Uniform

I’m from a time
When green land was punctured
By grey men, fertile
Features homogenous
Blades of sweet screaming
Little land of golden bricks
Shook under the weight
Of demolition dating.
Concrete jungles swung
Through tired old tin roof shacks
Replaced by luxury
Fa├žades, sat high above
The natural eye line
They flaunted their wealth
From the top floor
Cash would have landed
Like bombs, if any had
Trickled down.
We could customise ourselves
In ways future thinkers
Could never have foreseen
But we accepted our uniform
The grey replaced the green

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Uniform

Disinfect

Disinfect! Disinfect!
Can you spray that
Can you spray that spray can?
Hygiene makes a better place man

It’s all in the detailed dettol agreement
See a stain and conceal it
Soak with expenses and leave wistfully
The city cannot sleep through the sequence

Disinfect! Disinfect!
Can you spray that
Can you spray that spray can?
Hygiene makes a better place man

See a street sleeper? Wake him up
This area’s for walkers, no crusts
Of old coins or stains of old clothes
We facilitate cleansing throughout this zone

Disinfect! Disinfect!
Can you spray that
Can you spray that spray can?
Hygiene makes a better place man

There’s no need for you to grieve
We manage the placement of tasteful wreaths
No body will ever be seen
Not while we prowl the streets with our team

Disinfect! Disinfect!
Can you spray that
Can you spray that spray can?
Hygiene makes a better place man

Disinfect

Change

I don’t want to change the world
With emotionless language
Over the structural defects
Of passive diplomatics
Bridges not yet burnt
Hailed by the press
A conclusive infomercial
Constitutional success
I might like this nightmare
Knowing which side to support
The perfect effigy to burn
Seasoned crop ready to spoil
A land there to repossess
With capital to acquire
Each city weighs a fortune
Till we redistribute the fire
Its bright lights lead the carnival
Marching victoriously to our square
A little light refreshment
From an artisan priced fair
Fight breaks out on the front line
Brave soldiers jab their paws
Into fascists and policemen
Freedom fighting against the law
The guardians of right
The enemies of wrong
Heavy handed sentence
For singing a protest song

Change

Sweep

Broken shards crack
On each misstep
No light to guide me
Down this treacherous path
But I always walk alone
Insist, in fact
If I see a glance, a pass
A nod of the head
No word slips
From a wicked tongue
No grasp for archaic ideals
Of what a partner ought to be
Each figure I glide by
Does me no harm, escape
Not at the forefront of my mind
An animal in heat doesn’t leap
To attack from behind
Not on my body. Never.
I blend with the background
Pale and boyish, unthreatened
And unthreatening
Not for sale
In some sham ritual
Not sexualised in gutter culture
A carpet sweeper
Offers me a brush
Pushes the thick dust
Back underneath the rug

Sweep

Ascertain Class

Glancing back
Avoiding eye contact
I don’t like to be seen
Making a scene
Imagining who I am
Pretending it’s equal
In every opportunity
I’m afforded the luxury
Of my home country
It doesn’t startle me
But when I look
At my friends, I see
A certain class
Hues that never stray
Into complex colours
I’d defend every man or woman
As if they were my family
But I don’t glance their way
To hear their story
I speak about them
The way a teacher
Patronises a child
Only seeing the world
From my point of view

Ascertain Class

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