Concrete collides as tarmac abides – thirty roads convene, never seen, on any tv screen

 unnamed, now maimed, their life in glass cages is spared the pages,

of novella – friends of the bookies teller.

As ligature trundles through lamplight square

Where a skinhead broods

a cyclical pictorial of life’s foul moods

Perceived through unseeing eyes

As – the doldrums defy the dutiful despiser

See the young men drunk off foetid Tizer

Come waste years with our local miser

sharing in wishful wanks over GB tanks

As the young have null to do

Their own reflections could make them blue

‘Cause Baudelaire Jane has got no shame – beneath the precinct’s solemn shadow

With Zeal through zealotry, to nicotine – the erosion to her sheen

Seeking thirty ways to gleam, lost youth, with couth, lacking aplenty

‘Cause there’s no sign of the gentry

And a one way ticket for your entry

As concrete collides and tarmac abides

Here in Slepton’s sordid dysentery.

Spilt wine and dreams detail the floors

The common blanket is cardboard

Blissful boredom begets the dull

A brief distraction from their void of null

Served festering lobster fresh from the cull

In the one and only wine and diner

Get your prophecies foretold by the local shoe shiner

Be back for five and have all this

So come feel the sting of Slepton’s kiss.

A skyhigh permutation

It’s the stab at gentrification

Mild mannered meanders through moulded faux malls

The curtain now falls

And beneath the drape lays an obtuse waste

Another bitter taste of Britain’s forgotten lot

Well, well, well can you spot yourself there?

Armed with your waning fantasies and receding hair

As concrete collides, as tarmac abides

In the land void of the gentry

This is Slepton – evidently.

Where billboards aux contraire

Advertise ointment for your straw hair

Get a slipstream, slick sheen, for an interior affair.

Always shut but never open

All should be as all must see

We hacked away at our last tree.

Natures final stand

As Willows bleed

Harkening forward Handfuls of weed

Where disaster flashes

It’s drugs for the masses

As is Slepton’s omnipotent greed.

Those nought for notes you bought with votes

Oh how I hope it improves life!

The abundant strife, a curved knife, which wriggles within your bowels.

A demise watched by murderous owls; with boisterous vowels and furious youth’s

With gangrene festering in their tooth’s 

Concrete collides and tarmac abides

Split only by a solemn cough

Here in Slepton’s oxidised trough. 

Concrete collides, tarmac abides

Thirty roads in with no exit sign

Encased is all by malignant design

There’s so much here to malign

There’s so much here to lament

When escape seems so distant

Slepton’s miasma is evident.

Religious propaganda, working class slander

Billboards bought of products solely to be sought

Bloodied limbs and Ragged sores

Opportunity hides and never knocks

Between opened doors and mouse chewed floors

Be born and die in a cardboard box

Upon the precipice of Slepton’s weathered docks.

 He was discarded, dismayed

So the gentrifier sprayed

Forty five bullets at the centre of the town

Five hundred houses reserved for the crown

Mice place their bets and revolt against vets

Let’s wait it out and hope for the best

In slepton’s bloodless heart

Don’t you place a bet ’till it all starts

The spectacle begins as we announce our sins

The masses cry – Bill Hill wins 

Sizing up his swan song tour

Rising, scabrous, from the ashes of Slepton’s rodent war.