pedigree_chump

What better way to express my grief, than through the writing of bad poetry.

Requiem for a Shopping Arcade

for all those whose livelihoods who have been lost in the fire; for the community of beautiful freaks that allowed an escape from the madness of this country; for my teenage years; for the good times; for the Maddens and their dream of bringing good coffee from Canada to Belfast, in the form of Arcadia Cafe.

Farewell then, sweet Arcadia,
The World Turned Upside Down
The chick from Rip-Off Clothing,
And the tramp that hung around.

Now everything is burning
With the scent of misspent youth
One hundred thousand cigarettes
Set fire to the roof

The goths, the drunks
The geeks, the punks
Lost souls in hostile country
Blue-rinse grannies mixed with queers and trannies,
And a Wiccan pagan monk.

Farewell then, sweet Arcadia,
Utopia exists
It doesnt last forever
But its stuffed with teenage kicks

When I die and go to heaven
Id like to think wed meet-o,
And taste again forever
The perfect bean burrito.


North Street Arcade: Dilapidated Chic


a typical evening at Arcadia Cafe


before it burnt the fuck down. sadly, the band escaped with their lives.