It Used To Be Great Here!

The shops, have long stood empty,
Shutters covering the windows and doors;
A meeting place, for teenage gangs,
Trying to evade the law.

Graffiti splashed across paths and walls,
Concrete posts, that emit no light;
Smashed, beyond recognition,
No protection, from the threatening night.

Litter, strewn across the desolate precinct,
A section scorched, from a burned out car;
An area avoided by the public,
Unless visiting the remaining bar.

An isolated corner shop, remains open,
An Asian family, still tries to trade;
Selling papers, and a few groceries,
Though their business is starting to fade.

No protection from the youths that gather,
Foul language, a constant threat;
Yet another break-in, to steal their stock,
Refused insurance, a guaranteed bet.

The police are regular visitors,
To disperse the intimidating yobs;
With nothing, to substantially occupy their time,
There’s little hope of them finding a job.

Broken glass, litters the car park,
The surrounding air, reeks of stale beer;
An unhinged pub sign, swings precariously,
Overflowing rubbish skips, seldom cleared.

Not a place to tempt family shoppers,
Nor a place to take friends for a drink;
Unwelcoming, to the occasional visitor,
Unprepared, to put up with the stink.

The towering flats, in the nearby locality,
House, not only these unruly louts,
But many, law abiding, decent folk,
Who have to travel, for their shopping days out.

Wary of leaving their property unguarded,
Securing doors, as they stock up, on wares;
Damaged lifts, invariably, not working,
Must use the urine soaked, concrete stairs.

Syringes, discarded in stairwells,
Amongst litter, scattered about,
Shadowy figures, loitering in huddled groups,
Residents, reluctant to venture out.

Trapped in their homes, for the rest of their time,
Imprisoned, in the towering slum;
Waiting for the council’s intervention,
And rehousing, in the years to come.

The only light at the end of the tunnel,
Is escape, to a better place;
To put hope in the hearts of the innocent,
And a smile back on their saddened face.

© Jim Bell

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