Your Suburbia

your suburbia 

has timer controlled 

sprinklers to ensure

the grass stays

beautifully managed,

the perfect grass

hides a beautifully 

broken marriage,

stress is regulated  

by secret smoking habits

partaken in the garage 

 

“she keeps the Malbrough packet

hidden behind the hosepipe” 

 

you’ve got cellulite, 

push up bras,

caesarean-section scars,

four-wheel drive pushchairs,

shiny SUV cars, 

menopausal inconsistencies,

love affairs with the local ‘Brad’,

“he’s still living with Mum and Dad”,

it’s the poetic pretence 

to a black picket fence

painted white for effect

 

your suburbia,

sexually frustrated 

married couples 

portraying the 

perfect example

of copulation,

neighbourhood cook outs, 

homemade potato salads, 

one tonne burgers 

drenched in a mustard 

only Satan could stomach, 

too much beer

and too much wine 

it’s time for the drunken

‘fifty something’ 

to make a scene

 

your suburbia 

is dictated by

coffee machines

with built in clocks 

peculated, 

articulated 

acoustics

hissing!

dripping, 

culminating 

in the perfect cuppa,

a ‘Kenyan aroma’ 

wakes the father bear

from his slumber

 

shiny bright white pegs

with ties tucked into trousers

male manicures,

side partings combed over,

revenue tables,

monthly appraisals

stimulate career arousal,

pay-rise incentives?

you’ve already spent it

on your dream of catching waves 

instead of slaving for a wage 

 

your suburbia 

is quiet discussion

about current affairs,

telling stares that could

tear your kingdom apart,

it’s a gluten free rivalry 

at the school fete,

kids parties with 

a drunken clown,

parents parading their kids

science projects around

as if competing in a war,

whilst the PTA keep score

 

your suburbia 

is angel lights draped

over perfectly pruned hedges,

patriotic allegiances

hung from porches,

monologues to fill

awkward pauses,

it’s martial violence 

kept under wraps,

it’s the scraps 

left out for the Foxes

 

your suburbia

it’s your perfect house

with the perfect lawn

paper boys throwing

the news at dawn,

a lieutenants medal

proudly worn,

a dog bowl brawl

a carpool, 

it’s a prayer at night,

a bed bug bite 

a national anthem,

the stars and stripes

 

it’s a job for life

a pension saved

countless ways 

to hide the depraved, 

it’s a child lover 

locked in the cellar,

it’s rape, 

it’s you

continuing to fake,

the husband

the parent 

and  

the model citizen

 

your suburbia

is a sinister vision

of perfection 

poisoned by perversion,

it’s a crafted distraction

to obscure a child 

bound and broken,

it’s walking the highwire

with no safety line

it’s a charade

that could come 

crashing down

at any given time