Power

Backseat driving on narrow lanes
Hedges pruned to keep the tunnel
Vision focussed on the greyish gravel
Headlights on. Rabbit caught
By hungry predator, a late night snack
Can’t make out the culprit
Through the dirty windows
I press my foot down, as if I control
The brakes. Fearing we may
Lose control on a corner
Holding onto the front seat
Headrest, pretending not
To be frightened by a man
With all the power
In his right boot

Power

Anywhere

Feel free to dismiss
The modern approach
I take to community space
Neighbourhoods weep
At my disinterest in
Wasting afternoons. People
I’m not acquainted with
Sharing local stories
Old wives tales of
Grandparents that never
Set foot outside a
5 mile radius till 1995
And that was only
To visit the new hospital
To die.
Forgive me, but the
Constant I seek is
Greater than the home
Or area I reside in
I hoped we would see
Eye to eye, but I’m
Just as closed off
In changing my view

Anywhere

Weavers

Carbon monoxide
Infiltrates lungs long before
The over-cooked smell of
Flesh wafts across the borough
Air fresheners only masking
The inside of every two-storey house
With affordable fragrant air
Cooling down from the heat
Under high Victorian ceilings
Jasmine pleasantly bursts
To detoxify olfactory passages
Clothes circle round and round
Still trying to wash away the scent
But the tiny weavers stick
Agonising as they stitch
The dead into the cotton

Weavers

A Generalisation of Demographics

Tomorrow is just another step
On a platform. Train coffee
Weeps down chequered seats
Last centuries style
Catch a glimpse of a grey hair
Sprouting through despite
The cuts I’ve made each day
A book hangs loosely
From my other hand
I’m reading about demography
Trying to understand why punching
People who smile is assault
But siphoning off money is encouraged
I wash my hands again
In that dirty sink
Blood red, veins dark blue
Losing is a learning curve
Hanging vertically from a tall tree
Drying out till the resolve
To remain active withers
In the light breeze

A Generalisation of Demographics

Rigid

I’m supposed to write
About things I see
Frame them in a delicate verse
Both patient, and a butcher
With perspexecutive lenses
Yelling through glass cubicles
The click echo location commands
If not for yourself, then
For your community
The street spirit that died
When we locked our doors
Never quite straightening
The visual cues on the wall
Aware of many pictures
Competing for one role

Rigid

New Leaf

I snapped a twig
In a leafy park suburb
Gates closed in
I was circling for a
Way out of this
Repetition.
I tread carefully
But still hack at
The wooden
Fences among
Springs and babbling
Brooks chattering
Constituent parts
Flowing through
Indiscriminately.
They dried out
The other side
Charging for the
Right to poor water
Ownership is king
I don’t know
How to turn it into
A new leaf

New Leaf