Actual Title [wouldn't fit in the title line]
England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses It's the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds.
The hanging gardens of empire
Commute self-flagellation:
The low brought high,
Audible cheers,
Resolution.
And the self-absolution
Of sadists, rekindles
The unconscious thought
That we are pure
Despite gratuity
in our peasant life.
Why do we accept the dead?
Why do we accept 'tragedy' in waiting?
And in the early morning hours
As the cloud consumed a town,
Foot over head, hand over hip...
Screaming for life atop the din
of our self-absolution,
8,000 people were gassed to their death,
By the greed of a few.
It's not like this is anything new.
*Note - Title from Sinaed O'Connor, "Black Boys on Mopeds", I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got, 1990.