A QUIET PLACE
The city’s quiet
And doesn’t make a sound
I go outside
And no one’s around
The once bustling high street
Is now a ghost-town
The boutiques of the past
Boarded up now
Remember the classics
Woolies
Wilkos
Dixons
Debenhams
Toys R Us
British Home Stores
Ran out of cash
Left to rot
Behind closed doors
In the middle of
Cozzy Livs
Where you get fined
For saying it how it is
The bookies still exist
They’ll take your money
Even if it’s your last
Couple of quid
Then there’s the others
Primarni
Poundland
Maccies and Greggs
Dirty carpets in Spoons
Home to the leftover dregs
The early risers
The pints and cigarettes
The glory days are over
Poverty, decay
And neglect
Are all that’s fucking left
Today
It looks depressed
Thatcher’s concrete gaffs
Overrun by fucking rats
The fucking cops
With fucking bats
The fucking lagers
Are fucking flat
The fucking flats
Are overpriced
They kicked out the poor
For gentrified twats
The red-bricked council house
Is now a rich-prick’s pad
Two grand a month
And not enough room
For a fucking bath
Can’t even go out
On Saturday night anymore
Just for a fucking scrap
I’ve had enough of all this
New-age crap
Snapchat filters
And never-ending ads
Just want a few pints
A couple of fags
And to see bossman
On my way home
For a filthy fucking kebab
DOOMSDAY DEVICE
Device
Scrolling
Screen
Underground
WiFi
Online
Last seen
Swiping
Typing
FaceTiming
Social
Apps
Anxiety
Notifications
Ghosted
Crisis
5G
Loading
Roaming
Signal
Lost
What’s up
What’s down
WhatsApp
Connection
Connecting
Content
Addicted
Feed
Endless
Doomscrolling
Emptiness
Algorithm
Is
Relentless
Fake
News
Bots
Deepfake
AI
Spies
Text back
Mate
Updates
Stories
Likes
Shares
DM
Sliding
Aubergine
Pears
Triggered
Trolls
Separation
Right
Left
Manipulation
Cookies
Cache
Crumble
Realisation
Screen time
6 and half hours
Fuck me
What a life
MILES AWAY
I wish I was miles away
Not tomorrow
Today
Somewhere warm
Stella in a frozen glass
Just chilling by a bay
Sweating my tits off
And tanning my arse
Another Stella
In a frozen glass
Blazing on a Cuban cigar
Living it large
Feeling in charge
Wearing an avocado
Cucumber and mud facemask
If only I could be miles away
No more emails
They drive me fucking insane
ASAP this
Prioritise that
No thanks, mate
I wanna be somewhere warm
With a yoga mat
Sorry, Diet Coke
And a cheeky double Jack
Take me somewhere far away
Somewhere without
Egg and chips
Pop and crisps
Chicken dippers
Roast dinners
Lukewarm tea
Soggy biscuits
And fucking fish fingers
I wish I was miles away
Even Scotland
Will do
Neeps, tatties and haggis
And a can of Irn Bru
I am watching my figure though
So I’ll have a battered mars bar too
And even though it’s full of Jackies
It’s miles better
Than this piss-stained zoo
Take me somewhere
Fucking miles and miles away
Away from all the fucking aches
And the pain
From the constant
Hate and disdain
The hatred
That is so culturally ingrained
Like the grey skies
And the fucking
Pissing
Down
Rain
I wish I was miles away
Just not in Benidorm
Or Spain
SAME
Everything’s the fucking same
The fucking scene’s
The fucking same
The fucking news
The fucking same
The fucking weather’s
The fucking same
They forecast sun
And it fucking rains
Nowt will ever fucking change
‘Cos everything’s the fucking same
The working day’s
The fucking same
A fucking job
You fucking hate
Tesco meal deal
On your break
It’s fucking cold
And fucking stale
You cannot wait
To get away
Your week in Zante’s
The fucking same
Two minute sex
And then the pain
When you get back home
It fucking rains
Nosey neighbours
Fucking complain
Cozzy Livs I fucking blame
Cos everything’s the fucking same
Political views
The fucking same
Waiting rooms
The fucking same
Train delays
The fucking same
I know
It’s a fucking shame
There’s no escape
From feeling drained
The fucking vibes
The fucking same
Even this poem’s
The fucking same
Maybe I’m the one to fucking blame
Cos everything’s the fucking same
WATCHING PAINT DRY
Sitting in a room
Watching paint dry
Emotionless black walls
The story of my life
Tools on the floor
Plasterer’s radio
And a rusty saw
Walls covered in white gloss
Memories gone
No more raunchy posters
Page 3 birds
And Kate Moss
Like watching paint dry
What a time to be alive
A dab-hand at DIY
Jack-of-all-trades
Just never get paid
A fag break
With a builder’s tea
Milk, two sugars
And me pal Dave
I’d rather be watching paint dry
Than waking up
And doing the same old shite
Resentment’s in overdrive
Give me a paintbrush
And I’ll be right
Oh what a lovely sight
Skirting boards
And doorframes
In an electric eggshell white
Bloody love watching paint dry
Staring at the wall
Watching time fly by
Don’t need the news
Or the right wing views
Not a care in the world
As I paint over
That fucking mould
CHIP PAPER
Today’s news
Tomorrow’s chip paper
The summer of our lives
‘Hey Jude’
They chanted
He was England’s saviour
POLITICS!
Right-wing views
And rioting
What on earth is this ‘new’ Labour
HORROR!
Some bloke in Australia
Had his dick
Eaten by an alligator
MUST READ!
Local plumber fried
Bleeding radiators
GOSSIP!
Z-Listers
Broke the rules
Cocaine, hookers and a waiter
Proper naughty behaviour
Love is for fools
Wanted ads for lonely daters
SCANDAL!
Married man caught
Fisting himself in front of strangers
Who still reads this shite
Do me a bloody favour
Fish, chips and mushy peas
Please love
Oh, and keep the change
See ya later
NORTHERN RAMBLINGS 