(20 minute poetry)



Another journey underground
below this city,
underneath the glitz and clamour
but
no glamour to be found when
you're travelling underground.

It's freezing cold
the tube train's old
almost as old as me

an announcement
or pronouncement,
Bethnal Green is closed!
I'm not surprised
it should have been closed years ago,
but this is due to staff shortage
a bit like in the
Wizard of Oz
because
because
there's millions unemployed.

London Underground is like a mill stone around my neck,
a windmill going round and round grinding the people down and down.

Into town and they never close my station
now I need to disembark
park my carcass down at work for eight more hours.

If the powers that be could only see this brew of discontent they'd have sent me a limousine.

Well
I can dream anyway.