Let the minutes unleash

The bullets Brixton wishes

Barbed wire is the ivy on my walls

Acrid cordite like mist in autumn

Dissolves the harsh street into pellucid cameos

Think how the striking truncheon outpaces thought

How the burgeoning Molotov cancels discussion

And for just this once in my black British life

Exploded the atoms in me into atoms of power

Let each viewfinder’s instant exorcise

The pictorial myths complacency devises

Each hurtling brick aimed to smash this enchanter’s glass

Aimed to loot the truths for so long packaged in lies

I am the hundreds of putrid meat in English prisons

In derelict houses, in borstals, the millions of condemned meat

Who let the grim minutes unleash their canned grime.