Three quotes.
Looking from the window above
It's like a story of love
Can you hear me?
Yazoo
Only you
1982
And you know
There's no such thing as society
Margaret Thatcher
1987
I'm lonely here
There are no poets here
Oh yes
One or two
There's always one or two
But mostly only makers of money
Arnold Wesker
Beutels Hill
A play for Basildon
1989
2024
Act
A poem for Basildon
We were
The great
Experiment
The babies born wild
Into this new Jerusalem
Our blameless
* up parents
Dragged onto fast track conveyor belts
Delivering us all screaming
In bloodied ragged beauty
Our birthmarks exposed
The town planners
In celebratory shock
Coughed bile from cheap
Tipped cigarette fumes
Got pissed blind on tepid
Watney's Party 7
While snapping
Harold Wilson's pipe
And singing World Cup Willie
Here was their fortune
Here was our future made
This was Basildon
A strange loved form
My curfuturist
Essex Delta dream
Paved with pearly lined
Brutalist estates
And never ending pursuits
Of green shield stamps
Our east ended mums and dads
Arriving on promises
Of indoor toilets and
Hope of working hard
In the new factories
Shopping centres
And breeze block building sites
Forever gazing back
At the beloved estuary
Out of time now
And out of reach
For now
There were new names
For them to conjure
Craylans
Pitsy
Alcatraz
In pushchairs
We were trundled along
As if prizes
In a town centre parade
The shops
The fountain
Sharp light
Dull talk
Cold hot fog
A clock
Like a billiard ball
Ticking as if chance
Was running slow
And out already
Compressing the wins
The losses
We'd have rubber sandwiches
In cafes
That played chirpy cheap
Beautiful pop music
In the aisles of Tesco's
Timothy White's
And the cut price
Mince merchants
Of the shouting market
We'd always be
Hanging out









Looking and listening
For our early notes
At school
We coloured in castles
Staged wars
In the playgrounds
Failed at kiss chase
Sometimes we'd go to the seaside
Cockles
Mussels
And cut glass
On the shore
We never saw a black girl
Or boy
Except Cassius Clay
Or Diana Ross
On the telly
When two arrived
In the classroom
We played with them
As if they were dolls
They never came
To play







To our birthday parties
We'd never see them
On a Saturday morning
Confused to the reasons
We made inquiries
Got clipped ears
When asking for more
Elsewhere
On the other side
Beyond the refinery
In the garden parties
Of a confident
Older England
Mick Jagger sang
Of untidy
Kentish wives
With nineteen
Nervous breakdowns
And clutched
Blister packs
Of mothers
Little helpers
And in Liverpool
Another estuary
The Beatles
Swooned triumphantly
Of love
And a diamond
In crusty Lucy
And her murmuration
Into a Mersey
Dockland sky
Here
In this Basildon
We could not even
Hold a tune
Not yet
Not for a while
The train
Stopped in our town
In nineteen
Seventy-four
Our new
Station
Was at







Cape Canaveral
Tickets
To London
A journey
To Mars
Or Jupiter
Petticoat Lane
Or Upton Park
In nineteen
Seventy-six
The roads
Melted
We wrote
Our names
In the tarmac
Squinted
In sweat
As we learned
Wood
And metal
How to bake
A cake
Stitch
And sew
Into our
New tomorrows
In Raquel's
Discotheque
Dancing
To Travolta
A girl
Got pregnant
Then
The holidays
To Benidorm
The bullfighting
Posters
On our walls
A ballet
Of death
We were happy
In parts
Our town
Immune
And tranquilised
A glass
Concrete
Piece
On the
Telly
Again
Young men
With bad teeth
Told a goading
Presenter
To * off
Questions
In the House
Of Commons
About bringing
In our houses
We went
To our bedrooms
John Pill
And anarchy
Giving us
Enough rope
To become
NF
Soul boys
Or punks
Creation
Quickening
Inside of us
Finally
The song
To sing
Then came
Where there
Is discord
May we
Bring harmony
The chrysalis
Cracked
Outside
Of here
There was
A wall
Unemployment
Strikes
And riots
But they loved her
In Basildon
Her trick
Was to divide
And rule
Buy your home
Be better
Than your neighbour
Our parents
Became
Competitive
And mean
A hurricane
Blew hate
In our houses
Down
We acted
In plays
Formed bands
In our kitchens
Brought keyboards
From toy shops
We signed
On the dole
Wore long
Coats
Ate beans
On toast
In front of
Top of the pops
As one of
Their own
Gazed from
The screen
If they can
Do this
Then why
Can't we
The town
Began to
Fold in
A plastic
Barclay carded
Royal flushed
Busted
In debt
In the shops
Satellite TV
And laminated
Flooring
Us
The artists
Were viewed
With suspicion
A luxury
Carpet
Only we
Rolled in
No one
Invited us
To our theatre
Our library
A place
In the world
Other pop
Stars
Came here
The kids
Waiting twice
Around the block
Singing their hits
We got drunk
On disappointment
In the pubs
Ecstasy
Came
And a young
Girl died
Of thirst
Our own
Top of the pops
Band
Became
The biggest
In the world
They never
Spoke to us
Some of us
Left for
London
Some
Headed
North
South
And west
Some
Put down
Their pens
And synthesizers
They gave
Up their
Good
Disappointment
Is the greatest
Heartbreak
Of all
A few
Fault
A resistance
Against the
Power of
Disinterest
A puppeteer
Here
A poet
There
These were the
Troubadours
That time
Forgot
But time
Doesn't care
About their
Feelings
Basildon
The future
Has faded
Like a record
The needle
Popping
And jumping
As if a
Message
The tribute
Bands
Rule
The shops
Boarded up
Heads
Are down
But our
Story
Is still

Artists
Of Basildon
It's innate
To create
No one
Is going
To gift
You
So gift
Yourself
Take your
Purpose
Proud
Fight for
It with
Absolute
Love
Act now
Not tomorrow
We
The ones
Who came
Before
Demand
This
We
Lived
In this
Town
And perhaps
Still do
So paint
Sing
Write
Dance
Bang that
Drum
In the
Estates
The Streets
The pubs
And shops
Take clay
Mould it
With truth
Bake it
Hard
Until
Unbreakable
Cement
A future
New
Deliver
That screaming
Bloodied
Ragged
Beauty
Hand it
On
Reach out
And touch
Faith