#birmingham
The bin-men and bin-women
of Birmingham
are on strike.
Black bin bags barricade the streets,
decaying vegetables
rotting meat
and putrid fish
perfume the pavements:
an odour brewed
in the vat
of spending cuts.
In the park
families picnic
between discarded
takeaway boxes:
their children chase
windblown paper towels
round an assault course
of half-empty cola bottles.
Rats big as cats
prowl the roads
like tigers
and eat car wires
bringing the city to
a stinking, gridlocked stop.
Jun 5, 2025
Jun 5, 2025 at 12:53 PM UTC
Have you heard
The news
So blue it’s black
So sad its not even tragic
These stories
Theses tales
From Virginia
From a Birmingham jail
This is America
This is right now
This is how it always has been
We just refused to listen
Just another victim
To a broken system
Sure it feels better to be numb
But it doesn't feel good
We all get tired from staying woke
but how can you sleep
With death at your backdoor
Holding a badge and a gun
No warrant
Warrants this kind of response
Where is the revolution
If its not being televised
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 9:09 PM UTC
Birmingham I am your first born Ex husband
Birmingham I am 3rd avenue north
Birmingham I am the hands of Vulcan
Birmingham I am an abandoned race course
Birmingham I am your Bob Dylan
Basquiat and Bukowski
Birmingham I am nothing
Birmingham I am blue
Birmingham I’m yours if you let me
Birmingham I am you
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 7:32 PM UTC
It was march
At the farmers market
Still kinda cold outside
There were people selling their odds and ends
And vendors selling fruit inside
At the back of the lot
Set an old taco truck
That sold tacos for a dollar a pop
I had 3 and a glass bottle coke
And wondered if I should buy
strawberries or not
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 5:22 PM UTC
The Native American man
Is combing his hair outside Primark
With his eagle feathers and his pipes and drums
Waiting in a cardboard box
Waiting
For the concrete to disintegrate
Greggs and Marks and Spencers crumble
To the beat of the drums
Waiting
For green to creep across the face of Waterstones
And bilberry bloom at the bus stop
And a moss carpet pad the safety barriers with velvet
Waiting
For the beat of the drums
For those feathers to soar over forest
And the silk of his hair fly free in the wind
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 11:59 AM UTC