The rain roars like fire
  As rubble smoulders
And two nations take stock
Of one copper's blunder.

  This is my Tottenham -
  My home and my heart -
Where fried chicken and Spurs
Unite communities.

  A father was shot
  While holding a gun.
He'd injured a PC.
He'd tried, and failed, to run.

  But then we heard cops
  Say 'We can't comment
But we know he was mad,
Mental and unstable."

  With no evidence
  To back-up these claims
As long as he's guilty
He's also fair game

  To be slandered by
  Those who should serve us
But anger the public
Who met at the station

  To voice our concerns
  But...

  The Met ignored protests.
  A wall of silence
Hit our vocal worries
And led to the kettling

  Of innocent fears
  And beaten youngsters
Demanding answers and
Justice but getting none.

  So houses were raised
  And lives set aflame
With passion, emotion and
Righteous authority.

  Who can we blame for
  These acts of aggression?
Twitter? The young? Maybe
The poor disenfranchised?

  No.
         Blame our police,
  Our ignorant chiefs,
Our public school leaders
And populist news briefs.

  All we wanted was
  To speak to the boss
And Nero said, "*******!
I'll fiddle while you burn."

Under the eternal lime,
In the shade of Woolley and Ames,
Grows a patch of hallowed turf
Where more’s at stake than simple games.

Bowling on despite the wet -
You never did mind a sticky wicket -
Undeterred by rat-a-tat
Of leather-on-willow, it was met
By pained cries.

Then you enlisted, weapon under arm,
To guard our stumps…
An explosion of noise.

Out.

Another tomorrow, caught in time.
Two people’s hearts; intertwined
In each other’s limbs. Kissing;
Passion rolling off their bodies.

The lovers tomorrow, lose their way.
The love’s long gone, but in their days
They yearn love lost. Dying;
Slowly killing off their bodies.

In truth I do not know what I should say.
My lack of prosody has found me out
And now I shall go hide or run away
From facing up to it.
                                   And yet I stay
To torment myself with dark thoughts about
My inability to have my say.
My lips are stuck, my mouth is choking on
My tongue.
                     I will not yield.
                                               I cannot face
The pain of knowing that my touch infects
All with decaying love and marks them for
The dark dog Depression.
                                            Killing all beauty
And previous wonder found in life.
I hurt, I ****, I maim, I destroy the
Beauty of words.

The bath is cramped. I fold into it,
Rosemary between my legs,
Grazing my thigh.
Sharp tendrils scratch the skin
As I’m enveloped by wet warmth.
The scent of Rosemary grabs the air
As I sigh in the steam
With a woody glow.

I find myself slick and ready for change,
Madly twitching toward clouds.
Winds of anxiety bring storms of regret
And a 4-lettered ***** back from scarlet nights.
As dawn breaks, the dream is over
But the candle still flickers,
Although not as bright.

I draw from you when I am not quite whole.
My legend’s ending but through you I keep
A name, a life, a body and a soul.

My life was torn asunder with my role
By this disease. From the wound despair seeps.
I draw from you when I am not quite whole.

In you my mind escapes this fetid hole
And revels in the seeds it plants and reaps
A name, a life, a body and a soul.

Yet soon I know Time will take what I stole
For dreams are only for when I’m asleep.
I draw from you when I am not quite whole.

My tongue withers. My heart burns hot like coal
For deadly thoughts in silent rooms will creep.
A name, a life, a body and a soul

Will all soon die. In you I must cajole
An urge to stack the shelves with memories
I draw from you when I am not quite whole -
My name, my life, my body and my soul.