A message from Dark Town...

Ah, St David’s Day once more. I don’t write much poetry these days, some might say that I never did or should have, but there are some days that deserve special recognition, when nothing but a poem will do, and today is one of them. So to celebrate this day, for one reason and not another, here’s a poem. Best read it out loud.

Unfinished In Dark Town

I’ve seen you around in Dark Town

Kicking and thrashing things held dear

Marking your ground like a bombardier

Rubbing away at your gonorrhoea

Faking a smile or crocodile tear

Spitting out blood and trembling in fear

At a whispered word in your old man ear

As you piss down on another’s beer

All spittle lipped and dirty leer

At some young kid or passing queer

Offering chips when they pass near

They know you well in Dark Town

They know your stench, can tell your mood

As you fuck suck up your favourite food

Claiming that you’re misunderstood

Badly damaged in childhood

That all your sad is really good

And though it shouldn’t you make it should

Not changing couldn’t into could

And doing all this in thick cold blood

You turn clear water into mud

And all for the cross of womanhood

You can hide where you want in Dark Town

You can call the police or change your number

Sneer at girls out on a bender

Breathe in their smell and make ‘em shudder

Even play the great pretender

But keep on looking over your shoulder

As you lie and cheat and steal and moulder

Cos one day when you’re not much older

I’ll tell her the things I never told her

Spoil the shine of her tin-pot soldier

And leave her world a great deal colder

I’ll be there like a blowtorch

And I’m gonna burn ya

In Dark Town.