If streets could speak and talk and tell,
Of all the feet that upon them fell,
Perhaps they’d tell of tents and purists
Replaced by birds, trainers and tourists,
Bemoaning that they cannot feel
A semblance of feelings real,
Where once there was an air of change,
A simple switch seems out of range.
The plastic bullets they swept away,
The handcuffed boys have done their stay,
The blood’s been washed from marbled tiles,
Replaced by fake asbestos smiles,
And all the while I look around,
Remember bodies on the mound
Remember splattered crunch of teeth,
Remember smell of cannabis leaf,
Remember hands that begged for water,
Mother cradling her daughter,
A group together now disbanded,
It seems post-truth has finally landed.
Cold cold, blue topped mornings,
not so blue.
When the crystals
When the nerves,
wired to the toes
Engines of all,
engines of many,
Fortunate we are,
for socks and shoes.
Fortunate we are
for skies that wrestle,
a crystal blue.
An hour is enough
time to dress.
Slug through the juggernaught sleep
still rampaging the bones.
Rich in promise,
of supplementary power.
Get to work,
Two sausage rolls
from the Co-op,
Down the power brown,
Smoke, smoke, smoke.
What am I doing to my body?
What are you doing, savage man?
When will you get out of bed and stand up?
Savage man, when will you get up?
You don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Currency is currently coming and going.
Currency is coming and going.
Is this why you wake up Savage man?
Hey, Savage man?
Can we ask you something?
Why not pack it all in?
You don’t have to wake up.
Savage man, will you get up?
We’re concerned about your performance.
Savage man, get up.
Currency must come and go.
If she has smiled at you,
she’s smiled at a lot,
Her day full of seeing
yes yes, special.
just like everyone else.
You’ll love her,
like you could
And the mutual bond
will set itself in stone
until the cracks do crack
and they crack,
just as they would
with anyone else.
drunk when i get on the bus and the driver is looking at me weird.
‘good morning, you alright?’
he smiles then, lucky me
upstairs, floor smells like dank
always a consistent feeling up here
everything tired, sleepless eyes
like my own, staring at myself in the reflection in the mirror
maybe today is gonna be my day
no need to sleep
bus driver still driving
led screen tells me i’m close
sterling corner, sterling evening
still stinks of dank up here
i’m a wreck a bastard scum
still stand up and shout out a request
‘yo, any of you lads got some dank?’
one more attempt
‘so no one got any dank?’
blank faces, i think i’m drunk
must be, floor looks like a swimming pool
can’t stand straight so i
hold onto the bar
supporting myself as a bird sings
soft melody in c major
top of the charts in mind
off the bus into the cold
breathe like i’m steady
wave to the bus driver and thank the lord
he waves back
down my road, i’m almost home
back inside my comfort zone
one more piss before i enter
using up the time i have alone
breakfast time calling
something along the lines of bacon and eggs
go for a shit in the toilet
forget to wipe
upstairs friend sleeping downstairs
wide open mouth, a useless cavity
talk is cheap that’s why i’m writing