Central’s a mess

The capital of culture has not quite reached
Liverpool central railway station
So preach this evenings announcement
Ladies and gentlemen
May i present
The regurgitated pre moulded plastic seats
Of the seventies
Stuck to tubular walls
Underground in this station
Sit in your mould
And wait
Quiver like jelly
sliced on your hot-plate
observe the hopefully not
running late
yellow alphabet signs painfully grate
the senses
and you think that’s entertainment
no one is really watching them
we all somewhere else
dreaming
dreaming about  cleaning it up
Tired
Tired it looks all so seventies and tired
I hear they hired tarpaulin sheets to cover it
Like pretty pleats
The dressed up treats so culture officials
Cross eyes don’t meet the mess
They asked rodents to dress in the birthday best clothes
oh god im animal
this platform the zoo
And Were
Are supposed to be elevated, civilised
But the only elevated thing
Is descending down
And bearing right on top of  me
The rush hour escalator traffic
platforms invaded
I Teeter on the edge paraded
passengers
I pledge to never get the peak traffic train
back in the same seat again petrified
half fried electrified I’m tired
not in the mood to face
The central station rat race
Strange confetti mixture of everyone
Permanently dark underground
I don’t think the architect ever found the sunshine
Else he would never have designed
such walls faded yellow sublime
or injected his liquid plastic scrawl
designs of slime down here
I bet he loves ’ bic’ biros
And perfect ironed creases in his flares
This place round and square
How dare he let it get this bad
The saving grace though, the people
Trodden tired happy sad
On a platform sodding sodium lit bad
Awful, they made us look awful
“Ooh central you are awful!”
And the flashing light is gathering
The late night unravelling
Of beer drinking boys
Staggering right towards me
Pit bull
And half full pint glass
Of lager
Missing father probably
Sent them off the rails
I have no shell to hide from them
I’m Naked a slug slimy trail they’re following me
I hate what it entails when I have to speak to them
They still ask for cigarettes
They steal your cash and nicorettes if you’re not
Looking
I’m booking my last ticket tomorrow
Thrust forward
Thrown
Disowned commuter this evening
Of Liverpool such a pretty city
Buzzing people happiness
But central

Nah central’s a mess.




------------------------------------------

This poem was performed at the everyman theatre last night (Deadgoodpoets society)
I realised that it's a bad idea to do fast, energetic rant ones first, as I have no breath left for a quiet piece, also the order is wrong. I totally messed up. Almost unforgiveable. Another lesson learned.