warm
like a candle in a pumpkin's head
seconds scatter
like thunderstorm rabbits
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like a candle in a pumpkin's head
seconds scatter
like thunderstorm rabbits
bat-shit and double barreled
I stand corrected
I leave my guts behind
thinking just maybe I'd be faster
scotch tape holds my head in
my stumped feet
and their copper caps
clump the walk, scrape the pavement
my folded soul has un-ironed lines
I smirk, blame static cling
teethy crowds point and laugh
friends among them
my bubble alien head
strikes streetlights as I turn to run
my wounded knees
rusty, like hinges screaming
I have tattoos for each enemy
each broken heart and every battle
I look to them for strange comfort
they form a map to here
This angry snowy street
its mindless equatorial mob
smacked stupid by a pitchfork pulse
I thought maybe I could outrun them all
a slick bomb licking wet storm wounds
some maniacal mechanical animal
freshly unengaged from barb wire tired
the crowd's nebulous eyes wide
the corner keeps a white tower worm
versed in potency polemic, ineptly academic
his girl's thighs ache in rhythms unfamiliar
later they lay in tired tricks and riddle
chatterbox gossips forge legend
idolatry and library stink in the air
a sudden look, an easy smile
she falls hard as river stone, smiling
I like accidents and nightmares
humility and uncorrected errors wild
humanity's thick bloody flaw
tonight his timing's just too precise
He's all things to all people
Intellectual or sexy ineffectual; on demand
last time I met a predator like that
my girl lost years and ran home blind wild
tonight it's a pop-candy diatribe
a hip sexy ride on the escalade
47 broken hearts in the glove box
invisible wreckage dribbles out behind
to the crowd he is alien phrenology
a carnal untranslated mystery
curtain cloaked syncopated entropy
wound tight as a wounded child
No, Surrender
-Justin Currie
Big Macs for the fat
low-cal wraps for the call centre battery hens
Japanese snacks for the choice-spoilt citizens
caviar kickbacks for the citadel denizens
airport shoe shine servicing the suits
among the little silver stereos and hand-grown cheroots
first class passengers file on last
after the scum are packed in with their tax-free loot
checkout calamity, cheated out of loyalty points
ten more years of this joint you’d be home and dry
beggars beat round the cash machine
but you just slip between them with the usual lie
terrible tales of kidnapped kids
keep you focused on the family and filling up the fridge
neighborhood watchers, shop door dodgers
stick their sunnies on the market and start racking up the bits
Should you stand and fight?
Should you die for what you think is right,
so your useless contribution will be remembered?
If you’re asking me, I say
No, surrender.
No, surrender.
Constant growth the cancerous cure
a sworn in race of profiteers insure
cheap cars for the rich
cheap lives for the poor
cheap weeks in the sun
free drinks at the door
puerile propaganda plugs up the TV
keep folk following the money so they’ll never be free
keep them swallowing the swill
the celebrities, the paedophiles,
the immigrants invading from the camp over the hill
war talk, the big debate
foot soldiers in the capital liberating new kinds of hate
come shots of human dots caught in the spotlight stare
he dies, he dares,
fatuous fast track are sneering at the shelf stackers
little middle-Englanders can’t stand the backpackers.
fortress freedom, come on in
take your chances, you might win
Sunset beaches, security patrol
keep out the undesirables who won’t accept the code
equal opportunity to live in total poverty
execute the ignorant, incarcerate the slow
car caressant managers, choking up the avenues
braindead patriots standing in salute
paperwork raining again and again
so the billionaires can claim there’s an enemy to shoot
pill pushers, door steppers
personal goal shoppers, life style trend-setters
meditating mind benders
hair-brained share sellers, pumping out stocks
‘til you’re choking on a chain letter, avalanche of dross
dog squads trawling through every country
tracking down fools who are bullshit hungry
blinded by divinity, followers fall
into the mantrap saddle on the way to war
athletes compete in grand charades
while tanks flatten streets, and a nation laughs
visa holders gape at the changing guards
while creeps buy bums to take their photographs
film fans flock to the latest schlock
blockbusters block out even the vaguest thought
bankrupt schools grind out fool after fool
and feed them to a system where idiots rule
phone booths, phone votes, bogus questionnaires
you get a say as if anybody cares
Joe Public doesn’t wanna play,
so liquidate his life as he looks the other way
don’t get sick, don’t get wise,
or they’ll get you with a justice where everything is lies
march down Main Street, complain if you want
but it’s 20 years straight for the losers at the front"