I realise that I am probably about to expose myself, but just in case this cheers one other member up a little bit as it did me, here goes.
For context, Moston is a seedy suburb of north Manchester, even seedier than the seedy suburb in which I reside. Harpurhey is the seediest bit of Moston.
I lifted it from a local neighbourhood webpage. I am not putting it forward for a poetry prize, but I did enjoy the sentiment; both for the act and the desire to publish.
THE ANGEL OF MOSTON
Made my way through Moston
On a scooter,shiny,new
Through Asda bags
And dog end fags
I did'nt mind the view
On a mission for some old tech
Someone wants
To give away
I put my trust in Google maps
And lived to rue the day!
The Robot voice directed me
Though she was playing games
She sent me round in circles
Where the streets have
Got no names
The torture it was most
Complete
She knew how to
Ruin a man
Round and round
These nameless streets
And I'm not a
U 2 fan
Well,my Scooter had
A nice full charge
So I was full of smiles
That meant 15 kilometers
Which must be a
Good few miles
Passing by some little Kids
I gave the horn a toot
Then slipped down
A massive pothole
Like I were driving in
Beirut!
The roads were cracked
And dangerous
It was hard
To stay aboard
It was nice
Out in the sunshine
So I headed
On toward
Now, I could not find
St Mary's road
I could hear me
Brain cells pop
And just to make it
Interesting
The bloody Scooter
Stopped!
While I struggled
For my bearings
Two hours had
Gone by
I had to push the
Scooter
All bent in pain
Was I
The kindnes of strangers
Is a great thing
Though it's quite rare
It seems
As motorists came
And passed me by
Leaving me to
My own scemes
Osteoartritis punished me
I was lost and losing faith
When a car pulled up
Beside me
A voice said
You ok mate?
This kind young man
Who knew me not
Took time out
From his day
Drove me to
My destination
And then home
To Harpurhey
I love to see the
New born spring
With all the cold
And frost gone
And so now then
I write this for Ben
AKA.....
The Angel of Moston
