Pockets of Life, poetry by Saeed Haq at Spillwords.com
Anastasia R

Pockets of Life

Pockets of Life

written by: Saeed Haq


Another daybreak,
breaks the sleep, adventure, anonymity of night,
slowly revealing hidden cells of life,
multiply, spread like bacteria,
isolated from the rest of the world,
a disease nobody wants.

Half of a disease living in palatial ghettos,
unwanted houses,
treated like shit,
scum, that’s what they call it,
all held prisoners in life’s mortal shackles,

The other half pretending,
continue as though nothing has happened,
wallowing in painless sleep, undisturbed,
realise their dreams,
ambitions, float in slumber,
Broken by the dawning of a new day.

Sorrow in a dream of hollow eyes, search,
scour, pillage gold-paved streets,
which lay littered with jewels of yesterday.

A man in royal-robes moves elegantly,
like a peasant, as his rickety frame allows,
scavenges for delicate-dishes,
rejected by society that no longer wants them,
Past their ‘sell-by’ date, like him who picks them up.

Beggars banquet, rattle their tins for small change,
With their kids in tow, to learn their trade,
Psychological coaxing, emotional blackmail
Look at you funny if you refuse them
Dressed like business people ready to bargain.

A child raids a rusty treasure chest,
A rubbish skip, laden with golden ‘Lego’ bricks that
Built better monuments of long-ago,
his precious ambitions never realised
Laying tattered, scattered, shattered,
Rubbled, like the very same golden bricks that he now tries to steal,
Trying to rebuild his life that’s in a heap of debris
Neglected by society, that’s supposed to help him.

‘Blown away’ that’s what they say,
planes fly out of the sky.
the ‘Cocaine Kid’ hangs around ‘Speakers’ corner’,
dealing his deals,
selling ancient recipes that en-trance and fade,
‘Blown away’ like the dusty white-lines-sniffed,
Snuffed, out like a light,
flying on planes out of the sky.

Forget the past, forget the past,
click your heels three times,
forget the nightmare-in-reality.

‘Children for sale’ selling their wares,
delicate and beautiful as bone china,
sitting pretty, talking cheap
hardly out of nappies,
adults in children’s bodies,
seduce with skeletons that would break,
with their innocent faces,
tainted by a different world
abused by the society that’s supposed to protect them

Voice 1
On a mission in earnest- a child
drags his spoke-less chariot through the estate
a wheel left from gone-by days,
dons his Roman regalia, ready to do
battle, with his imagination of warriors.
One-by-one he slays them, David and Goliath-
goes to school, ready for his diet,
of English, Maths and Science.

Voice 2
Give me air, give me space,
restricted by each other’s face,
get off my back, get off my case.

Hold me tight, secure and safe,
comforted by each other’s face,
please come back, fill this space.

Voice 3
A life of luxury is had by some, sixty quid a week
on what they call the ‘Dole’,
‘tarted’ up people with nowhere to go
plead with agencies that’s supposed to assist them.
sunken faces, emaciated frames,
trying to survive in this land of free.

Another win, somebody’s dream came of
nowhere, a piece of paper to destiny,
happy faces beam, excitement, content.

Voice 4
Standing at the bus-stop
Waiting for the six ‘0’ seven
To take us on that Magical mystery tour
Caribbean islands whizz past,
With coconut cocktails, grass skirts,
Palm trees, emerald blue seas.
The tour STOPS! As we take up the nine-to-five-five-days-a-week,
In our respective place.

Voice 5
What have you done today you
Many voices?

So, this is life! So, this is life?
Generations treading, treading to leave
Their mark in hidden cells, discovered, sanded
Footprints washed with time.
You voices upon this global stage,
Acting out each pocket of drama,
Destined or pre-destined,
What happened in your play?

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