Ant Smith

All poems

Reckoning

They take away the bus service, the libraries and the loos
Close down all the pubs and clubs and leave us nowt to do
But to pull our curtains closed and listen to the news
A new night service on the tube for when they've relocated you

They take a land that's deeply loved and build a wire fence
How come regeneration comes at community's expense?
If there's nothing left around that's worthy of defence
Please don't be surprised at our rage and violence

Turn us into migrants, displace us from our homes
Build upon the soil where lays our ancients' bones
Sounding quite familiar, like you've heard it all before?
Nowhere else left to exploit, so they're coming to our doors

Once every plot of history has been excavated of its dead
Then they will be accountable to all the dispossessed
Once every space of unity has been divided into flats
There will be no community to hold the vengeance back

We understand The Walking Dead is not just a metaphor
We get the point, it's dog eat dog, but they're the favoured course
With no sense of history no responsibility is borne
They'd better build their towers high to defend against this storm

Whilst partial deprivation is an instrument of oppression
No-one knew of freedom like the last of the Mohicans
For when they've taken all there is, all they leave us with is hate
And this will be the destiny the gentrified will make