Slum-Makers

The walls of Pompeii are all full of graffitos,
Where Romans left scratches of slanderous hissings,
And chalked-out each grievance like buzzing mosquitoes –
But mostly left scribbles like dogs leave their pissings –
Thousands of scribbles from two thousand years ago,
Scrawling on walls just to scream “Look at me !”
The historians love them, for what they can show
About what life was like in the First Century.

And it wasn’t only the cells and latrines –
For nowhere was safe – not shops nor graves –
It’s been the obsession of soldiers and teens,
Since the ochre hands-prints were left in the caves.
Even cathedrals had pilgrims who jeer,
And localised rumour-reportages –
So once a time, old Kilroy was here,
While Chad kept a record of shortages.

So who are these Romani Ite Domums,
With their slogans and sweary scrawls ?
And why must they commandeer the commons,
By spraying on public walls ?
Yet those who condemn the tags the hardest –
And the St George flags – then represent
The likes of Banksy as a cutting-edge artist,
(On a stolen canvas, and paying no rent).

But I must be honest with the street art fans –
However old, scrub them out, unread.
Don’t justify the hooligans
And the anti-social stink they spread.
Be honest, should the youths of today
Have loose on your house, your car, your soul ?
Or would you deny to the future the say
Of the historic daubings of every troll ?

‘Reportages’ in the second verse is not French, so should be pronounced as ‘report + ages’ – four syllables, with stress on the ‘port’.