Blood on the Streets

Posted on May 1, 2013


Picture courtesy of

Picture courtesy of

So the squeeze begins
even more so than before
Tightening the belts
of the poor
Running around
like headless chickens
As we revert back to
a time of Dickens

The summer of twenty-eleven
a distant memory to them
but to us we shall
never forget
As blood on the streets
was spilled
When anger and distrust
become all too real

It seems our leaders
never learn
They continue to mistreat
the poor that burn
Drowning in a mess
created by a the alien rich
Who keep on pushing
the people to its limits

The riots of twenty-eleven
will be but a picnic
If something is not done
to fix their dirty tricks
For one day the nation
will have had enough
For to tempt fate is
to call their bluff

Then it will be
game over…

Posted in: Poetry