Booze and Betting Shops: Part 2
So, I pushed the blue doors open and stepped into their world
The smell of old booze and sour was entrenched
It hung in the room like a carcass in a butchers window
The air; one of bitterness and fatigue
And now, their eyes were truly tranced
Flickering between the boxes above
Following the traveling lights, the space age sounds
I bled tears for them; for they must reminisce
They must remember when this land was theirs
Had some of these hands sculpted and moulded?
Had they mended railways?
Had they built cars, bridges or houses?
Had they carried and raised infants?
They were now brittle on walking sticks
They trembled as they twirled coins into gleaming machines with foreign names
Words ventured, but with distracted attention
Each holding their own conversation, in between blasphemes
Willing their Gods
Just one win... one last big win
Let this be the day you reveal your omnipotent presence, they demanded
They would give praise
Worship more frequently
Be more charitable
Be human again once they have their return, they promised
But two, forlorn, looked as if praying not for fortune but for some sort of reprieve
From the devil that lived in their sleeves
And the ching of the coin that would always brings them to their knees
Booze & Betting Shops: Part 2: 1st Edit
I walked into a betting shop the other day...