#44 CAN'T GO NO FURTHER (RUN OUT OF LAND) unlike the morality of famine and war
unlike bigger issues that affect human law these could be matters of little significance
or observations maybe, that ain’t that obvious despite all the public sparkle and glare everything at home isn’t in fact that sunny the ladder’s the only marketplace where you’re meant to feel lucky gettin’ less for your money space standards at sea, inflated prices the crutch half size flats were providin’
compared to, let’s say, the dutch
45 metres square
plays against 95 providing the black-drop to living our lives no more sensible ceilings
just white walled, cleaned up, and confined feelings
a closet you can only get a few shirts in
never mind a cat, maybe a rat you could swing
to get into bed there’ll be but nothing
‘cept trip hazards, discomfort, brushed walls, and bruised shins the view out the window - the back of someone’s wall
don't know how the hell you’re meant to make sense of it all when your rooms are smaller, than your entrance hall obsessed with the outside, and giving impressions
the smoke and mirror, unfurnished illusions
from the failures of the Should-Know-Better’s coercion via the stage set frontages in the clearings of manchester to the north eastern lego playing of a fashion designer in private or social it makes not a difference
whatever happened to parker and morris? conveniently forgotten for being too honest? too outdated a case
a guardian now justified as out of place
for the prerequisite haggling of negotiations
the sanctity of shareholder over public pre-preoccupations so many middle men
everything’s got a fee
bogged down in this clay bound nationwide mediocrity it’s just as well, back then, when under attack our built infrastructure remained largely intact despite the indiscrimination of falling bombs survived art deco to victorian
elizabethan to georgian
and from houses to factories
were details and delicacies
a generous spirit and well crafted care
no longer afforded
now sadly derided
as the overblown indulgences of yesteryear so with the builders in charge what are they gonna build except the glorified warehouses they’re all trying to guild
and flagships, the hardships of starter homes those thousands of 1/2 bed domestic zones every british town wants their jim’ll fix it fame
with their marie celeste streets and their urban pain a blob, a block, or a cantilever
a sideways swipe of another neat cleaver
a dividing line of a hidden town planner
phoenixes of hope rising from the ashes?
or the quick fix promise of supposed social spanners our lifeboat stations remain unmanned
missing it’s volunteers and the charitable donation fund so is it any wonder, any wonder at all
that there are such things as DECENT HOMES billboards proudly advertised all over this town
and that in most council blocks
there’s renovation programmes
in this 21st century’s green and pleasant land