My Poetry: Boundary Road, 11:15am

*please be aware it has an astrixed swear word*

 

These are the people,
For whom the plastic spoon
Was their birth right,
Menial work their inheritance.
These are the people
Who live hand to mouth,
Benefit cheque shopping days
In pound shops and discount stores,
For whom whole weekends are wasted
F**king and drinking
And reproducing,
Waiting for it all to manifest
In some medical emergency
Robbing them of breath
Their only god given right.

 

These are the people,
Who clean toilets, tend tills
Stack boxes in warehouses
Serve bad beer
In bad pubs to afternoon boozers
With 40 a day coughs
Yellow fingers and B&H perfume,
Who dream of lottery wins
So they can buy the things
They think Beyonce does,
Watch news for celebrity gossip
So they can bitch on a c-lister
One reality show above them
On a ladder leant against
Bourgeoise wall where
Wit and will will not overcome.

 

These are the people,
And I recognise them,
But no longer know them.

These are the people
For whom subservience,
Hegemony, poverty and deference
Are the price they pay
To Eton’s old boy mafia.
These are the silent majority,
Who laugh and swear and gossip
About TV shows
Cus any dream will do
When reality is a foe.