Poetry: ‘Amid The Buzz Of The Train Tracks’ by @NarkiP

Amid the buzz of the train tracks…

Amid the buzz of the train tracks,

The chat­ter of for­eign maids,

Both on the lanes of Old Town

And in the House of Charades

There is a whis­per a creep­ing,

Just rumours per­haps

Of a silent revolu­tion

Unseen on TV or maps.

They are the aspir­ing urb­an bour­geois­ie,

Born of ex con­men and ‘grants

Now embra­cing offered oppor­tun­ity,

Chase for a dol­lar, pound note.

Hungry for their great­ness,

Proud, walks with an air

So that the indi­gen­ous pat­ri­ots

React in bit­ter des­pair.

“We’ve lost our good nation,

They’ve nabbed all our jobs.

We used to be able to stroll at night,

Now streets over­run with slaves, dogs and slobs.”

So the pub men think them filthy,

The media beast embraces their pound,

Politi­cians lower spend­ing and pro­spect

Of more inner city geni­us’ being found.

Yet the bour­geois­ie know the truth,

Irrel­ev­ant wheth­er black or white,

For they are united in their pur­suit

Of des­troy­ing status quo,

Soci­ety’s reorder com­ing light




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