Brixton in Flames

Sirens rang through the night, but sirens ring out

Through every night. I’d watched grainy newsclips of Tottenham

Burning to the ground but I felt detached. Sure I used to live in Enfield

A stone’s throw away from the chaos.

But come morning light a different sight is going to have me up at night

This aint my home town, but it’s where my home is right now

So doesn’t that give me the right to call Brixton my own town?

These sentences came with a frown so I put my feet to the ground

Just to see what kind of shit was actually going down.

Upon the windows of consumer dream stores erected wooden boards

Tried to hide the spider web glass and gaping sharp holes.

Three letter chicken joint closed on a Monday, chairs stacked on tables

Beneath darkened light bulbs, no chicken eaten, no money taken.

But money will be spent on this burden of madness. The proud Bobbies

Standing with proudness – no gladness,  while the community hangs its head with sadness.

Out in front of the clothing store, two letters its brand,

Joined together with an ampersand squats smashed and broken, this token left

By over – zealous ‘youths’ hurling ‘missiles’ through windows.

And we watch our capital fall to pieces as the leeches in government

Supplement their insanity by shitting on the people.

A burnt out shop front of a popular sports and clothing chain

Became another victim in a vicious, endless game

Left out front the enforcers of law behind their red tape, their blue tape

Their yellow tape cordon off the brutality of the city’s rape.

It’s fate sealed from the idle thumbs on the igniters of 50pence lighters

Highlighting the gluttony, the covetousness of those who seek to profit from tragedy.

And what do the people do? Why… they stand around peripheries

Photographing everything there is to see. And me? What else is there to do but scream?

My hands feel dirty, though all I do is observe, I stand back and watch those watching those

Who take photos.

All standing around having a laugh, this daft brass pointing here and there.

Taking names, busting faces irrespective of colour, incomprehensible of races.

What a bunch of rats. What a bunch of haters.

And news reports speak of escalating violence for a third night of Anarchy in the UK.

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