Dear Birmingham by Casey Bailey

Dear Birmingham,

Dear Birmingham, that doesn’t even sound right,

Yo Brum, that’s the kind of thing that would I would write.

That’s not because you’re not dear to me, or always here for me,

But I have I have heard your bark and more than once I felt your bite.

So how you keeping? Still having trouble with your sleeping?

When I think of you, I think about the long extended evenings,

Nights that turn to mornings, young brothers snatched from good mothers,

I think it’s about the nights that we spent mourning.

Think of Charlotte Ellis and Latisha Shakespeare,

Their family pain at the shame knowing that they ain’t here.

It’s crazy, how quick mom or dad can lose a baby,

Brum I love you, but at times I truly feel that you’ve betrayed me.

Brum I love you; I know I seem focused on your flaws,

But I have seen so many die claiming postcodes that are yours’.

I’ve no intention to draw attention to funerals I’ve attended,

Just to mention your malfunctions so one day they may be mended.

Sometimes I think you’re so sweet, but you use that to distract me?

Man I never thought that Cadbury would turn out to be so krafty,

Surely we could have fought whole nuts, Brum, aren’t we tough enough,

Instead we showed no nuts, and decided we should button up.

I don’t wanna sound like a complainer, or rant like a moaner,

And I realise it’s been a long time since Rover,

But the drama and the rubble since they built the last bubble,

Means this will be a long bridge for those people to get over.

Brum I love you, I know this isn’t a clear from my statements,

But as a man, you didn’t line up to my boy hood expectations,

Still if they told me to let go, I’d have to tell them No, No, No,

Like Amy offered rehabilitation.

Home of my relations, birthplace of my dreams,

Fuelling my motivation stronger than kerosene,

They call it the second city, but whenever I spend a second out the city,

I know there’s nowhere better I could be.

Proud Birmingham son; married one of his daughters,

Met her in Kings Norton, bought the ring in Jewellery Quarter,

Now I use her life an anchor, my connection to Brum,

Like the anchor hallmark that there pressing in Brum.

Home of the innovators, focused on solutions,

Like Mathew Bolton leading industrial revolutions.

It’s easy to have a vision, anybody can dream,

It’s different to reach goals, burn coal, make steam,

You ain’t seen Brum, if you ain’t seen the tower blocks,

And tried to define where the clouds start and the towers stop.

You ain’t heard Brum, unless you’re heard the local rave music,

And seen the crazy brummies’ that are slaves to it.

Arcadian lit up the arcade treat,

Where the shots are on offer, high heels on feet,

Late teens and somethings heading to Broad Street,

Before you know it you’ll be forty, sipping red, red, red wine in Kings Heath.

Brum’s the home of the canals where I write poetry and think,

The waters still the only thing flouting is the ink.

I think of the horses pulling boats,

And know that Brums engraved upon my soul,

Like the walls holding scars of old ropes.

They’ll kill my love of Brum, So if my passion is their target,

Tell them bring a ring of bulls; I bet you still couldn’t mark it.

Like the shadow of the council house mountain, or the fountain lying under,

Brum I promise I will stay around like the Rotunda.

I don’t need ten letters; you know that ain’t me,

You know I spell Birmingham, H-O-M-E.

So wherever I may be I will carry your thoughts with me,

Forever yours,

Mr I’m in love with my city.

 

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