Out -There Lane Poem by Catherine Casey

Out -There Lane where fires heat
Tarpaulin black in retching choke.
‘Three piece sofa? Chuck it int’ street!
Ferrel’l claim then turn to smoke’.


Privet leaves - the favourite choice,
To send the cave man’s signal stink.
Beware the class thought lost but now, -
Daubs the sky as Dicken’s ink.


Twenty mile per hour signs?
No challenge to unthinking brains.
A speed bump marks the starting line.
Their aspiration's found in drains.


Almost touching seventy
The word 'Civil' was never known.
To scare the kids and animals
Menacing roar that shakes the bone.


And there lived Mr Charming.
Bare-chested - yelling at his wife.
Remote and bottle in each hand.
Summer exposing Out -There's life.


When England played the World cup,
Mr Charming's ironing board,
Launched through living room window,
In blinds that froze it where it soared.


Now is it that the Council
Have relocated all the chavs?
And is this street example of
Avoidance input for Sat-Navs?