Fireworks

 “Penny for the guy?”

Echoes from every street corner;

Where kids hope to make enough change

For a dodgy roll up from their brother.

The chill air carries the faint smell

Of stewing meat and molten sugar.

Boys jeer and drink cheap cider,

As the girls giggle around a cone of cold chips.

This years local celebrity plays host

Over the outdated sound system-

The din drowned out by police sirens,

Not on our estate for a change.

When the first rocket soars the atmosphere is changed,

The children stand in awe,

The once beautiful mums cracking a smile

At the cheesy ballad from their prime.

For once the air really is filled with the sound of fireworks,

Even the lads and dads fall silent.

The smoky air not caused from fags

And no lingering funny musk scent left behind.

It’s not necessarily the setting; Hollywood is miles away.

But when you live in a city of sin, you can’t help thinking-

If God created the stars,

This is the closest we will ever get to Heaven.

Say My Name

Say my name.

Let every syllable roll off of your tongue so slowly

That my ears are shocked when they realise,

The word fat did not follow.

Say my name,

So loud, so often that I no longer tense-

Expecting it to be punctuated

By the thud of a fist hitting a wall.

Say my name.

Sing it so melodically that it is impossible

To feel insignificant,

Whenever I hear it spoken again.

Say my name,

close to my face; so close

that my nostrils no longer burn with the scent of whisky,

just by association anymore.

Say my name,

So gently as we lie together,

That my ears no longer strain to find

The tone of manipulation, they are so used to.

Say my name.

Say my name.

Say my name.

Because when you say it,

It’s my favourite sound.