Triple decker buggies take up half a double decker bus
Muddas and pickney-dem, colourful as Notting Hill carnival
Trundling down a grey grey street
Concrete clouds spitting tears of boredom
Upon rooftops and trains
Updated to look and work exactly the same,
Veteran thugs fearing young gangs of one.
Big Brother and Big Daddy telescopically spying on
Every microscopic detail of our lives:
The alcoholic jingoism we threw up last weekend,
The turd we dropped on an unknown neighbour’s doorstep
And blamed on the dog,
The squatters we made homeless
While fretting we’re only one missed rent away from joining them,
The policewoman we didn’t really mind getting arrested by,
The places of worship we grasshoppered to and fro from
Because the devotees’ attitudes gave sin a good name,
The number of letters our votes had to be changed by
‘Til they spelt T-O-R-I-E-S.
Next year is more promising
But will it deliver?
© One Tawny Stranger, June 2015