The Sunday Massacres

The boys and girls march hand in hand

Dressed plain in black with hats to match

Long roads and streets they occupy

With love, with peace and fierce hearts

Out of the blue them henchmen come

With rifles, batons, pepper and gas 

The bullets fly, oh how quickly they wheeze

Past no man’s land, straight for the boy’s knee

Bang! It sings right through the air

Bypassing protocol, before flag and warning

Crash! The bullet rounds explode; reveal a hole

Blown through bare skin, helmets and shields

At the station North the zombies drift

White Wankers masked with faces lit

Shameless they march right to the crowd

Beat down with their sticks, with trembling zeal

999 calls are made, ’bout pandemonium and pain

No answer, just tone, “We’re dealing with this.”

Two hours, no help, just black libels

“We are busy down South,” they relentlessly say.

Screams rattle the train, the doors won’t close

They barge through closed gates, naught would keep them at bay.

Red marble on white; “Stay home if you’re scared.”

What such things are done on Victoria’s shore?

©2019

You can find more of my work here: https://isabellesparkles.wordpress.com

#poetry #standwithHK #fightforfreedom #freehongkong #HKprotest #PrayforHongKong