Black Book


Spray bitter on the wall, art as barricade,

herded in, jostled, shoulders shoved

chin on chest, mouth forced closed,

eyes never fully opened because

who’d want to see that.


Spray-paint you black, silver, green,

tag you undesirable, dissed you

dispossessed in this territory,

it’s theirs, you have no right

to breathe or stumble through

these side streets, get lost.


Rats like you, know everywhere

becomes somewhere foreign at night.

Creep out, see what’s left to salvage,

flip rubbish into beauty, colour

your motherland, they can’t keep

their foot on your neck forever.


They’ve buffed you but you’ve left ghosts

from the massacre, moved on to Landmarks

so they cannot cross you out,

you’re no longer singular,

you’re a crew that might overwrite.





Blackbook – a Graffiti artist’s bible of their own designs.

Buffing – obliterating with another design or over-painting by the authorities.

Ghosts – faint imprints left after buffing.

Massacre – removing every post leaving a blank surface.

Landmarks – highly visible but inaccessible sites




© Jacquie Wyatt

 Jackson Pollock Me


© Jacquie Wyatt