I miss your old arcane hush
Ere the break of dawn
Wrapped in chill.
Your roads no longer
Lure the old for a stroll.
It's a myth,
Your peace and perfumes of petals
Your ftagrant champak
Blows its odour no more -
Orchards, parks and cosy groves
Breathe not their robust health of leafy green
With none to avenge
Their floral rights violation
Your all pervasive
Diesel zone,
With its wheelers' sway
Wrings lungs of toxic breath
Spawning constant early biers
Still undaunted
Sick hurry all hassles
On macadam dares
In blood stained end in pain
Garbage-grown
Your civic heart
Lies
In a littered shambles.
The honest blood
Of your once urban Arcadia
Courses no more
In your veins
Divers perils of crime
In menacing diffusion
Have injected
A panic beat to your tenor,
And the voluptuaries
A sleazy taint
To your self.
Will back your stolen ethos
Ere you are smothered
By
The louring trends lascivious.