Bricks is by Danny Moran
Here is the first entry in a very occasional series we're calling 'Poetry Corner' (took us awhile to think of that). Below is a poem by Mancunian writer and literary-politico Danny Moran. He's also good for racing tips. Take it away Dan...
by Danny Moran
Oh, how my heart now sings for bricks
As once I thought that steel and glass
Would make me feel like I belonged
When my tomorrows found a song.
I walk the city streets today
And wonder at the sight of it
Those cranes that beckon in the sky
Are asking me to take a lie.
They want to sell me silver foil
But I've seen behind the shine,
Those riverside apartment blocks
All look to me like gates and locks.
They're piggy banks for those that go
Where corporation money swills
They stand around like cheap utensils
Copied up from stupid stencils.
Bricks are honest, straight and true
They square the city with the past
And lend a building purpose, plain
Or make a pub feel right as rain.
They seemed to make the north make sense
Tied my father to the state
Gave my mother's dreams a place
And hard communities a face.
They don't require a press release
Or make you think they're full of drugs
They don't wear cheap eye shadow's hue
They don't wink when they look at you.
You'd think the architects and suits
Who let the money trickle down
Would understand the reason why
Such things that work reward the eye.
And see the citadels and towers
Of foreign lands for what they are
And know it's nothing but a crime
To pray in other peoples' shrines.
So clean the mills and factories
And give me council houses too
And work that isn't turning tricks
Like building homes and making bricks.
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