I snorted a line of poetry, it felt good.

Knowing it’s illegal felt even better.

Well, not illegal but misunderstood,

Like an inkpen, like a handwritten letter.

The cops raided my writer’s meet,

Piled like savages into the coffee shop,

Their wild-eyed fury kind of sweet,

A textbook game of good cop/wistful cop.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

What I believe in, my values, my schtick.

Might need a priest hole under my floor,

The persecution in the air’s so thick.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore, compadres, I’m on a list.

I could tear my trousers like David Banner,

But the new world would resist.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

Leave us to be disillusioned in peace.

We can drink wine and complain

about the weather,

Argue about the best songs from Grease.

I inhaled a Shakespeare sonnet, what a buzz.

Knowing the kids would yawn buzzed bigger.

It’s funny feeling the thing Will does,

Defining the truth of us, sketching our figure.

The council stopped my poetry reading,

I was on a street, you see, without a permit,

They don’t like old boys like me succeeding,

Not in public, but okay as a hermit.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

You mustn’t carry me or intend to supply.

Might need one of those cameras on my door,

Next time the fashion police swing by.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore it isn’t, I’m condemned.

I appear to represent a significant spanner

In their plan, which we’ll hear in the end.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

Leave us alone in our room to be proved right.

Let us slag off the forecasters and

predict the weather,

And reminisce about TV on Saturday night.

Times change, that’s okay, but we should

not need to,

Not if we don’t want to, who’s to say we must?

Deconstructing ourselves wasn’t something

we agreed to,

You’ll respect us more for it, once we’re dust.

I injected a gram of Ulysses, could’ve been

coke.

Knowing coke’s much cooler was the hit.

They recommended cannabis but I don’t

smoke.

Joyce don’t make me cough like that other shit.

Health and safety paid me a door knock,

Wanted an inventory of my library books,

Seized two Brontes and a first edition

Brighton Rock.

A crack den next door and we’re the crooks.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

I’m mainlining literature, they don’t approve.

For neighbourhood bookworms who

want to score,

My place is basically the Louvre.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore, ladies, I’m cancelled, closed.

Exceeding my literary limit I set off

their scanner,

They came for me while I dozed.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

We’ll read our books out on the fire escape,

At heights unwuthering, the harebells

and the heather

Can be our secrets, while the others vape.