This is not a cultural problem

I took a look at The Times,
and there they were again,
a header on the front page
for posterity
and nothing more.

Keith Vaz, whose crimes
go whistling every day,
promises to treat the matter urgently
now that it has suddenly dawned on him
that Rochdale is not alone, again,
and that every town, hamlet and village
has its share of child-abusing monsters.

100,000 runaways hit the streets every year
and not one refuge bed.
Can you spot a problem?

Yes, exploitation is all yours, cher Vaz,
and in every town
there’s a children’s care-home
that you facilitate to the open market
to breed prostitution
and addiction
and career criminals.

This is not a cultural problem.

Baroness Wasri,
housing fraud’s number one offender
and Chairman of the Conservative Party,
notes that while it is true
British Asians
are disproportionately well represented
in the abduction and abuse
of white girls aged from twelve to sixteen,
this is by no means a cultural problem,
although she admits that these girls
are used as easy meat
by their perpetrators.

This is not a cultural problem.

I visited a friend at the weekend
who’s writing his memoirs
from a childhood spent in care.

Born in prison and taken from his mother,
she made amends and took him back.
On shopping sprees they would go
and he would steal for her,
do anything for her,
until he was six
when her boyfriend issued the ultimatum:
‘it’s him or me’.

United in sickness,
they threw the council a line
that he was a bad lad
who needed discipline
and guess what,
they carted him back into care,
labelled ‘delinquent’.

This is not a cultural problem.

His story’s called Chasing Paper
because that’s what he did,
from one disaster to the next,
his mind programmed to close down
when the struggle became unbearable,
social workers
tossing him from one paedophile
to the next
and the next
and the next.

But what can you do
when you come up
against a judge
who fucked you
only the night before?

He’s got to the age of eleven in his memoirs
and you can see in his eyes
that he might never finish it.
‘Believe me,’ he says.
‘The real trouble starts when I’m twelve.’

As an adult
(and they probably didn’t expect him to get that far)
he’s put one social worker in prison
and another in hospital,
for which he was given a criminal record,
but the real bastard still eludes him,
his whereabouts as cleverly hidden
as a bent bishop or a junkie judge.

After failing my friend as a child,
the council charged with his care
have now lost his records,
but that won’t stop him
from sleeping
or chasing paper.

He knows his story is sitting somewhere
dark and cold,
just in case he brings to light
their crimes.

This is not a cultural problem.

One of the Rochdale Nine
quite rightly blamed the government
for allowing these care-home girls
to be so readily available for abuse.

‘They were there, on a plate!
What could we do?
Back home,
these girls would have been beaten
to death.’

This is not a cultural problem.

The government enjoys fatherless children.

Even Cameron leaves his daughter in the pub,
albeit a rather bespoke one,
and she’s only eight.
Steady on, Dave,
a bit young, even for you,
don’t you think?
And one of your own..,
Who’d have thought it?

Leave your work in the office, by all means,
but don’t leave your daughter in the pub, son.

And what might be his message
on Father’s Day this year?
‘Feed them to the lions.
The football’s on.
Now support your country!’

Don’t worry, Dave.
We all make mistakes,
only yours are worse.

This is not a cultural problem.

Care-home kids are easy pickings
for this sickened society,
and while crimes upon them dampen down
those to others
seen as more worthy of life,
I often wonder what a policeman might do
if he found his own wonderful daughter
beaten black and blue,
her innocence shredded
like a social worker’s crimes.

Those thumps on the ceiling of the takeaway
might be worth investigating after all, officer.

This is not a cultural problem,
so please stay with me
just a few moments longer.

This shower of shite may not compliment
cucumber sandwiches and pop
but please don’t go just yet
to a poem about flowers and birds.
There’s plenty of time for that.

Please
get on your knees
and pray for the care system’s boys and girls,
that they may be treated with respect,
and not be used and abused
by the grey man’s quiet killers
who dress in suits and smell nice
and use children as feeling-fodder
for their hatred,
their torment,
their utter indifference
to the daily grind
behind desks
and dark pasts.

Please don’t allow these children
to be used
like porn channels,
relief for a moment
from the anger and inadequacy
of the normalised sick,
to arrest ever darker thoughts,
which may or may not
lay dormant.

And if you know of anyone
who abuses children,
be sure that no one will help
unless you stand up and fight.

This is not a cultural problem.

This is your problem.