suburban terrorburger

Beer guts swaying to and fro
beneath hollow caverns
reigned by soccering pub mumblings
on greased black hair and hooliganistically tattooed arms
crawling from public houses to pissing bushes
that at daylight are used as burger cans
by uniform school girls in fuck me skirts
while preferring taking that
over seventeen eastern bros of duran city rollers
that fall fat too early for their good
and churn out brattish farts rolling past in trolleys
to take place while concretely permed
formerly female monsters
seemingly in their sixth decade
although hardly thirty
go isn't that lovely and goochy goochy goo
oh dear
in screaming voices
before stopping by at outskirtish supermarkets
where unpolitical students stack shelves
with baked beans eight pence a can
to get sunny literature
for black suited business spouses
in flowered wallpaper living rooms
watching nine o'clock news with british beef and kidney pie
before sipping pints of lager at the local pub
with the lads who fuck their dusty wives
two point one times a week on average
in suburban brick walled houses
with vauxalls outside
next to off licensed seven eleven
red mailboxes per square mile
that contain first class letters to the local mp whose constituency
swings from left to right without
anyone noticing substantial
changes that are
absent while the national lottery is moving more people than the grand national where stuck
up traditionalists who claim to be eccentric when really
they are nothing but
silly cling to roya
lties and no
thing m
ore th
an sh
ow.