A Waste

Oh dear, look over there

It’s very clear, even from here

Plump young mum, another on the way

Buggy-shoving through a brand-new day

 

Can’t you tell, even at a glance

Little Errol stands littler chance

Tied securely in his prison pram

Tired, exhausted, silent as a lamb

 

His cream cake crumbles on Greggs shop floor

Mam chats and smokes outside the door

Sister Cheryl runs wildly about

Ignoring Mam’s frantic shout

 

Non-working class; must it be like this?

Mired in a morass; existence no bliss

Minx Cheryl and timorous young Errol Smith

One in Mam’s tummy will be the fifth

 

Social workers don’t know what to do

Politicians haven’t even a clue

Proudly espousing ‘each child counts’

We’re investing money, look at the amounts!

 

But cash alone is not the solution

What we need is a revolution

Where families learn of a better way

To break the cycle of social decay

 

Where then the collective conscience?

For lives lived, but of no consequence

A tragic, doomed, wasted group

Class-locked in an endless repeating  loop

Night Watchman

Entrances all locked and fast

Bolts checked around the back

Windows secured to the last

Holding, at bay, attack

 

Family safely stowed abed

Enjoying well-earned sleep

Though heavy hangs the weary head

The watch still his to keep

 

Guttering lamp gives meagre light

Cold gnaws and gathers round

Corner shadows hold close the night

Time passing without a sound

 

A few more rounds; he might then rest

Wolf kept safely from the door

Dawn’s rays reveal its sad bequest

His burden he’ll carry no more