Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Britain...A Country in Recession

FB Mob

Now they no longer
Run, when you stamp your foot, they
Puff out their chests, I'd call it a strut!!!
Smashing and looting, they no longer take flight
Uniform riot, scarf covered face and hooded head
Hoards of obese pigeons, shamefully scrounging
Can't afford nuffink, posing for pics
With their swag, the sorry state
Of the FB mob

Almost Multi-Coloured Boy

I saw an almost multi-coloured boy

The only colour about him true
Were sparkling eyes of deepest blue
With a nose and mouth of almost red
From sniffing glue to numb his head
Skin almost green, hair almost white
From malnutrition and sleepless nights
More problems than most, with bruises to
Beaten almost black and almost blue
Feeling of shame, I'm taken aback
He revealed my own heart to be black
For upon seeing him I must say

I just wished he'd go away.


I miss
The annoying ping.
Elastic has stretched,
Gone are
The stomping days.

They clip
Onto my trousers.
They could,
Make me look,
Like a scruffy skinhead,

Or a smart Grandad.
They were
I don't feel Special anymore

They got
At fancy dress.
The worry
Is turning me grey.

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