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
© Jacquie Wyatt
Recent Comments