Riot shields and coal fields

The banging was supposed to be intimidating,
but it had become as familiar as the ice cream van,
we were never a match though,
half the old boys coughed black lumps
and could only charge at a brisk pace.

There was enough partial demolition
for the youth to make it rain house bricks,
washing away the stain of social housing
down the kicked open doors of outside toilets.

They advanced with Roman tactics
and tear gas,
taking the fight down ginnels
and over back yard gates.
Coal dust, swept away with water cannons,
selling each piece for a pound.