The flats, the units, the granny huts.
Will be too small – meant for mutts.
Portable housing, live in a loo,
Something I hope, no one will do.
The words cloud over and mask it all,
Preserving the truth, within a great wall.
The idea is good and worthy beside,
Just bend the stats from due dilligent pride.
Spare the rod and spoil the child,
Something I heard, each frigen mile.
And thats why I was raised – from a leather behind.
Another thing Im glad we now mind.
I realised when at the age of five,
My teachers stilletos turned my mouth into a hive.
‘Bloody shit’ I exclaimed as the point dug in,
The back of the hand took the full weight of her grin.
Pinned to the deck likes a jesuses hand,
let loose an expletive – like anyone can.
So up to the principle – bend over you can,
Let rip with the leather – a leg swollen man.
And as you walk back into the class,
Seeing the faces smile at your ass.
pleased as punch that their bottoms intact,
avoiding that episode of female attack.
It was never the men, who commanded the violence.
They just acted and appologied in reverance.
If a women askes and has a right,
To punch that child although in mid flight.
Push them down and hold them under,
Threaten their lives, with plight and blunder.
Give up on your neighbours.