Death By Social Housing (Poetry)

Don’t think of it as sanctuary —
don’t dream it is a home
the reality is purgatory —
a social no-go zone

Don’t think, as tenant, you have rights —
forget about your plans —
that modest life you thought you had
now rests in jobsworth hands

They’ll come and rip your windows out
just when they think they will
with no concern for fragile souls —
the elderly — the ill

who yearn for peace and take their pills —
block out the neighbours’ roar
live wondering from day to day
if they can take much more ...

While in their sterile offices
grey-suited bodies sit
and manage assets — uninvolved
accounting brick by brick

to boost the value on the page
and balance income out
so keep the charitable tag
ghost-profits left in doubt

Replacement kitchens, bathrooms, doors —
the budget’s set to use
the product’s cheap but in the scheme
what right have Plebs to choose?

So spend, spend, spend despite the fact
that often there’s no need
but other factors are in play
that clearly supersede

consideration and respect —
forget it — no one cares! —
you’re in the social housing pit
no god can hear your prayers

Too bad you’re sick, too bad you’re old
best put up and endure
the Lottery one fading hope
and Death the final cure