A Poem for a Recession

by John Stocks

I am invisible. I walk the streets
Gazing in shop windows. With soulless mirth
Noting the trends. The drift to Burlesque.
Thinking to myself. Nothing works anymore.
Eight calls to the doctor. Always engaged.
And the dram shops. Locked and barred.

I am invisible. Wind’s from the North.
I lean to the right. The spite of recession,
It’s just like the eighties. I close my eyes.
It’s all blather. The blind leading the blind.
You don’t see me. I’ve seen it all before.
And television. Tits and arse repeats.

I am invisible. You hollow-eyed,
Dumbed-down. You deserve each other.
Tedium. Life’s a bitch and then you die.
Accountants, moneylenders rule the world.
Newspapers full of lies. The end of time.
Bitter? You bet I am. Dead and bitter.
Invisible. The God you could have known.