Mike Leigh

Mike Leigh
on TV again.
Real people with
real lives.
Devoted husbands,
unemployed,
brewing tea
for working class wives.

The air is dark,
darker, darkest,
coaxing thinner, thinnest, thick.
Undercurrents
swimming like
revelations from an
emotionless brick.
Rich in mundane complexity.
Painting simplest simplicity slick,

with connotation.
Rare to see a
privileged education,
rattling amongst the
state school accents.
Real people,
real lives.
Car crash fortunes,
Scripted accidents.

Mike Leigh
on TV
again.
Real people with
real lives.
Living for the
in your face
realism.
Peddling pain
with the blades
of blunt knives.

Real people.
Real lives.

Sarah Drury. 2021

Reality Star

Inspired by watching another reality show wannabe thinking she’s Marilyn Monroe!

Reality Star

Who even are you?
Disgracing my TV screen
Flashing your tits
Infill lips
Botox on the bits
that might betray
an emotion
And we are supposed
to swallow the notion
that
YOU ARE REAL?

What sort of reality
do you live in?
It isn’t the same
as my head fucked game
Your hands as smooth
as the sniff of lazy
My hands scrubbing
the shit off my crazy
kid’s shoes
You snap a nail
Tan goes pale
Have a meltdown
And you say
YOU ARE REAL?

With your gratuitous home
Fucking around
on your iPhone
Tits out for the camera
You self proclaimed stars
are all so similar
Ego bloated
Sugar coated
God devoted
But you worship
at your own altar
and your tits are fake
but you say
YOU ARE REAL?

Have my life
for a day
Wash your own
fucking pots
Ping a microwave dinner
Clean the pissy toilet bowl
Small town, no hope, sinner
Stave off the blows
from your
delinquent kid
who won’t eat
He’s getting thinner
and the Social Services
are knocking on
my fucking door
They think they’re
onto a winner
But they can fuck off
And so can you
cos I’m telling you

I AM FUCKING REAL

©2020 Sarah Drury