Misery transcends time

Misery transcends time

I share my air with flies that
Buzz overhead.
They breathe my oxygen,
And glisten in the sunlight.

Economics A-Level.
Business studies.
University for four years.
A small apprenticeship maybe.
Then the Northern Line;
The stench of bodies, washed but unclean.
Their sweat glistens
As their flesh collides.
The train hurtles south.
Kentish Town.
Their skin rubes with yours.
Camden Town;
Recycled oxygen. Men in suits bottled, like
The flies trapped in that oppressive room.
Moorgate; Bank: an exodus.
The droves of mindless men move through
The grey streets of London Town.

You sit at your desk.
You crunch the numbers.
If you marry, you may drive a BMW or Merc;
If not you may get that Porsche.

The past is dead.
Auschwitz-Birkenau. Bergen-Belsen.
Korea, Cambodia, Vietnam.

Now you rule.
Today you sit in your class or pissaround at university.
Tomorrow you pack like sardines into the Northern Line;
Change at Kings Cross.
Half-hour for lunch - sandwich - Pret A Manger.

When the violence erupts;
And the truncheons crash down on their heads;
The blood of a punk spoils the grey aesthetic
Of the pavement outside Liverpool Street;
(You never liked red);
Don't shower down the photocopied '50's.

Tomorrow. When you take the tube;
When you splatter your sweat on the face
Of a 25-year-old woman. (You won't notice).
Tomorrow, when you take the keys to the BMW.
When you mind the gap, then
Emerging from the depths,
As the vile stench clears
And your eye catches daylight,
Remember them, the bitter dispossessed;
Who's tears sustain you.
Then break from deception's ashes.
Revolutionise.