The river is a protest

The river is a protest

Without placards

A procession

Sedate and without rancour

The whole of it snaking

Through the city

Coiling through the townhouses

The plush riverfronts

With the panoramic views.

Expensive

Houseboats moored at Chelsea

Wealthy aristos

Eating vegan patties

Wearing faux leather sandals

Reading books by Leary

Tripping out to Massive Attack

Believing the hype

Around first contact

Whilst accepting an invitation

To the proms

Tea with the King

Hushed whispers when discussing

His health

Tutting loudly whenever the noise

Of the Hoi polio

Is heard above the sound of traffic,

Police helicopters

Monitor the flow.

The Thames is a father

In need of a mother

London is a rising tide of anger

On the front line

Against complacency.

Self-awareness

Is a state of grace

Wasted on the young

Who use it as a rite of passage

There is a copyright on soapboxes.

So many youthful things

Swept away

On the promise of

A better future

Waving as they drown

In the deep end

Pulled under by

The weight of opposition

To compassion

Realignment

And change.

As the river continues to roll

Ever onward

To the sea.