Walk from New Cross Gate to Greenwich High Road,
Via Deptford Broadway, my mind explodes.
Dickensian days, cold November nights,
Nationalist thug bullies picking fights,
“Oo you lookin’ at? You want some? Come on!”
Decades old slogans, same ignorant songs.
Closed down shops have rolled down steel shutters,
Freebie newspapers blow along gutters,
So called journalists write stories reckless,
Describe new poor as lazy and feckless.
Near Marquis Of Granby girl begs again,
Hungry, pathetic, her eyes filled with pain,
Traffic relentless each twenty four hours,
Hope dies slowly, democracy cowers……

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 29th November 2022


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