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THE HEART OF THE CITY
1. The Pace of Life
where predatory consumers
hustle and bustle seven days a week
spend-spend-spending
until the plastic runs out
Union Street, manners have gone from you
as folk fly past
too busy to be anything other than busy
as folk fly past
flying fast – mobile-handed chatting to thin-air
chatting without a care who is listening
designer-labelled faded out kids
be-denimed revenants from the worst of the seventies
the Old disguised as the New
"In my day, kids opened doors for an old lady!"
"I remember when pop music was tuneful, nae jist a racket!"
not now – nobody's bothered these days
too busy being busy
to worry about being worried
no time for knowing what time it is
Union Street, I have walked your length for many years
seen many changes wear and tear
shops and cinemas all have gone
what has our local council done?
closed down shops – for sale, for lease
short-term lease shops selling cheese
piss-reeking doorways
vomit-speckled doorways
you split into fourways
at Union Terrace
Burns and Wallace
stand like icons
pointing in separate directions
"Fit wye tae Hivven , mate?"
"I dinna ken!"
2. Seeking Oblivion?
Union Bridge:
the home to a cloud of a million starlings
cracks under the strain
providing a springboard to Oblivion
with a brace of black cats standing to attention
for those wanting an easy way out
street people signal to one
another across you
shouting – seemingly drugged or drunk
folk just working hard and living sober
though thats a hard lie to live up to
beneath your concrete belly – clubbers live it up
taking designer drugs and branded beers
roads are built to allay city gridlock
that lead to nowhere
providing a passage to Oblivion
3. Union Street
union of ancient and modern
Macdonalds and St Nicholas Churchyard
stare each other out from opposite sides
past Bakers – Safeways – HMV –
Gap for kids with methadone teeth
Gap for adults to spend-spend-spend
corporate conglomerates – when will it end
the citys heart is being transplanted
is homogeniety what we wanted
every pub and cafes the same
everywhere the names the same
pubs become churches – churches become pubs
underground vaults turn into nightclubs
the city's heart beats – still alive –
alive with lives which grow and thrive
alive with good folk playing their part
walk arterial paths to
your concrete heart
Mark Pithie
[To view the image in more detail, please click on its thumbnail.]
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