Beggar My Neighbour
“The gippos are setting up at the old Granville Colliery”,
Dad’s code for they’ll-nick-yer-bike
get-yer-milk-in-off-the-doorstep-quick.
This mind-birthed beast takes an age to dispatch
“The nignogs are taking all the jobs at Sankeys”,
Mum’s code for they’ll-break-in-one-night
looking-to-rob-looking-to-fuck-looking-to-fight.
in its very definition of a necessary work in progress
“The pakis have taken over the chippie and the Spar”,
Gran’s code for they’ll-breed-and-they’ll-stink
with-their-unclean-curry-their-grease-shifty-junk.
all is skinned up, lingo’d, labelled, lashed with power’s tongue
“The gippos, the nignogs, the pakis: all are in me”,
my code for riches-in-listening-tasting-seeing
playing-loving-moving-growing-knowing-being.
the lick of the beast that ever defies death.