False Promise

Here -

Where...twisted paths sheepishly carve a route across knocked out grass and broken bale..

Where...shop doors embrace the bubble gum smell of illegal cheap drink..

Where...bricked up elegance is submerged behind hungry false promise..

Where...early day windows gather to taunt community editors..

Where...curled up broken yard hideaways become legend..

is the place language comes to die.




Sad Walls

Here -

Where...glitter ball glamour is boarded up and gig postered..

Where...simple gestures are challenged and closely debated..

Where...machine winnings replace job prospects..

Where...broken promises are public..

Where...sad walled archives crowd day time sky..

is the place language comes to die.




Invisible Feet

Here -

Where...glances do not go unnoticed and powerful voices weaken after each glass..

Where...crippled landscape shakes at the passing of invisible feet..

Where...tree top dead whispers flap on barbed wire peat field..

Where...mudless lanes fracture industry and metal..

Where...happiness is solitary, forgotten and distant..

is the place language comes to die.