Wednesday, December 09, 2015

Letters from the London suburbs




Dear friends, enemies, stalkers, passer through-ers,Double bent
in drab blacks
I dart the road busy as flies on fresh shit.
The foolhardy, wet-friendly, eat pink ice-cream on pavement grey slime
under a canopy of gush
guzzling walnut fuzzy-feeling coffee
wishing a bulb of light in the sky.
And then there's Zelda, in the pound shop,
your joie-de-death look in a puff skirt filled with blood scenes from crime movies,
lips thin as blue litmus,
and double helix earrings trapped in a fright of knots
wearing a frill of dead yellow
elasticated at the cuffs.
Your glazed eyes said:
‘Life has got to be better than 99p.’

Thursday, November 05, 2015

Letters from the London suburbs


Throughout late summer and autumn I've been exploring differentiation, suburban isolation, belonging and mental health. These ‘Letters from the London Suburbs’ are proving popular on the social media circuit, the circuit of life, so to speak.