Corpse

This poem was inspired by JB Barrington and named for the slang term from theatre – spoiling a piece of acting by laughing or forgetting lines.


buildings are empty
shop fronts boarded in hordes
shells to house the homeless
one would think
but The Man cares more
for what sells
the smell of stocks and shares
what’s the worth of a human heart
the crisis of prices and sacrifices
where council-owned cooked books
stink like the shit in the parks

Northampton’s high streets are in disarray
those tin-can buses always delayed
no space for prams in those brittle frames
a horse-drawn Stagecoach is all that remains

take some of those London pounds
and invest it in the shoe town
it’s not rocket science
spend it on transport and arts
stop filling the coffers of the bourgeois
and be gone with those potholes
give pounds not pennies
as that’s not hoarding
that’s affluence for the many.

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