I suppose the division lies with Black etc. not being seen to have a culture of them own.
But instead viewed as unruly, their misbehaviour na’ following the hosts wishes.
I suppose the division lies with Black etc. not being seen to have a culture of them own.
But instead viewed as unruly, their misbehaviour na’ following the hosts wishes.
They’re all on strike today and the day before that too. The doctors, the teachers, postal workers and the late Southern workers.
the radio says they’re selfish, caring about them own, devil may care about the repercussions.
we’re all fractured, aspiring for a togetherness, in spiteful factions. Blind to other’s pleas.
Croydon doesn’t have any new council houses, but we’ve got a new council building
and someone built us all a lovely new Box Park.
Escape,
A dream I guess to be usual.
A tearing departure from the ties and debts
which all but depict the future
that’ll soon pass.
My dad said avoid being that guy
the old man in the corner of the club.
The guy nursing cherry wine or a more contemporary courvoisier and coke.
1Xtra keeps me musically on trend, though I question its taste more daily.
Future’s drawl’s too dank for my De La ears.
My playlist, it’s turned more club classic than new bangers.
Brandy, Jahiem and Tribe doing concerts to my demographic.
Didn’t they used be called SWV, Soul II Soul & Sade?
My classic playlist speckled with now cringey R&B…
… the odd Blink 182 I used to hide in my youth,
It’s overdue teenage angst now aloud.
It’s not contemporary
but it has the honest sound of a new old black man.
I wonder
do I see
more homeless,
more hopeless
and more clueless than ever before.
Or is this just the clarity
that adulthood offers?
When did Fetty Wap
replace stevie Wonder,
with an infinitly more sight
but a sliver of insight.
I read somewhere that parents spend less time with their children than 40 years ago.
And this thought spins in my head as I see your daughter in silence,
Her hands plaited on her lap. Her mother the other end of the 312.
Partisan extremism seems to be on the rise these days.
We all want to be part of something.
Unsolicited
really that’s the only type of honesty there is.
A compliment bubbling through the lips of admiration.
un-tinged by the cynicism of self benefit.
Do I say thanks enough?
To those who do what I’ve come to expect.
To those who meet my assumptions, and fulfill my needs.
I wave a soon forgotten thanks
to those paused at the zebra crossing
allowing me to just catch the tram I would have just been late for.
My friends and family, bastions of support and love,
I see you,
even if my words do not reach your ears.
Perhaps I do not give enough meaningful thanks,
as I applaud my own hard work’s achievements.
But I’d be floored without your outstretched arms, your words
repairing my ego raising a coy smile.
Perhaps I shy away,
to give thanks is to admit a weakness, a vulnerability
healed by another’s words and actions,
a naked appreciation masked in a mini shame.
And so I’d like to thank you Ashley,
for all you’ve done
doing nothing special at all.