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Cinnam Muscat Aug 2011
Barefooted teenager
Sliding D&G; watches
Into a bag filled with
Addidas shoes.

It's bonfire night in the cities
Of England. Come out, children,
To the heart of the city and
Bleed it dry.

Betray your hunger,
The greed that consumes you
And the indifference bred into
Your marrow.

Bred by despair and shiny
Baubles in window displays
And worn by all those
Stars in those glossy mags.

It's a consumer's world; it's about
Instant gratification, not hard work -
Even if work could be found.
But why work if you can steal?

Bonfire night. Like when we burn that
Guy. Fawkes? He tried to destroy Parliament
But teenage angst and thugs could do in a few nights
What his barrels of gunpowder couldn't.

Alcohol and **** to last a
Short lifetime. Shopkeepers in the way
Should know better; You can't fight
Irrationality. It has no conscience.

******, loot, burn like in those
Movies about war, Grand Theft Auto,
And a million other games. Just keep
Moving so you never have to actually think.

But just in case, let's blame someone else:
Let's blame race, the Met, politicians,
The schools, the economy, parents -  
Society.

Burn, London. Burn, Birmingham,
Burn, Manchester, Burn Liverpool.
Burn, Gloucester. Burn, burn, burn,
But let tomorrow be just another day.

Bonfire night. Every night.
Till they put out the fires,
Tend the wounded and
Bury the dead.
betterdays Mar 2014
the walker, bends,
her lycra-clad hips,
to check her addidas laces.

she has walked,
many, many miles
in this life.
all, in the pursuit,
of the, body beautiful.

and now, has the
musculsture,
of an aged chicken.
all string and rope,
under sagging skin.

she breathes deeply,
sips, from a metalic bottle
and begins,
the downward journey,
into the unenviable,
inevitablity of ageing.

she smiles and
gives me a cheery wave,
as she passes on by.
etude#1
a start to the  observational study
poetry series

— The End —