Carving

Benches are stoic ever-presents
Tree surgeons come and go
Children’s hoppy drinks, grown
Men watch their dogs piss
Blow a smoke ring skyward
Listen to the distant doppler shift
The whoosh of speeding traffic
These lost evenings, spent drunk
On each other’s company
Giddy laughter, friendship as
Feeble as the daisies heads
Picked off one by one
Keen stencilers carve our names
With keys, a preservation of
The lack of responsibility
To anyone but ourselves

Carving

Amateur

It’s hard to tell once on
The train to Birmingham
Whether it changed anything
Seeing a multiracial society
Kids running across bustling streets
The sights and smells differ
From quiet, sterilised streets
Amateur gardeners knead out
The weeds around a small plot
Of land. I’m bored just watching
The intricate backbreaking toil
I could remove the signs from
School gates, take what disruption
I can get my hands upon
Lice crawling on bare skin
Escape, not yet an option

Amateur

Underpass

Crystals reflect off the flickering lights
Fat fingers roll over another paper
Another cold, dark winter evening
Nothing doing for teenagers
Except the sickly sweet smoke
Rising from below the road
Underpass√© graffiti. “I woz ‘ere”
Small town tagging, not quite
The wit to make it onto talent shows
But these aren’t our words
We shield flames
With our cupped hands
Gather outside a solitary shop
Joke about sticking the place up
Boisterously demonstrate
Lacking amenities to pass time
Adults skulk past, step into their cars
We glimpse at our older selves
Give them a two fingered salute
As a parting gift

Underpass

PR

Keep your head on
Poster boy for hedonism
Heading onto bigger boards
Balaclava models
Seduce me with wide eyes
Holding fruit, virtue
Signalling for a brand
To distance itself
So only non-believers
Get taken out when the
Blast shakes the pavement
He was wearing those jeans
It’s so awful. That shirt
Will be ripped to shreds
Heads rolling. PR disaster

PR

Comb

A man in a shell suit
Bags heavier than usual
Green bin lid doesn’t shut
An arm stretches out
To squash down the mass
Compact compost in neat
Squares of satisfaction
Chewy combs; dessert
Or breakfast snacks
Occupy your thoughts
Processing power not
Required to choose
A diet, pump in the fat
By the camera load
Watch it ooze across
The high street, but
Nobody watches it
Stick to the concrete

Comb