why do we care
who follows us
narcissistic popularity
with faceless friends
who we have no hope
of ever catching up with
they’re not coming round
for tea and cake
you’re not cooking dinner
opening the wine
laying the table just right
none of them really give a ****
because like you
they want your likes
like for like
liking you living your best life
in the two second spotlight
of their stream
these are new friends
avatars on a screen
edited to oblivion
so you can barely see
where the cracks begin
we live in the moment
and report every movement
hoping someone will love us
so we can lead them on

the blind is broken
on the back door
where I try the handle
maybe one two three four
times before bed
my foot treads
wear a furrow
into carpet pile
patrolling by the mile
a circuit I navigate
from door to window
and back again
checking checking
my doorbell's camera eye
spies on the street outside
intruder alerts on my phone
warn of incoming......
something
all so I can complete
a nights sleep
with one ear open
tossing turning
I have covered all eventualities
except the Bogeyman
in my head
under the bed

****** dropped bombs on him
It was nothing personal
There was just a war on
He came under the heading of enemy
Blew the ****** front door in
His mum got shot at by a Messerschmitt
In the middle of the street
So he had to do the shopping after
Its dangerous out there send the kid

Served his country in the Royal Fusiliers
Made it to sergeant teaching squaddies
How to read and do their sums
Posted to Germany as army of occupation
Did his bit as the saying goes
Then back on civvy street worked in the city
Steam train took him every day
From the market town where I was born
To smoke and smog and daily grind

Now I am teaching him the iPhone 6
At eighty seven he’s doing great
From a socially acceptable distance
Of course so we can keep in touch
Face to face and he won’t miss us
Now by himself rattling around
The big old house where I grew up
How times have changed
Still he should be used to queuing up

where Hollywood's celluloid dream
is reflected off silver screen
into the consciousness
of audience's expectations
sitting
in amphitheatre auditoriums
amid
whispered conversations
plot revelations
spoiler alert
sweet packet crinkle
coke slurp
popcorn rustle
where held hands
make promises breached
bases reached
love declared
for a fumble on a back seat
childhoods spent
getting out from under
grownups feet
the good guys won
the bad guys wore black
where a thousand shots fired
nobody died
in the end
aching legs brought to life
to leave with
a head full of stories
unrelated to real life

prostitutes
who walk the streets
for the relief of men
unhappy at home
check out girls
at the till of empty promises
waiting to be discovered
and whisked away
young ones in yoga pants
jogging for a better body
and a better future
counting the steps
to where they could’ve
been today
the ones pushing prams
who are too late to corrupt
but you’d still give it a go
the tempting schoolgirls
in their uniformed uniformity
who’s radiant faces separate them
from their peers
they are all someone’s daughter
somebody’s pride and joy
they are all loved by fathers
who would lay down their lives
for them
who have made sacrifices
for them
and would again
precious
missed
special
remember this
as you glance a lustful eye
in their direction