The following are two new poems from Tadhg Scott. Tadhg is a journalist and film maker from Dublin.
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The Work Day
by T Scott
Four slender, silver walls box me in
Box us all in; in this corporate prison
Too safe to complain
Here too long to do any more
The same thought has crossed minds
Since the dawn of industrialisation
Alarm, shower, food, commute
Work, work, work, work
Food, work, work, work
Commute, food, recreate, sleep
Too safe to complain
Here too long to do any more
Oh for the will to revolt
A will that is pushed away by fear
Fear of an economic crunch
More powerful than a David Haye punch
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A London weekend
By T Scott
It starts with a Ryanair flight
Oh Michael O’Leary, despite your lack of frills
We do love you dearly
Off the plane, into a train
Off to see all about London town
A drink and fish and chips in The Perseverance
At one time bombings were planned here
Now we sit in peace; English and Paddy side by side
A drink becomes ten; time for the city
Cabbie brings us down, south of the town
The Elephant and Castle welcomes us in
Into the bosom of Corsica Studios
Where minimal techno bombards our ears
Hours on end of repetitive beats
Beats that are mixed with a cocktail
Of drugs that twist and lift the spirit and mind
Drinking and random acts of banter
With friends and passing strangers alike
From here back to the gaff
Vodka, pills, Sidric, Oprah
And fireworks too on Halloween night
All the essentials for a rollover tonight
The dawn breaks and it’s time to face the light
A refreshing cycle down Broadway market
Totally high, is the only way to clear the mind
An impromptu jam with a hired guitar to follow
Then down the canal, winos in spirit
A group huddled together shielding our eyes
Drinking and laughing and pretending to threaten passers-by
Dares to jump in the water, fall on by
So, to the pub: Arsenal v Spurs
The perfect way to while away more pints
And occupy the mind
Sleep is no longer an option
Back to the gaff, more additions to the plethora of chemicals
Finally, the faint tint of sleep tinges my eyes
And, I’m gone…
Until 8pm, rudely awoken by the drone of X-Factor
Jedward, Cheryl, Danii and Simon
Commercialism compounded
A can of cheap Belgian lager
Shunted into my palm
This engages my mind
And starts a new cycle
Off to Hackney
Too lazy for fancy dress
Genies, wizards, slags, homeboys
All the fancy dress options unfold
A bottle of vodka is all the camouflage I need
Down, down, down into my belly
Ron Burgundy would be proud
And then on to the next session
Just around the corner, where I meet her
I nestle my lips on her neck
And my hands on her arse
Her golden Asian skin
A scented delight
McDonalds at 4 in the morning
Followed by pills for breakfast and a stumble home
For I’m up early in the morning
One knows one is truly adult
When Monday brings meetings in the city
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