Killers

the group of boys in the computer room
have just finished their game and are
talking about who could kill more cops
in the next round of their noon fun

for hours the boys had sat in front of
a computer - well they meet up each noon
after school to have their killing expedition -
shooting like rambos at renegades hiding
between doors, darkeneed rooms, or sprinting
down stairs as they return equally lethal rounds of firearms

for hours the boys laugh, scream at the top of
their voice, squel, even bang tables when they lose out
to a friend as his points inch up with each fire he executes
that tears into the back of his targets

the amplified sounds of every action
from the stereo makes their heart racy;
they feel they are right at the scene of every killing
they are the real proud killers

in the streets too some policemen
who have just started their work are uneasy
with the news of another serial killer, and a gang of
robbers who have been terrorising everyone from
jewellers to bankers to the society's high flyers
cityfolks are even finding their own homes insecure

'if we can just round them up and hang them? '
one of the policemen lights his cigarette, puffs,
sighs and laughs to his gun toting colleagues

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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