A charitable love cast out in your city
Free education at the highest cost
Plucked petals land on
You loved us not?
With your flower in my hand,
Brown bronze reminders of remembrance
Lest we forget
Surely its time
I’m standing at your weir
No longer wheeling snuff
But this stuff
This stuff we are left with
What really happened pre the ‘yous‘ in Africa?
Is it yet to be written, revealed or verified by academic hand ?
Still, I cannot blame you the dead
I blame the living who preside and concur
What would you say today?
Who would you be?
Would you be somehow in amongst with the best of ’em can in hand?
A can, not a pipe the Bristol accessory
Cuz they’ll be no dreams round here
Just a fag and a can at the end of a shift for the living dead
To shift minds away from this stuff
This enforced stuff
This workhouse stuff
This unjust stuff
This Bristol stuff
Between Baron and Beggar
I hear distant voices saying
‘Don’t cry for me smile for you’
Yet good Mr Stewart says
‘I wouldn’t want to be young living now’
Fact and fiction
Like it or not
Your name haunts this City
Scattered artist chalk walked and drove into concrete
They’ll be no white wash on these streets
St Pauls is not for sale
Thoughts on daylighting rivers
For the sake of the environment
Long covered up
Might make a moot or a moo
For a non poisonous chance to life