Schemies waive the working world
And dance on poverty’s plight
Police put cameras in the lift cars
Sounds like a poem that I would write
Dawn raids drown in dub house disco
Eyes dilated from drugs and fright
Children playing in cool oblivion
Like everything’s alright
Rainwater runs down classroom windows
Streaks that bathe in the late sunlight
Young mums gather on sharp street corners
Tear away dogs that bite
Weather worn men with BetFred pens
Tense up as the racing pack takes flight
Laundromat ladies swimming in bedsheets
Washing everything white
Gun-metal beams announce the moon
To silhouette gangs just out of sight
Briskly building walls of shadow
From coconut shafts of light
Trailer park kids mark skills with skids
In the dreadnought deep of Saturday night
Catcalls ricochet through the subways
Shrill graffiti
Urban might
Everyone nods
They know my name
I’m shaping up safe and sound and tight
Few now quiz my fading accent
Nobody picks a fight
All these souls will line the pews
Of the precinct church that sleeps tonight
Nine hours hence we’ll sing low hymns
And ancient wisdoms cite
Market stalls will line the streets
With colours and smells of pure delight
Kids run slalom through the boxes
Everyone here’s polite
Media hacks will call our town
In a bid to hurt and disunite
It never works
It makes us stronger
Sounds like a poem that I should write
Questo mosaico di ambiaenti esterni è come ritrovare la felicità fra le parole. Complimenti per la sua vena da poeta anche se vorrebbe diventarlo e manifestarlo.
ReplyDeleteSe vuole visitare il mio forum:http://progressoworld.blogspot.it/2017/03/il-potere-della-comunicazione.html Grazie, saluti dall'Italia.