top of page
Stuart Robertson - Photographer
Get clean
Walk down the road
With your hair like a crow’s nest
Ragged kneed trousers
Boots creaking in protest
A fraction corrupted
Can anything truly be trusted?
Left living in squalor
No one else seems that bothered
Gathering dust
Accumulate clutter
Rubbish is rubbish
So they keep telling us
It’s an issue of quality
Some things fall apart far too easily
A life time of uselessness
Spanning well beyond lunch breaks
Only guess at the merits
Of a life simply Spartan
With sterile white walls
And a lack of soft furnishings
Need a small smear of grime
A comfortable spot in which to contemplate
Next to Godliness
Met anyone who has faith in that?
Moral decay isn’t the problem
Raising a stench that touches high heaven
A hygiene issue as your friends will be telling you

bottom of page