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A poem about two cities, 12000 miles apart,
but when it comes to politics, the same!
Bradford in England, Manukau in New Zealand.

                We all know
                 there is an authentic world
                 being endured,
                 in the inner city.
                 Rampant “Bradford” In the north,
                                 “Manukau” In the south,
                 all insidious pavements
                 lead only to concepts of
                 harmonious bickering,
                 acrid tasting pollution
                 bound by the “Red Ribbon”
                 of municipal crap!
                 True blue generations reared
                 in socialistic ideals,
                 surrounded by slabs of concrete
                 to demean a catabolism
                 of one’s comfort zone,
                 a system nurtured
                 in closed minds, torn souls!
                 Yet today many voices
                 constantly cry out,
                 from behind the barriers
                 that society constructed erroneously;
                 voices that ripple
                 the airwaves, before being
                 immersed in an ocean of
                 radical subversion.
                 “If only to keep them bastards down.”
                 “Manningham lane”
                                 “Preston road”
                 Teeming with cultivated
                 inclinations, fenced in like cattle
                 where the “Acropolis” Meets
                 the “Ghetto” That invisible
                 boundary of frailty, whether physical
                 or in one’s self righteous mind!

© Harry J Horsman 1997

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