Contributor: P.A.Levy
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the great outdoors isn’t that great if the outdoors is a council estate a bomb city with some of its glass panes still intact where grey scratches on the grey landscape to form into rectangular outlines of washing machines left to get a rinse in the dirty acid rot not trip rain and under an orange glow of city echoes fridges are left out freezing their nuts off in the cold as creeping rust begins to accumulate and spread across the incinerated carcasses of exhausted cars whose final act of exploding into flames provided entertainment for several minutes of wild jubilation as if worshipping some heathen god to free the world of boredom and the bass and drum of drum&bass mashed with dubstep follows you like radar trace orchestrates skank in yer gait shuffling in the shadow of a high rise where the junkies crash on the top floor getting as close to heaven as they dare YOU DON’T GO ON THE TOP FLOOR in fact don’t go near the underground car park either STAY IN THE OPEN STAY IN THE LIGHT but don’t take that as a metaphor for god ‘cos it ain’t it’s survival tagged on the shuttered shops of the cctv parade like a holy scripture for an underclass but then being as low as that the only way is up lifts are smashed plod each stair until yer muscles ache too far to turn back now straight up darkside with the top floor about to greet you
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Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk, P.A.Levy has been published in many magazines, both on line and in print, from ‘A cappella Zoo’ to ‘Zygote In My Coffee’. He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective.
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the great outdoors isn’t that great if the outdoors is a council estate a bomb city with some of its glass panes still intact where grey scratches on the grey landscape to form into rectangular outlines of washing machines left to get a rinse in the dirty acid rot not trip rain and under an orange glow of city echoes fridges are left out freezing their nuts off in the cold as creeping rust begins to accumulate and spread across the incinerated carcasses of exhausted cars whose final act of exploding into flames provided entertainment for several minutes of wild jubilation as if worshipping some heathen god to free the world of boredom and the bass and drum of drum&bass mashed with dubstep follows you like radar trace orchestrates skank in yer gait shuffling in the shadow of a high rise where the junkies crash on the top floor getting as close to heaven as they dare YOU DON’T GO ON THE TOP FLOOR in fact don’t go near the underground car park either STAY IN THE OPEN STAY IN THE LIGHT but don’t take that as a metaphor for god ‘cos it ain’t it’s survival tagged on the shuttered shops of the cctv parade like a holy scripture for an underclass but then being as low as that the only way is up lifts are smashed plod each stair until yer muscles ache too far to turn back now straight up darkside with the top floor about to greet you
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Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk, P.A.Levy has been published in many magazines, both on line and in print, from ‘A cappella Zoo’ to ‘Zygote In My Coffee’. He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective.
Author:
P.A.Levy
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