66 Wardour Street, W1F 0TA

February 15, 2011

Freedom’s open till 3 am.
Then freedom closes.

Freedom opens again, at four or five the next day.
Hours of freedom,
as long as you can afford the drinks at
nine pounds a pop.
The laughter of the free is pearly,
their movement your movement while their longing fills you until you’re bursting with freedom, longing to burn the bridges or fuck in a toilet stall,
to the beat of a girl who kissed a girl

Freedom’s open till 3 am;
then freedom closes
You feel the oppression when
there is no freedom to be had,
and you catch a quick cab for a quick rub and a quick death and a quick goodbye,
coming home to an expired milk carton and
laundry and
email and
Life
that
does
not
stop.

And you long for freedom to open, even if it will close at 3 am

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13 Responses to “66 Wardour Street, W1F 0TA”

  1. Claudia said

    love the expired milk carton…ours never do…too many milk drinkers in the house…smiles
    love also how you capture the painful longing for freedom and if it’s only until 3 a.m..

  2. poemblaze said

    Vivid! I could see it all!

  3. Chris G. said

    The Modern Life. Gave me shudders. Feel the rush, the sense of closing in, racing here and there and always “doing”…freedom, is even that an illusion? Surely it must be, if it closes, for real freedom does not close, it goes on and on…

    Life. It does not stop. It races on. And it drags us along for the ride. Vivid barrage of images, set me spinning.

  4. wow…the death there at the end…and the expired milk carton…and tomorrow we’ll get back up again and do it all over…i feel it….

  5. very well said…the many faces of day to day living…and the clock keeps ticking…Bravo!!…bkm

  6. dustus said

    Reads existential to me—accepting responsibility for that being all there really is to living—fleeting windows of fun amid repetitive, overwhelming boredom and monotony. Reminds specifically of Camus—with the option being more absurd to end it. Still, the speaker seems to be banging his head against the wall near the end, crashing before the final point which accepts freedom. Well done

  7. wkkortas said

    Ah, the “quick death”; such a classic allusion in a modern poem, and one that brought a smile and a chuckle. I generally abhor one-word lines, as they are usually simply matters of artifice without purpose, but here they are re-inforcement of the modern runaway “Life/that/does/not/stop”. There is a great deal of wry humor here, which helps to make the piece more life-like and accesible; this is no academic set-piece. It is, however, serious writing.

  8. Forpuck said

    Thanks everyone for your kind words on this. If any of you come to London, I’m more than happy to take you to Freedom, which is in Soho, for drinks.

  9. Valerie said

    Nice little allegory. Last line is a keeper.

  10. Gay said

    A serious look at urban life, Anton. It captures time as it flows through the alcohol into the haze and stops at spoiled milk. Abstract and concrete at once.
    Excellent. Gay

  11. Great lead-up, love the end-line.

  12. Intense. Great theme and lovely imagery. 🙂

  13. Shashi said

    Powerful and evocative.. I liked your line…
    ‘coming home to an expired milk carton and…’ very interesting…

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    http://shadowdancingwithmind.blogspot.com/2011/02/whispers-night-along-sea.html
    Twitter @VerseEveryDay

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