Heath's Ledger (WIP) (Language)

[Vienna]

180 gallons of petrol
in a company  director's garage
while others have to get used to coupons
we ran out of candles one night
played fuck with mam cos the times
of the power cuts were in the papers

three day week at work
36 hours, monday to wednesday
thursday morn me and the lads
picked up at dawn by a black transit van
sat in the back,saying nowt
tired,bleary eyed and freezing fucking cold
pick-axe handles, baseball bats
in our calloused hands
we sped down the motorway

when we arrived
the braziers were glowing
tea was brewing
the wives wrapped up in blankets
had soup and sarnies ready

we piled out to a roar of welcome
we'll do our job, we pocketed the cash
noone will get through this fucking picket line.

[midnight candle]

Love the story and I'll be back later with some thoughts. Days of the flying pickets, eh lad

[Tom 10]

A story with lot of texture provided.  As with MC's recent series, I am somewhat at a loss for lack of the historical background which you folks lived.  But I know I'm not your target audience in any event. Still, I very much enjoyed the reading.  My bias is toward punctuation and capitalization when the poem reaches this volume, but for the most part you make it work just fine without.  I am a little lost in S.1, but stanzas 2,3 & 4 are abundantly clear to me, and by the time the last stanza arrives, the narrative is humming.  Only nit is both past and future tenses in S.4 L.2.
 
T

[Vienna]

cheers MC and Tom. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. As usual appreciated.

[Vienna]

180 gallons of petrol
in a company  director's garage
while others have to get used to coupons
we ran out of candles one night
played fuck with mam cos the times
of the power cuts were in the papers

three day week at work
36 hours, monday to wednesday
thursday morn me and the lads
picked up at dawn by a black transit van
sat in the back,saying nowt
tired,bleary eyed and freezing fucking cold
pick-axe handles, baseball bats
in our calloused hands
we sped down the motorway

when we arrived
the braziers were glowing
tea was brewing
the wives wrapped up in blankets
had soup and sarnies ready

we piled out to a roar of welcome
we did our job,we pocketed the cash
no bloody scabs got through this fucking picket line.

[Mark T]

Good narrative. Gung-ho but melancholic. Not getting the title.

[Vienna]

Thanks mark. The title is just Ted Heath and his bookkeeping.


Cheers

Richard

[Tom 10]

Thanks for help on the title = it had me flummoxed.

[Mark T]

Thanks mark. The title is just Ted Heath and his bookkeeping.


Cheers

Richard

Ah.

[Vienna]