The Precinct

The rain and sleet on the monolith concrete

would soak through that wide open space,

benches for lovers girls soon to be mothers

arms in anoraks wrapped in embrace,

Help the Police to beat yourself up

was where the marker pen met the profound

graffiti displays like ‘Jesus saves’ but

Coppell gets it in on the rebound

Slashes for grasses and stitches for snitches

warned touts and spouts would meet their death

in a Ford Escort car a skin digged his ska

then in matt black paint he wrote NF

The object lessons were scrawls of expressions

composed upon the cold precinct walls

and now I hurl my distaste at the space they’ve replaced

with plastic and glass covered malls.


© JB Barrington – Words Escape Me 2013


About JB Barrington

The words & verse of JB Barrington; performance poet from Salford. Lovely stuff, touches heart strings and the odd raw nerve - Johnny Vegas Great poems; great delivery - Terry Christian A warm charm, a rapier wit and a real appreciation of words - Louder Than War
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