Modern Life Is Rubbish "Modern life is rubbish", Old Tom Clifford knows Waking every day at six To get his deadly daily fix, Smoking twenty so his cancer grows. See him off down Taunton road again To get in before his boss - Tardiness only makes him cross - He hopes his heart can take the strain Of another day breaking his back. "Modern life is rubbish", Katie Sedgewick moans, Spending twelve hours on her knees Scrubbing floors, lacking expertise, Doesn't help her aching bones. She scrubs just to pay the rent And feed her craving for the fags. As the rest of her battered body sags She's off down the bingo that keeps her spent And teetering on the edge of the sack. "Modern life is rubbish" Valery Henderson discovers In the moon's shining glare She turns in her office chair, Losing more hours and more lovers To her job's bottomless pit, Demanding and cavernous, Relentlessly ravenous For her moments and her spirit Without any real payback. "Modern life is rubbish" John Bristow reckons Standing in the dole queue again For his bi-monthly stain As the sneering clerk beckons He's cap in hand Like a street-bound drifter Reduced to shop-lifter, A bounty in the wasteland Expecting the last attack. Modern life is rubbish And we're all waiting for collection, Tipped and crushed in the mechanism, Mashed together, a mass of pessimism, A clod of abjection and rejection Unbalancing society as we gyrate, Working to separate ourselves from mess We've become through the daily process - We try to comb ourselves straight - Another delusional sidetrack
Sally Mann, American photographer, was born today in 1951.
Wes Anderson, American filmmaker, was born today in 1969.
Nina Hossain, English journalist, was born today in 1975.