Pig Bladders

We played on all weather turf which was mud and a few sods of grass Dribbled like Pele and Eusebio in old boot for that one killer pass From straight after school until there was not one single more ray of light So winter was best with rain hail and frost to young street kid’s delight Wore grazes and bruises with passionate bounce and knew no bounds The football was made from real leather with proper stitch and suture We made goal posts from clothes simply played with no fear for the future Top bar was imagined so sometimes we argued but had no video assistance I was small as a goalie but learnt resilience losing single minded persistence Surely we were cheeky and mischievous but did not cheat in defeat Imagination grew large from a parallel Universe staked out on the ground We won penalty shoot outs and World Cups and glorious trophies abound First prize were liquorice and chocolate which we shared like good folk On prosperous days my Mom had awarded a couple of bottles of coke Thirst for knowledge came later but with solid foundations we found solid ground Nostalgia makes me believe the World was better without fancy equipment We had balls courage insurmountable energy and unequivocal commitment Today some youngster play on garbage dumps heaped high with plastic bags Knotted into round globes in colonized countries and live in squalid shacks The planet seems flat covered in inequality skewed and properly screwed Nowadays FIFA has more member countries than the mask of the United Nations But the haves of global technology reap money not vision on play stations Dressed in designer sports fabric oozing wealth greed and ravenous avarice Score high scores at the point of destruction which is deceptively glamourous For the upcoming G20 I suggest that leaders be given red cards and be barred The avid reader will note that this poem ends with no formal structure or rhyme Human conscience and conscious abdication of duty sits unwell with alliteration Rhythm would allude to the distortion that everything might be in perfect order If fewer politicians studied at Eton or Harvard not so many would end in trenches Of legalized wars or crimes against humanity and I would be captain of the team Football and power games were played with blemishes but compassionate hearts The story ends without bare cleats as opium for the masses as pig bladders rule Whereas corrupt pigs simply can’t fly unless we send them to Guantanamo Bay 08th June 2019