It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.


Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.


Re: social poem

page: 1

log in


posted on Mar, 2 2009 @ 10:13 AM
We shop on the high street like herded cattle to a barn, chasing our material consumer gain, anger rage jealously erupt inside as you miss out an item, gadget clothing or whatever it may be. Whether it be in the store and witnessing someone buy the last one or get there first, or be it at school or work someone gets the NEW in thing before you and we begin the anger rage jealousy thing again but this time followed by self-loathing, and this feeling will last for a good few hours.

Walking home we almost sulking about that bastard who got there first, skulking I wish I had it, got it first, stupid its unfair you think to yourself as you step over the young homeless girl, half starved begging for your spare change.

Spare change..... There’s not even a spare thought for her did you even hear her over your ego, what about the next human being almost helpless you will pass again without doubt.
Because that oh so important expensive unnecessary item that bastard got before is momentarily your life. Walking oblivious you trip and stub your toes on the paving and your new shoes are scuffed great pain and wrecked loathers you step out into the road and nearly get yourself killed, not to close of a call but one to shock you but not strong enough to get that bloody item and bastard out of your head.

Getting closer to home now you stop impatiently at the lights toe thumping and head still sulking, but, a bus goes by with a lingerie advert on the side damn fine model on the side you smile to yourself not so angry now could do with her company, a marauding though as you cross the road into a freezing bitter wind that came from nowhere, its freezing your scream to yourself you, so you hurry yourself thinking “got to get home, its warm” (who would blame ya) .

You turn the corner and finally home is insight, but the bloody lift is out of order, think about the 8 flights of stairs your sorry self has to climb a mountainous struggle, thinking of reality TV, those DVDs, that games console, and the ache that now lives in your legs moved in from the stairs, but you get there and stumble out of breath to your door, can’t find the keys checking everywhere you finally find them as usual in the last place you check, key in the door and finally! Home!

Coat off hat and gloves too put the kettle on make a tea or grab a beer and collapse in a heap in your favourite chair exhausted, thinking about the nightmare time coming home; that lingerie models was a bit of alright, and I nearly got killed what was that driver thinking off how’d he get a licence and that bloody wind it was freezing, so you turn the TV on as you rub your throbbing toes cursing that crappy council paving and then bang there you have a TV advert for the item your lusting after upset and annoyed by it but you will still buy the unnecessary thing regardless.

Back now skulking you find something to eat, waste the night watching REALITY TV before passing out before awakening to another restarting mundane day.

Reality TV, insignificant prats in a house but you’ll remember it so you can talk about it at work tomorrow with your mates. A new day.

But you fail to see a true reality; people out of a house, begging for spare change, the ones you stepped over the ones you forgot before you got home the ones you still forget, the ones with a sky for a roof, the ones who freeze the ones who starve!

Any spare change mate.........?
Well there’s a thought.

new topics

log in