I got to the River shore of the town
Organized groups of performers
Dressed in black costumes
Imitating crows
They danced and sang near the wharves
Where the merchants had come off from
The piers and wooden platforms now seemed like stages
Street lamps the same shape and color as the actors
Redundant in the day well lit
Most of the actors were young
Putting their bodies into strange shapes
Calling the out of town tourists to watch
Was I one of these absent minded tourists?
Confused and bemused I looked out
As these little groups of people
Acted out scenarios from their town's distant past
It became expected and lost its mystery until
I spotted a man lying on a park bench
Out of his mind on the poppy juice
Smoking the strange sap without a care in the world
Watching this young man pretend to be a crow
Playing out his struggle to fame infront of this opium addled wretch
Expressing how he'd never made it despite his many skills
The situation unfolded as a drama in the young actor's head
The smack fiend saw the whole thing as a comedy
Life is about failure the smack fiend bellowed laughing
-You are too young to know it through
Tell me your life story in twenty years
Or join me in the golden haze of my oblivion!
I thought to yell out to the constable
But the land was rife with lawlessness
The people focused more on appearances and purchasing
Than building something solid for their future
Jules Raven crossed the River Thames .
He arrived in the limehouse.
His writing book under his arm.
A look of amazement across his face.
He pulled quill and described what he saw.
Below the bridge there was bustle.
Organized groups of performers.
Dressed in black costumes.
Imitating crows dancing and declaring elegant pleonasms.
He caught them like bubbles and jotted them down.
They danced and sang near the wharves,
where the merchants had come off from.
The piers and wooden platforms now seemed like stages.
Street lamps the same shape and color as the actors.
Redundant in the day well lit.
Most of the actors were young.
They moved with in supernatural harmony.
Putting their bodies into strange shapes.
Calling out of town tourists to watch.
Was Jules one of these absent minded tourists?
The quill dried so he put it away.
Confused and bemused Jules looked out.
As these little groups of people.
Acted out scenarios from their town's distant past.
It became expected and lost its mystery until...
A voice sprang rather abruptly,
From a man I spotted lying on a park bench.
Out of his mind on the poppy juice.
Smoking the strange sap without a care in the world.
Watching this young man pretend to be a crow.
The younger man struggled to perform infront of this opium addled wretch.
Expressing his failure in local theaters despite his many skills.
The situation unfolded as a super drama
The young man's accusing tone and movement,
directed at the fiend who saw the whole thing as a comedy.
Life is about failure the opium dreamer bellowed laughing.
-You are too naive to know it, but it will come to you as sure as smoke to me!
Come back and tell me your perfect life story in twenty years,
Or join me in the golden haze of my oblivion!-
The young man dressed as crow, blended back into the murder ashamed.
Jules thought to yell out to nearby constable
Informing him of the man smoking opium in broad daylight.
But the land was rife with lawlessness and chaos.
People obsessed with getting to the next meal.
Or being launched into some far off colony to start again.
Those years of the 1830s would bring many strange events to the Limehouse.
Some kind of portal opened that day near the docks.
Blurring the lines between the mundane predictable reality
and the dreamlike mind of the opium smoker.
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