POETRY – RHYME

Tribal Warrior:

Saturday morning fever, anticipation of the match,
Getting ready for action, the defending of our patch.
Tooled up for agro, ‘The Red & White Saints Crew,’
Skinhead ‘Westwood Boot Boys,’ rabid anti-blue.

Waiting for our revenge, for away day battle scars,
Now our turn to waylay, the scum in street & bars.
Pride of team and town, display of bottle & spunk.
Oblivious of the illusion, image of thug and punk.

Fired by speed & booze, addicted to lower animism,
Chanting herd phenomena, instinctual violent tribalism.
Where boys become men, their fear submerged in power,
Chance for their expression, distorted, base & sour.