March - a poem by a Camden DF

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Many young people are taking part in the campaign against education fees and cuts, here is a poem written by one DF, Isabel from Cambden Woodcraft, contributed as part of the Kettled Generation blog:


My feet are numb

From marching in a crowd of banners and flags

Chanting, shouting, hell, we’ll make our presence felt


Trapped in a park by a loose chain of police

We’ll barge past

We’ll break free


Shrieking at Downing Street

Hurling insults and anger

Raining abuse down

To an impenetrable number 10


And onwards we march

Full of energy and fight


They trap us

Form two rows of impassive faces

Behind glass walls


As the police van rocks precariously

We stand on the roof and dance

A victory dance

Danced too soon, for we are stuck here


Contained by the police who form an enemy

Who are not our enemy

Cold in their uniform

Wishing, behind their helmets

That they’d worn more socks


We grow angry and we shout

But the rows of police do not budge


Riots in Trafalgar square

Lead to panicky calls from home

As the unyielding line of police forms a rock hard crevice

Between this dystopic place

And home


No chance of rescue

Nothing anyone can do

So at each end we protest, battle on

And in between we play music and dance

Smash windows

Light fires


It grows dark and we huddle

Around burning piles of placards

Torch your exercise books

No chance of uni anyway


We keep stamping to stay warm

Chanting as speakers shout over the roar

And then finally

After 10 hours of aching cold


We are on trains heading home

Back from our temporary trip to a strange limbo

Between two rows of police


Slowly, we thaw out

And left is piles of ash where our fires have died out

Broken glass, graffiti: we will march again.


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