Do you remember when we playing in the streets of Belfast
All those years ago?
An age of innocence quickly surpassed
As the violence around us would grow
–
Patrolling alleys armed with batons, playing paramilitary games
10 years old and it’s already too late
A child of the times, a childhood in the flames
of violence, death and hate
–
Held down in the bushes, arms pinned to the floor
Forced and scared and alone
Maybe two of them, five years older or more
Carving UDA in my flesh with a stone
–
Another day, another beating, another blow to the head
I’m English so I get what they think I must fear
Another day thinking I’d be better off dead
Its not like I asked to be here
–
Wrong nationality, wrong accent, wrong faith
Wrong time,wrong place, all wrong
Learn to hide in shadows like a ghost, a wraith
Weak when I should have been strong
–
These are people I see every day
They say blood is thicker than water
But blood is harder to explain away
Than the water spilt during torture
–
Hold me down, pouring water into my mouth till I almost drown
Watch me choke and cough and vomit it back out
Then holding my nose, keep pouring it down, pouring it down…
Cannot breathe, cannot win, cannot shout
–
Todays beating in Ormeau park takes place at 4pm
Roll up roll up, See the English boy. On his knees again.
–
And Police sirens keep rushing by
Playing that Belfast lullaby
Echoed explosions, maybe ten
Death walks the night again
–
A book of memories with redacted pages
Belfast days deeply resented
In my head a storm still rages
Which memories are true and which invented
–
And why have the rest of my memories dissolved
Except In my dreams where I kick and fight
50 plus years and still unresolved
still a child trembling in a Belfast night