The God Of Albert Road Poem by Bill Mitton

Much like any other God
most people
never saw him coming.
Yet when he spoke
it boomed
no ignoring him.
He was Paddy
the God of Albert road,
resident deity
of the A6.
His loud prophecies
almost Biblical.
In that they,
passeth all
understanding.
Possibly
due to
the cloud cover
between his
idea of heaven
and ours.

A down to earth God
who rode
a small bicycle
festooned
in tinsel and day glow
orange tape.
Not quite
your
traditional fiery chariot
but
on Stockport road
it seemed
fitting.

No need of a Gabriel.
this God
bulbhorn, hand, and
handlebars
were for him,
even in the rush hour
always.
In communion.
A self reliant saviour
offering
blessings whilst
dodging
heavy traffic.

Somewhat untypically.
He was not
A vengeful God.
His unholy bark being
infinitely worse
than his
unpractised bite.
Though,
in truth
and passing,
his language
could, sometimes
be choice.

On high and holy days
when he chose
To ride
amongst us.
He donned his
celestial shades.
offerings of
some old earthly
lucky bag.
They were his
Shields
against the fallen.

Yet it is written
Gods, like stolen cars,
are often left,
burned out and
abandoned.
I still remember
the days
he rode out to
offer benediction
to bus drivers
and remind
noise dazed shoppers
that
Paddy
the God of Albert road.
Liveth!