A reader’s poem: West Street

Brighton is full of mystery, intrigue and fun
Even for those who read The Sun
Off the train, don’t look left, head for the treat
That awaits you; the soulless vacuum, West Street
Grow up here, it’s where you go, under age
Then you learn, what’s all the rage
The town’s other jewels, depending on taste
North Laine, St James’, The Lanes, make haste
Each town has a zone
Populated by a clueless clone
Enticed by big brands, shit beers, theme bars
Naff tats, mass produced clobber, fight scars
Open your mind, meander off the beaten track
Have a think, ‘what isn’t cack?’
Explore the town, expel the obvious
Discover the real Brighton, dirty and glorious

Dan Tester