The August Riots
Let the children marvel at the power
of holding a weapon for the first time,
a nervous smile across their faces,
a knife or a gun sleeping in their hands.
Let them see these horrors before them;
their friends beaten up, ridiculed,
and left, wounded, on the street floor -
their money stolen, their pride in shreds.
Let them witness for the first time,
a building in flames - lighting up their faces,
an innocent shop, or some apartments
spitting and smoking like the depths of hell.
A car on a street corner now a burnt out shell,
once bright and new, now rusted and burnt -
destroyed by the mobs that rule our home,
now propped up against a graffitied wall.
Let us peep out our windows and gasp,
recoiling with horror, amazed at the sight;
a view of an unrecognizable landscape -
our city - our London - destroyed, set alight.
by Tom Murphy