Tuesday, 10 May 2011

Tere chashm-e-nam- a poem

Tere chashm-e-nam

Your wet eyes
are not the monsoonal windows
Of your green Urdu soul under gray English skies
Rather they are evidence of Rising Damp
Regarding which
This is my letter to the Council
Supporting your application
For re-housing.

Reminding them of your little boy with asthma
And  your 12 year old daughter who couldn't invite for a sleep-over
Her friends from School because the wall paper in her bedroom is peeling off
And there's this smell
Which brings me to the great pile of shite you married
Whom, I know, I promised not to mention
But, seriously, are you're really telling me he's now signed off work?
The fucker is ten years younger than me!
Rheumatoid fucking arthritis?
Are you shitting me?
You worked the Night Shift four years stacking shelves
To get him a visa?
The work-shy cunt!

Fuck, yeah, your rising damp
Sure is a scandal
The Council should take action.
Not that they'll do anything
Unless you're Nigerian
Or Lesbian
Or something.
Personally, I blame David Cameron
That boy aint right.

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