Shit Britain

What would be a shit Britain if everything wasn’t shit to me?
what would be the bitter pill they spike and let you die? what lie?
would i be offended if i couldn’t taste the rage. the battle. the hands on the cage
the fires. questions and answers for those who stick their cameras in your face
pull up your hood and walk away. the dog needs a walk. a jobsearch to do
a scoot away to toytown in a corsa made for two
sick lives? fuck off for what part of Britain belongs to me?
the idle life that leads us to malcontented smiles
under the dark light. under the relentless rain. in the pain
who gives a shit. you fuck off and lie for what is Britain to me?
but sit and cancel out the debt and dont dip your head under their shit
be proud and decide not to suffer but stand up and even the odds
place your hands together and discuss the idle wrath they give and what they say
for what is Britain to you? you show me what is yours. i’ll show you battles
for the cash and the kicking down of doors. fuck the police and you
for what part of your law has become a law to me? i was never asked. were you?
but nod your head and go to work you worthless chav arsed gutless turd
you end of things you fucking fool. you should have saved that certificate from school
but fuck them who cares we sit and die we let the cunts stack up and fly
we let their broadcasted shit stream fly
right into our skunked fucked blasted red eye
as we watch what does it mean to us. this sick fucking run through
of sex obsessed pests. the kids they fuck and the show bizz luck the gala events the sex for rent
you fucking ask me what this place means to me? Soon i say. soon you fucking watch mate
you watch

Hostility Acquisition Inquisition

Fuck it who would have thought it who would have had the sense to see it? John Dillinger wrapped up in a cord so bright it split. for a moment. the grace inherent, the beauty of the whole piece the entire fucking thing, lonely in its sincerity, lovely in its sense of worth.

Again you would have thought, again, for another moment, the idea that we have set our course and so envisage our journey as a sincere effort, one driven from will above and the ineptitude of Gods idle travels.

But she knew of course, the idle flicking of a little finger and the tense crystal note of a missive a stark prayer sent above, to the ether and lost for a while in the sense of it. But for a gentle unbuttoned shirt and that swell of a breast one would task to sit awhile and ponder for a minute the whole sordid affair. The gasp of littered morals swept down a thing that is a thing again. yet let the eager throats swallow that thickened love that flows and leaks among us, this oil this lubricant that stings our very ideas into action. a bitter spell sent from dark books with words that look like the tortured souls of the released.

i would ask that she flutters a gentle hand, down and around to at least give this idle creature a great worth a thing to see and cherish. but it is condemned. it is not allowed.

I get on the tips of my toes to the window of the cell. cracked it is and the moisture rusted the wired glass as streams of brown amongst the filth of it that were covered in murk. but i stretch a finger and scratch a little from the glass and clean it away and see outside away from the razor wire and the black barricades something bright far in the distance just above the horizon. above the grey hills. filled with black heather.

The Bridge is Dragon


There’s not a thing left in there not A thing to give scrabbled barrel floor intent on nothing at all. I looked at it and saw the filth of it and the marks where my fingers pressed into the steel the roaring of the cars and trucks underneath me feet the damp air sucked pain from me bones and made me scars ache and cramp so I bent over a little to ease it and somebody asked if I was alright. Yes, as that’s what you say as you smile at them isn’t it? One hand on the handrail one foot through the rail each car underneath screams up like wind from a fast shank. The passers look and wonder but a smile is all it takes to make them carry on. We know all of it and the hands on my shoulders make it hard to climb over they grab at my hands and peel back my fingers from the steel. Sweet Michael. Never left in the first place confused at where the sun could be in the murk above. But they keep my legs in the other side and they don’t listen and the cramps are a reminder and the looks don’t get any kinder and they won’t let you drop won’t let you fall so you brace yourself for a little more.
The looks they tend to get bolder and now a cop has turned up and they want to know why, so I point to the sky and they look to the heavens but they know this particular dance and why.
Walk away and touch it cold and shrunken but alive under my fingertips and I think it will be there tomorrow I hope but I think. I think it is always there and every day they scrape me off the road, lift me up and take me home. Tuck me into bed and I wake up again the scars still ache in the cold and I still bend to ease the pain and the bridge it sits like a black iron dragon in the drizzle and the stink of diesel fumes and I watch it from a distance and they watch me too. One day soon they will be unaware and I will fly again and there will be nothing to wrap the blanket around. No scars and soft tears. Just a message scratched in the peeling paint. ‘Mikey was ere’. For a moment he was.

The Shallow Men That Feed (MDMA Verse)


For even though they look and stare at you. i dont really care
simple glances are not a lecherous glare
theres no violence in it you know. no aggro
just the delight of the khat chewer
sniff merchants and long distance liars
who gave them the right to judge any way
you move against the leather all the guilt gone
the treasured tears in photographs
framed lost loves on sideboards and shelves
dont give a fucking care
i never did
i took the love you offered
sent you all the texts you hid
fight on sweetheart fight the cloven hoof
smile and carry on shake off the bitter men
you were always better than them

The Black Iron Merry Go Round (MDMA Verse)


for the ropes that bind them dearest
the lack of expectation in the sinners eyes
edged out of time the sinners abandon time
throw out those sick pages of rhymes
the idea that although we pulled together
we lost the time
eightfold sick anthems
and our sublime lives are better for it
rage all you want they never listen
inside the slick walls they plan with each other
there’s room for fucking millions in here
billions even
they move along the walls and corridors
so tightly pressed to the wall
they have polished it like a black mirror
like the screen on a turned off phone
they choke but look to you and see
if you noticed
do you suffer?
do you turn away and stutter?
the wench on the wooden horse
the singer of the saddest songs
the righter of the evil wrongs

For Lost Text Messages (MDMA Verse)


It never did make sense. i say ‘it’
i dont even know why or how it is
or what ‘is’ means for that matter
but it whirls and delivers the finest light
in coverings, wool, a blanket of sorts
sing me those low songs as mothers do
sit around the fire i have made for us
anatomy is beaten and left on the shore for God
bleached bones, forgotten phones that bleep
nobody picks it up
its just a habit you know

Poets Should Die and Fuck Off (MDMA Verse)

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Runners feet skimming the tops of the clouds
sky athletes lean from the lack of air
their rights tighter than an ISIS fighters stare
darker than politicians dyed hair
sadder than a final delicious act
tasting better than a last meal
and all poets say is yes
that something is also like that
intense that feeling a sense to linger
not have a clue but just to sit
stuck in a tree with a bag of glue
and i breathe it all in you see
again and again, it’s lovely glue
down to the last bitter thick gasp
hold tight to the bark of the tree
laugh at the stars they have made for me
the throat that is broke again
the night is getting colder
we all get a little older
the glue hardens on my face
it gives me a lunatics smile
but i dont really care
here in the freshest of air

The Effigies Still Fester (MDMA Verse)


It seemed to me it may have been…once
and the effigies still fester

What waters bluer than this would touch your feet
the island glad to receive you
abundant love. precious and forgotten
treasures happily given away

what better test than this. to push back and complain. resist
what a negative shower of shit to put up with all of this
to listen and suck it up
reel/rod/line/lead and hook
look at the sun high above and settle down
watch the pretty clowns, watch them dance and play
underneath their machines still hack
like fucking through gentle quiet clay
Dont cross over and please dont tumble from the sky. to burn
just be daft, pretend we can break through the plexiglass
and cry
dont say anything, keep it a secret
say nothing at all to them

All Grist For The Mill (MDMA Verse)


For your ill fitted life the struggle and the wrenching
the thirst that always needs quenching
your fucking ex boyfriend that needs a shank
the lesser pain to give a heartfelt thanks
the dire needs of those who stare and point
for what is this England for if its not for me?
To see those fuckers in suits hanging from a tree
sick merchants and bankers delights
the class who sleaze and crawl to your bed at night
the one hand gives and the other wretches
the one that fetches the one that laughs
rings on your fingers
the coins just dribble through
who else was this bullet made for
if it wasnt for you?
Settle down and dont rock the boat
dont weep over the corpses of our long lost hopes
systems, just tubes of meat
and the information they suck in, change, shit out
but as you like darling, a subtle message
i know you like it a little rough
as i put my thing in, i look to the window
just a moment