A Proper Brightonian
I’m a proper Brightonian
I come from Milner Flats
Living there was pandemonium
We were worse off, than the rats
I’m really from this city
Proper born and bred
For my gang, school was shitty
We went on the rob instead
We had to forage for food in bins
Bohemian, for us was just a song
We stole beer, from the liquor store called “Unwins“
This city is where I belong
The Muesli mountain, did not exist
The homeless were called tramps
They were normally all pissed
Or asleep under our skateboard ramps
We started the deals at a park called the Level
Selling “tenths” of squidgy and black
Some say the work of the Devil
Who cares, I’m from Milner Flats
About the Creator
Warwick Holding
I’ve always been a storyteller, I’d love to say I was a writer, but I can’t. If people were even reading this on the toilet. I’d be humbled.
I write short, but true stuff, I try to mix honesty with humour, because it’s the only way I know
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Paint and Weave
Author's Notes: I rediscovered my 1980's poetry magnets box and in it were two poems I find compelling. I recall having challenged myself to create two poems using the same set of words. These two poem are what spilled out. Which one resonates more with you, version A or B? Leave it in Comments. I'd love to know your thoughts!
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"Murray! Wake up!" He loved that period between waking and dreaming. To him, it was like entering another dimension; more of a dreamscape than dreaming itself. There was an otherness to it that he wanted to grasp and yet deeply respected the fact that it could never be his totally. This is what gossamer was; flighty and light, a wisp of smokiness, an idea suggested but not fully revealed, a slit in cloth, a copse in the wood.
By Rachel Deeming5 days ago in Fiction
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