The Land of Fog and The City of Dreams

A Poem by Mikhail Kustov

Mikhail Kustov’s collection The Land of Fog and The City of Dreams describes his journey around London and Oxford. His use of personification and natural imagery captivates the reader into understandi

The Flow of Before

The City of Fog is a place that never sleeps

We have the River Thames flowing through

A gateway, a link to the land of before, the primal river where life began

It powers through the day, with the inhabitants working like ants

Day in and day out, never stopping,

The electricity being channeled, pushing us

When we sleep, it awakens the machines to work in our place.

The movement of the capital is like a river,

It can never be stopped, flowing and interchanging, adapting to every situation

The first flow is the centre of it all

The city growing around it and twenty one rivers connecting to it,

Becoming the branches of the Thames.

The city that never slept, the people that never stopped

But nothing is ever forever

The machines may rise and take over

Wonderland

This man was not born here, but had come from another

The city nurtured him with literature and nature,

He was a child of the words, the rhythms and the tones

A mother no more, the wanderer found solace within the halls

Was he not learning enough, but he did learn all, and although normal eyes saw

laziness, the looking glass saw wunderkind.

The language of the world and stars becometh a second tongue

But his first words, printed upon the canvas of fallen oak

Those words we read now, become intertwined in the fantasy

Questioning his style, but armoured by his visualization and gift

We shall always hold him in our hearts, showing us the true sight of the

Jabberwocky.

Dreams

The Spires appeared lonely, looking at the clouds all day long

Do they dream when they sleep, and what do they dream

Do they lift their bases off the ground, jump high and catch the sky

Do they saunter through the streets and enjoy the art

Do they dive into the Isis and relax with the current

They can dream of what they want, they are within a city of culture.

Dreams can form anywhere, within these streets and turns, everything is hidden

But anything is possible, nothing is ever truly hidden from the eye.

Have you?

Have you ever walked through the streets of London?

Have you ever walked down a path, unaware of what you might find?

And you find what you do not expect, a hidden alley, a dazzling new shop

Have you ever walked next to the rivers of London?

Have you ever sailed across the calming waves, not knowing what you will feel?

And you feel, smell and sense, the bliss and stillness

Have you ever walked up the steps of the Towers of London?

Have you ever climbed and viewed the City of Fog?

Standing atop of the world, your fingers out reached, the clouds within grasp

Have you ever truly felt London?

Tree of Life

Flora fascinates fauna feverishly

Outcasting organisms, outliving ourselves

Reading redwood, representing reproduction

Evergreen eclipse electrifying environment

Stunning scenic, sheltering serenity

Tainting the terrain, typical toxic tertian

Centuries

Eleven Lines connecting the corners of London

All crossing each other, lay lined with the life of the city

The strings of fate connecting the land with the people

Two millennia ago, it was given birth, and named Londinium

Romans built it from the ground and filled it with energy

Saxons came thereafter and held it for power, but it escaped their grasp

They came from the sea, through the rivers and surrounded the fortress

They hassled and broke the spirits of many men, the warriors of the sea had won

A new dawn, a new age, peace was found, a Great King, but Greed was born

The first millennia foresaw a cycle of death and life, war and peace, order and discord

Now the second millennia has come to fruition, will the cycle change or broken?

Brothers

Jack and Jacques
One’s a killer, one’s a doctor
Walking among the poor, they came upon five
Five alive and five deceased
Ripped apart and then sewn together

The first was ripped, down a dark alley
Jacques found the pieces that Jack had broken
The paper brought life of Bucks Row
for Polly did not talk no more, no less

At the break of morn, Jacques and Chapman spoke
On Hanbury street, the second of his kills
Jack slashed her throat, her life flashed
Yet the killer had more work to do

The end of September was a night to remember,
For Jack and Jacques were working twice as much
Slashes and Mutilations filled the city
The first was Miss Stride but interrupted he was
And then Miss Catherine, found hacked and shredded

Jack’s final thrill was his favorite kill
He and Mary Kelly made history, not papers
By the candle light he sinned and skinned her skin
Jack vanished into the literary mysteries
And Jacques…

Endless

Welcome, welcome to the city of endless dreams

Where one enters and only leaves when the vigil of the city decrees

Let me guide you through the wavering boulevards

Do try not to get lost, if you stray from the path

You will not end up in wonderland, but lose sight in nothingness

The buildings stand strong, keep to the walls

They prevail against all who attack

Burning Infernos are doused

Raging waves are blocked

The land shakes, but the city quells

The winds blow through, but vanish into nothing