On the way down
To Dad’s office
To print up
A few poems
When I spotted the
Knackers outside the courtyard
A lawyer all too used to lying
But this was a different story
Cans of Dutch
Spliffs between their lips
Gave the game away
Didn’t help that
The judge was sitting inside his room
A few feet away
A reek of B.O
That made passersby
Catch a breath
The leader
At least what looked like the leader
Cracked a can
Stared right at me
Through me
What ya looking at?
Demanded an answer
Not much mate
Didn’t say that
Of course
Afford to say such a thing
Wondered how the hell
They got away with their day
Stealing food from the shops
Cans from the Off-Licence
Money from the dole
But kept on going
Kept on urinating in street corners
Spitting in strangers faces
Some were worse than others
Of course
One fella lobbed another off the bridge
Last year
Real piece of work
Got jail time
Deserved the chair
There’s a fella
If I can call him that
Who spent the morning pissing
Out the window
Two doors down
Proceeded to throw an empty bottle of Huzzar
In my direction
Bloody hell
What happened that made it go
So wrong for this lot
Night after night eating cold meals
Smoking mounds of stolen pot
I pray to God the jailbird
Involved with the bridge murder
Doesn’t get to read this poem
Do they read poems in jail though
Doubt it somehow
They can hardly read the back of a cereal box