Bradford Middleton


As the minds start to stir a

Dollop of madness into their

Mixes the lock-down drags

On leaving some with

No recourse but to disconnect

And let go for there is nothing

Else worth doing.

The library in town is shut

Whilst my own catalogue is

Being read with a gusto that

Suggests i wont have much

Left for my planned old-age

And then the horror of no

Pubs being open. 


It’s been the three longest

Weeks of my life until now

Since i last walked in and

If it weren’t for this here

Writing i’d surely have been

Dragged off by now by a

Mental health nurse.

The other night i was sat

Here, because quite frankly

What else is there to do,

Nursing a beer and some words

When the downstairs flat

Came alive with a voice

Booming out song after song.

Childhood memories of hating

The pop music of my adolescence

Came to haunt me as first she

Tortured me with some heavenly

Delight courtesy of a former

Go-go and all i wanted was to

Either hide, remain silent, or

Put down this laptop, climb from

My chair, pull Damaged off my

Records shelf and blast it until

She learnt not to confuse me with

One of those losers she used

To hang with during her school

Days as i think we’re about the same age.

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