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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:20:09 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 176557
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Council Estate
[time] => 2013-07-20 03:41:28
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => At the train station commuters spawn from all directions pouring off escalators, seeping out of elevators. Crowds swelling, woven together with invisible threads, lurching and thrusting towards exits, each one in turn spilling out on to the street. Then like dandelion seeds in a harrying breeze, they scatter in all directions. I head towards my estate where the traffic wanes and unregistered foot- steps quicken the pulse and jealousy is reserved exlusively for petty things: larger balances, engines, houses, incomes, biceps, testes. Where aggressive children are untamable and unemployment is unavoidable where the safety nets of social security would be better described as cobwebs. Where decent people are savaged and diminished by the daily functionings of this estate. Walking onwards, towards home where concrete has conquered pasture where houses get smaller and dirtier and the streets branch out narrow and sinewy. So condensed and intimate are these streets. Stream lined clouds are finely spreaded across the sky's canvass by stray aeroplanes, and as the light drains from the electric blue horizon intenser becomes the atmosphere now every sound is amplified. Walking further into the heart of this giant amphitheatre the sweat prickles on my neck as I listen attentively to the sounds of listless urban wildlife, lawnmowers and strimmers house-alarms and distant car horns dogs yelping and scuffling round kennels. And attentively I listen to the sounds from beyond net curtains when windows are thrown wide open, The bellows and tantrums of parent v adolescent showdowns and the sounds of meal-times the clatter of cutlery and chairs scraping across floors. Televisions sets blarring and old couples flicking though the T.V times orchestrating their evenings entertainment. Walking onwards in the punishing sun, past sun blanched linen draped over balconies sweaty shrubs and sticky tarmac weeds, brambles, beer cans poking out beneath wilting fences. Alleyways littered with shards of glistening green glass, I walk past a pale kid on a wall swinging his legs in solitude. Further I probe theres carrier bags skittering over parched grass banks dusty piles of debris and battered to-let signs the smell of bonfires and old men on door- steps reading newspapers. Knowing I can't stand days like this everything ordinary is magnified exposed for what it is either spoilt, soured, or just merely functioning, aimlessly existing, for what? to be replaced by what? to be devoured by what? Time? To be improved alone by what? Chance? Or individual fortune? Or large-scale altruism, By those who pull the levers in this country? Ha! Drug dealers and prostitutes have made fortunes and careers out of us lot mitigating the drudgery of living around here. Two streets away I pass near the church I hear the choir within it and their mournful apologetic songs sung solemly to their dieties in defiance. Together they stand amid fluid emotions harmonised and fused as one. Launderettes and bookies contain such lovely people. Though some now forlorn frail and timorous, they still stand as a tribute and testament to the generation in which they belong. Lovely people, throughout their entire life they've maintained their dignity lived obediently and respectfully what an example to us all! Of how obediance and respect are not agents for change! Or establishing a dignified standard of living round here! [comments] => 1 [counter] => 97 [topic] => 21 [informant] => flavellm [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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