Monday, 13 December 2021

Wrong side of the tracks


 

On the wrong side of the tracks,

evening creeps in.

Heroin and cocaine couriers on bicycles,

like Hermes for undesirables.

Only locals take to the streets,

eyes avoiding any gaze they meet.

Buses no longer circling,

aware of fare dodgers and attack.

Taxis stop at the outskirts,

scared of a knife plunged into their back

 

On the wrong side of the tracks,

they would steal from you

and then charge for the privilege of having your stuff back.

A burnt-out car warming the night.

The sounds of sirens,

red and blue strobe nightlight,

to lull us to sleep tight.

It was never dull in these environs.

 

On the wrong side of town

after dark when the sun is down.

Gangs looked for something to pass the time,

cheap cider, some weed.

"Where's the crime"

They'd say.

Spraying chunks of kebab

over the pathway.

 

On the wrong side of the tracks,

fashion victims of a 90's flashback.

St Georges flag waving, instead of curtains.

knock off Ralph Laurens, Imitation Doc Martens.

Burberry shirt washed as new,

baseball cap worn askew

to hide from cameras view,

In case of Crimewatch fame for you and your crew.

 

On the wrong side of the tracks,

cheap perfume and aftershave.

Cigarette and vomit fill the air ways

of the old flat roof.

Dart board removed.

The locals look for a night cap,

snakebite and black.

Stained carpet flooring,

chairs with filler outpouring.

Valuables chained in place,

Stella with a whiskey chaser,

Wife beater

and hate speech baiter.

 

On the wrong side of the road,

in the darkest hour of night,

they would goad and fight.

Screaming with rage,

domestic taken to the streets,

Import cigarettes extinguished under feet.

As they bleat,

like sheep, a constant drone.

But they all say

that this is home.

 

On the wrong side of the tracks.

10-year-old talks back,

swearing and cursing

with a sailor’s mouth.

Beer can in hand,

life already heading south.

Generation after generation

get lost in the cracks.

Prison cell second home,

father institutionalised,

won’t be home for long.

 

 

Thanks for reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle

check out my latest book on Amazon and Waterstones 

Https://tinyurl.com/KCHFITS

 

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