Every now and then I feel like I live here. Right under the unleaded.

So the other day I felt like I was being bombarded by ignorance (living, as I am at the moment, in a small provincial town in the South West of England) and I had to get out my frustrations with people and their horrible comments in the usual way I do - in a stream of consciousness-style poem.

So this is a kind of pro-gay, pro-woman, pro-black, pro-white, pro-man, pro-straight, pro-vegetarian, pro-meat-eater, pro-whatever-the-hell-you-are-and-fuck-the-rest-of-you kind of liberty, equality cry. Because taking your anger and using it against someone is never as good as using it to help them understand instead. And, at one point or another, we will all take it in turns to be that boy (or, that girl!).


It doesn't matter if it's dry
Or wet
The towels left on the floor
I don't care if the dinner table isn't set
Or you've recently re-washed the kitchen floor
Poor or rich
In the end it doesn't matter either
A poor man in a palace isn't richer
Than the miser
Stop that, back talk chat
That other bullshit in the bedroom
What do you do anyway?
Sort of rub up against each other
Then smile in a female kind of way
Groan into the darkness
Pant, put on your pants
And walk away
The gays don't stay in long relationships
Especially not in the Country
Just like women
And their second class crap
Don't even get me started on the blacks
Slap and tickle
Fight for rights
Not if it's past dinner time
Or might look, you know, peculiar
Keep that boy out of sight
And tightly in the tight knit, sick and under human radar
slips another little town
Where it's OK to look at love and loyalty
And frown
Or better still, make some sad joke
Some lost love hope
That coaxed its way up through the ice
The breadcrumbs that you can't spare for mice
Because the money isn't coming in
You're trapped here in the cooking tin
The boiling point not far away
A sizzle and a snap back curve
Shut up you liar
It isn't somewhere else
That you deserve

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