Terror

The girl’s chest
was tattooed with the word
TERROR

and the craft was bad
with bleeding edges and a faded
blue smudge
colour

She was early twenties
- tops
and not half bad
as they
say

I had to admire her bravery

She danced passed me
in the May Day
melee

celebrating
with the coloured corpses
of a generation
warm and ragged
in the streets of Milan

There’s plenty of terror
here
in this splintered
country
- and with good reason too

no contract opportunities
just opportunists with contracts
making
a mockery

the youth are indeed
locked out

even the faux aspirations
that lead to frenetic pressure
and
ultimately
the wearing
of beige trousers
is now
unobtainable

and so
those born
post ‘84
with the need to inebriate the brain
and to leave noisy trails
strewn
along the street
cannot
attract
any more attention
than is already trained
on their supple
stained canvases

because today
on this
the first of May
the proletariat, commie red,
baby eating,
kid fuck heads
can dance
a jig of joy

because the riot shields
must simply watch on
ignored

somewhat
emasculated

for no other good reason
than to just stare down
and shove about
the elephant in the room

or
even
to just show a bit of skin
that may just serve as a reminder
as to what more can be found
beneath
the surface