AUTHORS NOTE: I briefly had a dream that I was reading out a Patti Smith poem in the market place where I live and I immediately woke up and wrote this poem. It just documents my grief for the loss of the town - it's always been a shithole but it was our shithole; there was community. Everyone used to look out for each other, now they COMPETE with each other. Anyway here it is, I hope it doesn't burn your ears/eyes too much!
Goodbye Rasen...
Goodbye to the rats infested with poison
To the thieves, the squealers and small time dealers
The swindlers, minglers and bicycle pinchers
So long to the scrap man who just wants your boiler
So long to the dickhead in a Citroen with a spoiler
Farewell to the zombies leaving town for much further
Taking stolen goods to Lincoln cash converters
To the croakers in line outside boots at noon,
Sticking to the script or returning to the spoon
Goodbye Rasen, hello new build estates
Goodbye Rasen, disappearing at such a rate
See ya later to the bitches who are not as they seem
To the snitches who grass to keep their own asses clean
To the pisshead stumbling from The Chase in the rain
To the testosterone fueled anger of steroids and cocaine
Sleep well to the good ones we lost along the way
Hold tight to the others who just seemed to lose their way
To the faces who survived and who will always be around,
The wide eyed eccentrics who belong in this town
Goodbye Rasen, it's the end of an era
Goodbye Rasen, it's never been clearer
So long to the pretense of the instagram goddess
Spending more time in cubicles not being so modest
To the sniffers who thrive off of feeling supreme
A false sense of superiority to replace a low self esteem
Goodbye Rasen, it was worth a try
Goodbye Rasen, you put the good in goodbye
No comments:
Post a Comment