Bonfire night beneath the stars

It’s Bonfire night tonight and I have written a poem. It follows on from this post I published earlier about homelessness in Shoreditch.

Bonfire night beneath the stars

Penny for the guy,

and the girl,

in the sleeping bag

on the doorstep

of a shop that made

£67.4 million pounds profit,

after avoiding tax,

in the financial year


ensuring the closure

of libraries, hostels and A&E units,

in the financial year



Hold the shivering to account,

as fireworks illuminate

their faces distressed,

torn, worn with memories of misfortune,

self-made in your eyes.


Approach your temple,

walk on proud,

and make sure

you don’t remember their face,

as you step over them,

to offer praise

and thanks for your blessings.


Forget that times have fallen

harder on them,

than the discomfort you feel,

walking past to preach and pray

and hear from God’s messenger

peace and justice for all.


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