When the games begin
and the screams come and go
scaled silences and a thousand
- I said so's
In the lounge, the chess board sits
on the table
counters & men are strewn
around the floor;
newspapers pretend to be read
- they hate the daily grind
the news of today, tomorrow
and lost little girls,
and crying women and hideous
crimes
Crimes of willingness to commit
to expand, deflate and expire
beyond the date of rehab
beyond detox;
the screams can be heard up Oldham Rd
and past Piccadilly,
the phone boxes are locked & loaded
to fizz up the arm and irritate ears
and the fear of man
passing by
and the crying women,
vagabonds, vagrants
& cunts, that sit on the curbs
Waiting and the willing or will nots
wilt like the dead lettuce & slugs
by the Tib Street barra-boys
empty, empty carts
Adding your comment:
for the nurse...
ing... as that is a real great compliment about this piece and where it stems from.. it is quite a dark area and grey and dulled by life and times
