Psychogeography #2

I

left to rot for sixty years

The 16A goes to Keresley
But there is some kerfuffle
By the jewellers with a skateboard and a passerby’s head
And once more there is blood on the Burges
And you would need all the pure water
In the river Sherbourne
Running under Kong and the dented cans of alcohol
To clean up after the five fast food outlets
Including the newly extended McDonalds

An embarrassment to the city  
Said a Coventry councillor
Which is a pity for the pay day loan shop
The pawnbrokers the casino the five bookmakers
And the pre-war Cross
Which still gets a good footfall
Almost as good as the now defunct Pink Parrot
And the VIP Cleopatra’s
From the pissing on themselves pensioners
On the mobility scooters after a few beers
Especially after a few beers

left to rot for sixty years

And the skinhead bootboys are jeering
With their neo-fascist tattoos
The fire brigade fleet
Who first came up the no go
At Ironmonger Row
And then drove the wrong way
Down the one way road at Trinity Street

Obviously, they weren’t thinking straight
Coming under pressure

Harry Finch, one of the store managers
Who works there
Says that sometimes you look down here
And it’s very intimidating

left to rot for sixty years

II

Cast the city in concrete
Culvert the river
1960s to now anti- boom no room
For nurture or nature
Or love

Cup your ears
By Cross Cheaping
And you’ll hear
The slow flow Sherbourne
Gurgling towards Far Gosford street

The Ring Road is no longer safe
There is an anarchist clerk in the Herbert Read
Who is planning an uncovering
Flood the mainland

A guerrilla outfit of Sherbourne settlers
Are worn from dry thirst
They fish and drink
Amidst the bins and back doors of murk

Small band plans a Strike
And with the Herbert Read man
Will lead the whole of Hillfields
And those still surviving in Wood End

In a big roadworthy boat
Down Palmer’s Lane
To the original town of Cune
Where the first bridges can reemerge

And even the nonrevolving restaurant
In the old Precinct
Will stand on its head and dance
In a torn punk t-shirt and fishnets
Serving amphetamine refreshment

Once more our river run
Drink up jack up
Our reservoir rain
We are again drunk 
Now is our time to STRIKE!


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