Blueprint
I let them go; a handful
of helium spheres,
bumping and squeaking
their nuisance value tosh
I let them fly unheeded
those panicked pheasants and barking deer
I left those old acquaintances
and got a room alone
Bedsit stairs softly stank of biscuit
and the fly-flown bulb is blown
Bedsit music rumbles a ten-ton Hoover
serenading the gas-leak kitchen of the night
Making stoned cuppas
with that messy coffee
stolen sugar bag
and crusted milk from the muttering fridge...
(sniffs) Take the instant black
with biscuits pre-dunked
in the single-glazed dank
of condensation on love-heart windows
Neighbour chat stoked on TV soap,
’n’ disco (but she’s sweet)
bicycle in the hall obstructs
the taupe phone that rings
for an empty corridor
The stairs run with thumping doors
and names ending in ‘phone’
the receiver spins and dangles…
a metaphor for tennants’ lives
A feral cheese has followed
a dressing gown that yawns
and takes the call
Front door broken - repaired
broken - repaired
kicked in - fixed
a Bostik matchstick;
screwed ’n’ glued
slammed, not closed,
with a violent shaking letterbox
Stuck in the suicide zone
the fragmented souls of perpetual unemployment
are statistics of starvation
quenched by drugs and alcohol
dreaming up a new day, dream up a better day
dream on forever if you fail to wake up
Like the girl who laughed
as I lit her exploding gas-fire
she’s taken herself out
Beautiful and bright
even the creep
who leaves bogeys on the handrail
worshipped her
Among the down and out:
a pain shared is a rock cemented
occasional girls stay the night
and a drummer says he’ll join the band
Meanwhile, gliding undetected
like a sheep-dog,
with foil-wrapped bricks for furniture
road-works lamp
and charity shop clothes,
my blueprint Gestetnered on,
Franked by the university of life