Riff Raff
All the riff raffed, mish mashed homes,
filled with trish trashed, slip slashed groans
of those that didn't fit the systems ways
and now seem condemned to spends their days
in squalid squats of social isolation
not a tourist bonus for the nation
Roads not visited without good reason
windows boarded whatever the season
street lights dimmed by syphoned power
something going down there any old hour
who knows when the last beats flutter
amongst the junkies who can't afford butter
Desolation infests them beyond our ken
what a place for life amongst civilised men
not that many care to see their fate
if spoken of it's with unfeeling hate
of anything that might shake their belief
that our society has no real cause for grief
So while the headlines scream out about
the economy that's gone down the spout
who stops and wonders how much worse
it may be for those who'll fit a hearse
in cardboard coffins if they are found
often decayed before going under ground...
©Rhumour
September 26th 2010
Lynn Dye
Tue 28th Sep 2010 22:15
I think this is really good, Dave. It's sad but unfortunately true.