The Instore Cleaner

He is silent,
Whilst he mops,
I don't know his name,
But I expect it's something like Alek or maybe even Viktor,

He's always there,
But I sometimes wonder...
Would people notice if he wasn't there?
For he is one more of societys unwanted but necessary cogs,

Today I said more than a few words to him,
He said 'rent kills',
I sympathized,
He scuttled off with a dustpan and brush,

Tomorrow I will ask him for his name,
And maybe shake his hand.

I'm Better Than This

I'm better than the early morning starts and late nights.
But I feel like an inferior doll that has been chucked into the factory seconds bin,

I'm better than the smile I force myself to wear,
And I'm better than the benign gobble I have to spout when someone asks me where the fucking Oxo cubes are,

Then they put me back under their shoe.

Social Realism

It's the home of the gyro fiends,
To single mums with their broken dreams.

The streets here are full of under scania travellers and ethnic grocery shops.
It's all grey cinder block, closed down shops and peelin' paint round ere',

The council pump money into contemporary statues and luxury apartment buildings,

But you can't take the shit out of the hole,
Or even the hole out of the shit.

www.myspace.com/poetrybytom

This is Tom's myspace, if you would like to contact him or find out more about Tom Holmes