Generation Yet

The baby boomers broke their toys
and threw them to the ground, and as they shuffle off
to homes of careless care, in
respite homes the spit will flow

Like whales they beach and roll and loll;
they lived their lives beneath the sun
that dries their skin
and fat, well-fed and all the hate within
and you and I, dear reader, we will live
and learn to put the knife in

The elderly, our enemy
at zero hour the zero hours
will look into their eyes and gaze into a past
of care-free lives, of holidays
and pension pots and buy-to-let and
hope you rot;

In careless homes of careless care
the baby boomers make their stand
and contemplate the God they killed
the authors that they killed, how smart they were;
they dodged the bullets but there was
one bullet that they could not dodge

Time has a trajectory
ballistics of its own; and as their fingers weaken
they grow sick and lose their grip
and we will take the whip
and flay their skin
and strip away the armour plate
and stab and put the knife in

our children, they will do
the same to me and you
and thus the rats consume their young
for fear they will be next;
they grew fat on burning flesh
and there will be a bonfire