Faux Town (Poetry)

There’s a hundred towns like our one —
all variations on a theme
bloated beyond recognition
red-brick ugly and obscene
chock-full of strangers cluttering
the glut of street cafés
displacing fond reminders
of those old-town yesterdays

they’ve flattened telltale landmarks
carved a clumsy bypass through
built a soulless money-making mall
to flog their conscience to
with not a greedy palm ungreased
the church found in cahoots
there’s no respect and no one cares
for simple, honest roots.

Those who’ve lived here all their lives
watch helpless — dispossessed
of every touchstone swept away
by planners so obsessed
with profit and false values
they can’t see the crying shame
of ripping out still-beating hearts
’til all towns look the same.