The writing is on the wall
On the pavement
and on the doors
The splutterings of aerosols
condemn decency with slogans
the start and finish lines
drawn in
to a tag race
to the end of the street
Where principles
are left to live
in a cul-de-sac
behind closed curtains
and bolted doors
Being threatened
by howling
dealing shadows
rounding
and pacing
ripping up the small hours
Playing on fear
and trading in misery
Insecure victim protection schemes
and positive perpetrator guidance
leaves the common citizen
in no man’s land
Unable to protect
Unable to be protected
because Police are bound
in crimson bureaucratic bindings
as by-law wardens
walk the curbstones
with fixed penalty tickets
signed and in-hand
at the ready and
complete with
several translations
Because we
are all sufferers
of the income generation
A time when crime
is weighted
on profitability
rather than morality
