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Childhood (Remove filter)

Growing Up

A colouring book becomes Facebook.
A tweet isn’t the sound from a bird.
Mobile devices hold us hostage
to high definition
when ambitions are blurred.
Light up trainers become stilettos
that shush insecurities
and tightly crush toes
,flashing in the strobe lights
of newly found adventure,
that makes us drunk on
possibilities and hope.
But dazzled by choice,
dazed by possibility,
we be...

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adolesencechildhoodgrowing upparenthood

...but not so little boys...from my new collection MUMB

 

Shielded in a force field cacophony of Peter Griffin’s laughter and a baseline dirge

with LED’s set on level Epileptica

the giant slumbers; he does not open an eye.

Hidden amidst his landscape of tissues, Lynx and Lucozade;

this is where childhood comes to die.

 

There once was a hand held tightly to the shops,

there was once a cartoon hero and kite making,

then he was...

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Childhood

While we help the country of others,

We forgot our own sisters and Brothers.

Some turn to thugs,

While others turn to drugs.

On the corner is a woman,

With no other option or plan.

Working to feed her kids,

Sold to anyone who bids.

Everyday a young child travels with death,

15 year old overdose on meth,

17 year old shot dead,

8 year old abused in own bed.

This ...

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childhoodmodern lifepoliticalcold blooded murder

These Streets

I was born here, under Maggie's rule.
Living beneath her Spitting Image character
hanging from a telecom wire overhead.
The youth here knew hate before they knew love
and everybody hated the Iron Lady.
Everything here was grey; from the rows of well-worn
tenements and dirt-strewn streets to the sunken eyes
of every battered wife.
Violence was rife, accepted as normality.
A messed up reali...

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glasgoweightieshousing estatedrugsdomestic violencechildhood

When a child asks about the cruelty in the world.

Switch off the TV’s

Cover their ears

Wrap them in cotton wool

Drink all their tears

Drown them in fairy tales

Sing them sweet songs

Take them to places

The bad don’t belong

Bathe them in sunshine

Shower them with love

Serve them their childhood

Wearing kid gloves.

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childhoodchildrenpeacewarviolenceloveparenthood

The Making Of A Worker

The Making Of A Worker.

 

The lorry tips its rubble

On the road outside our house,

the privet hedge engulfed

in a primordial cloud of dust,

it drives away in chugging glee

having spilled its heavy load

and we stand and watch it go

as the carbon mountain settles.

 

The sergeant-major father

barks his orders at the troops

and our little hands clasp tight

the...

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capitalismchildhoodcoalcoal deliveryhard workNostalgiaparentsrewardwork

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