A Council Estate Insurgent Speaks Up

The youth of yesteryear did not garb themselves
with face scarfs and hoodies…
for there was no 1984 Surveillance
upon every pathway and piece of common ground
outside of your front door.
They’ve given Jimmy Knuckles another ASBO
for defending himself,
one of the ‘Conditions’ is
that he stays away from Wellington Avenue…
trouble is, it’s the only road on and off the Estate,
(They Dearly Love A Laugh In Courtroom No. 4)
he now has to climb hedgerows
and tramp through wet fields to get home.
From the Poll Tax to the Bedroom Tax,
I’ve watched your scheming poverty-punching…
rob and persecute the poor, oppressed, depressed,
and sunny-side-declined…
and you didn’t even have the decency
to mask that cruel mug of yours whilst doing it!
I stood in disbelief when they started pointing
their accusing fingers in the direction of Food Banks.
I saw a man, balancing a toddler upon his shoulder,
approach a Baker in Sainsbury’s
who was busy throwing 20 or 30 bread rolls
into a big plastic rubbish bin,
“Hey, can we have those, please mate,
so my Son can feed the garden birds, he loves ‘em?”
The Jobsworth never even glanced his way
“No, if you were to contract food poisoning
the entire Chain would be liable, they’re going landfill”
Question Time, gives me an headache an all,
but Ant & Dec’s cheesiness
is winning awards by the handful on the other side.
After three suicides by SKINNY teenage girls
who lived within this mile and a half radius,
cyber-bullied for being FAT
by cowardly, mean-spirited, middle-aged men…
I saw a woman in her late 60’s
bend down in the middle of the street and paint
‘ENOUGH IS ENOUGH’
in big, bold, Council magnolia ‘Fuck Off’ letters.

This article was posted on Sunday, March 17th, 2019 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.