Tower blocks that stab the skies
Grimy streets where litter lies
In doorways nest the dispossessed
Liquor fuelled before they rest.
A women's refuge needs a guard
To keep out men who think they're hard
At least the children will be fed
And have the comfort of a bed.
Marauding youths patrol the streets
Sending texts and making tweets
Using language we don't know
To help their distance from us grow.
They see no future in their lives
Hence the needles, and the knives
And all we do is remonstrate
Which feeds their anger and their hate.
And yet, about a mile away
Is where the politicians play
Armani suits and Gucci shoes
Willing whores from which to choose.
I doubt they even
Feign to see
This broken world
Their legacy.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
