Monday, September 5, 2016


My weekend started on Wednesday afternoon
But it took me until Saturday morning before I’d drank
Myself calm, to the point where I could just sit and
Think, postulating on some words and wondering
Where I’m going

Last night was fun, like a flashback to the start of
The millennium when an old friend came to visit
And she was on ecstasy and drunk whilst me, well, I’d
Relapsed again and was on the weed and drinking
And we wandered the North Laine

Going from bar to bar her accent attracted the wrong
Kind of attention as finally at the last stop she was
Refused service as they claimed she was too drunk
But I just knew and explained it away and soon we were
Supping lovingly a gorgeous beer

Before she went back to her hotel and I continued
My walk back home, stopping for beer and chaser
And some wild rock’n’roll in a pub that haunts my
Words as I’ve written about shit going down there
Many times before.


It was sad news that greeted me that wistful
Thursday night as word came through of another
Lost to his mind which had been ravaged by
His short torturous life.

An old friend sent me a text asking about him
Had I seen him around?
Yes I said, the other week I ran into him in the library
As I was heading out to work and he didn’t seem too well

Yes came my friends’ reply who had seen him
A couple of days after I had but what came then
Was even worse than even I could have envisioned
As he told the story from the intervening time

He burnt down his flat and yet no one has
Heard from him since, his sister who lives
Nearby hadn’t heard a word and his parents
Worried sick had reported him missing to the police

But what is there to do, the last time we talked
He was keen on the opium and I knew some distance
Had to be placed between us but not if it ended up
Like this with him missing and everyone worried

And thoughts of what has he done since we’d
Been so tight.  His life had clearly taken a bad turn
And now I wish I’d stuck with him
Even if it meant I could just keep an eye on him.


I was at work yesterday when this crazy lady came in, started shouting at a child who wanted a bit of chocolate
It weren’t even her kid and she then started ranting at a colleague of mine about her distress and her awful life
I stepped in and told her it was her behaviour that was causing the trouble and she stood and simply began screaming
I fessed up and told her I was a recovering drug addict and that really sent her over the edge
“What are you doing working at all?”
Well I got a postgraduate degree I tried to explain and the government thought I was fit to work
I told her to shut up as she had no idea of true suffering and pain and she threw down her shopping
Stormed out our shop and then the mother of the aforementioned child said thanks and apologised for her child’s behaviour
I simply smiled and said no worries as I do with most of my customers and slowly things returned to normal
As my colleagues congratulated me on dealing with this horrid woman who now doubtless will tell anyone who will listen
That my shop is full of over-qualified drug fiends who shouldn’t be working, now how she expects me to survive I frankly don’t care
Because her type will always go mad and die alone as she works out that maybe her life ain’t the hardest of all in this town
Where madness and drugs rule so many lives...


A night just like any other when I’m stood outside a bar
Smoking a roll-up, drinking my beer and I look around
At this wasted scene
A homeless drunk lies prone on the floor
Under a sleeping bag
Designed to keep him warm
But over to the left is a gang of kids
About half-dozen of them
Hoods in place
Mobile phone blasting out some tinny R’n’B
Back where I came from
They’d be the kind who hustle you down
Steal your money
Or threaten to knife you if you didn’t obey
But in this town I just stay until my roll-up has finished
Because these kids ain’t like the ones who bothered me back then
And I laugh as a siren wails and suddenly they run off
Back to their middle-class homes
As an ambulance speeds up Queens Road
They are nowhere to be seen

There are plenty of types in this town who you do have to worry about
But not tonight as I’m still drug-free and my mind runs lucidly
The kids in this part of town will never concern me


On a break at work and I stand outside my shop
Smoking a smoke and taking in the scene
It’s late and I don’t come round this way at this time of night
So I get a chance to see, the chance to view the human geography
The nightmare of twenty-first century life here in the developed world
North Street, Brighton on a Wednesday night
A homeless street musician plays a song about no one liking him
As people walk pass him looking down their noses in disdain
Destroying their idea of these so-called civilized times
Next to me is sat a couple, they look like real rough sleepers
As the woman sits pushing on a pimple on her cheek as
The man next to her seems to be so exhausted he can’t do anything but sleep
All this whilst sat outside an Oxfam shop begging for donations
Standing orders, direct debits is all they care for
Whilst our heroic couple just hunker down hoping for a warm night
And enough money to get some food in the morning
A mad eyed tramp comes in my shop and collects his coppers together
All in a bid to get some form of nicotine
‘What’s your cheapest baccy?’ he asks as he counts out nearly 3 quid
In nothing but 1s, 2s and 5 pence pieces
It’s clearly been a hard day for him and the life from here
As summer turns to autumn is going to get nothing but harder
For this is so-called living in contemporary Britain.


It’s the afternoons when I ain’t out at work that drags real long and it’s hard to think of what to do when there ain’t any drugs to do
I could go to the bar but it’ll be empty as happy hour don’t start for another hour and on a Tuesday afternoon time drags real slow
Even when you got a beer
What I really need to keep my mind wandering off to old bad habits is just some fucking company
But when all the people I know are either working on something or out of town or worse yet
Recovering alcoholics who you don’t want to see
As I’ve always been labelled a bad influence and hell all I want to do is drink to forget this self-proclaimed exile from mental insanity

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...