An Official Dig At An Unofficial Junkie Poem by Neil Solan

The door is ajar,
What's inside though?
I don't know,
He certainly doesn't know
And the law hasn't got a clue.
There is no light
To help decide.
There's an awkwardness to his swagger;
A strand of joy
Hangs from his teeth,
While the ferment doesn't off put him.
This usually so energetic street cat
Is suddenly all lethargic
While the streetwise junkie
Is shopping for food, pah.
PARADOX
His legion off the coast of Banbury Lane
Are sunbathing in prosperity.
He sleeps in a dump
Surrounded by gold.
PARADOX
The young servant doesn't know either;
He needs to know
He has to know!
PARADOX
Just one propersition
And he'll be down for good.
The streets are murky,
The home is dreary,
The friends are sombre,
The life is gloomy,
His life is non-existent
Yet from the outside
It's shining,
It's radiant,
It's lustrow,
It's shimmering,
It's dazzling,
It's inconsistent,
It's inconsistent,
Inconsistent;
PARADOX.