Urban Warfare

Nameless faces tell us we’re going to war,

I wonder where they think we’ve been.

Each in our uniforms, black suit, striped tie

Marching to the front line, clutching our briefcases

Like the paperwork holds the keys to victory,

Like they’ll protect us when our cosy lives explode.

Mental muscles flex and pose in minimalist offices.

Soldiers making a killing on the stock exchange

So we can line pockets and grease palms.

The fear that we will not get up and over

The latest life hurdle means we grab and claw

For the meagre protection of a bank balance.

The brave and fearless warrior will cross the road

To avoid the reminder that success is fleeting

Eventually we all sit in the gutter, shot down

By an unseen enemy on his way up.

‘War is not nice’, but we accept the battles

In return for our shiny new lives, however long they last.