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back Poems2 by Paul Garner, Peter Wilson Number of episodes: 10 Words of previous episode revealed to each author: all of story Written between 14 Apr 2005 and 28 Sep 2005 blah blah blah we strum our guitars... just like this! [da na na na na na na na] [da na na na na na na na] the stripper on the TV sings like she wants to touch me... just like this! [da na na na na na na na] [da na na na na na na na] they're making worlds out of glass the controllers and controllees they're robbing your hours and selling you time. they say that cream rises to the top but then it seems to rot something turns it sour appreciation of its own power begins to preach with certainty I diagnose insanity can't afford to be wrong no use for truth just hang on hang on hang on black bile lips hang on hang on dead man's grip off the drugs and on the drug bullets and milk for breakfast, you look at your cornflake box, and it seems like they're sellling: how to take over the world, make friends and influence p e o p l e. take over your neighbourhood bit by bit on each letter-box paint your little flag. buy your neighbours presents and then kill their children, take time to remind them that nothing's for free. establish a neighbourhood pact, a treaty, to put in writing that you'll keep your neighbours safe pointing out that they can always have more children but a neighbourhood is a precious fragile thing and therefore sacred. so you put your hopes in a gurl to understand the future's just like rain and only a princess should be pretending, owning nothing but babies and she's running out of steam the coffee meets her mouth like an egyptian dream. yeah my hope is in the girl when I dial her number just to listen to her breathe and yawn and tuck her hair behind her ear when we cling tight and walk like we're joined at the hip and I kiss all the makeup off her cheek and her lips we walk for miles out on the city beat bump and grind in backstreets under cctv dumpsters full of rubble and shops with antiques banker women in black cabs pass as I take a leak rekindling dreams of virtue in the chill of the night half-lit streets and cinemas ever the twilight and the coffee meets her mouth though she never seems to eat so much careless waiting oh but now she feels the heat spring has sprung new business in the markets of the soil and of the soul daffodils put on follies as a cowboy drills for oil this black gold heart of integrity and silence you know I speak the truth I come from a distant island your rose petals and your ochre and the gut-string violins and my urgent sense of purpose goading us to gentle violence don't run out of steam just yet babe I take a walk to work for breakfast, she takes cigarette and ink. Maybe I'm crazy or is it just this city haze? as I step out of the dairy it all seems like a dream. I wake up and put on some j.j. cale. Some people have got talent, that they never know. I'd like to take the tribal chiefs and have them put out their fires. Take them to a house of sound and let them find a tool. For infinite vibration, music, music could save those fools. lost in space with a pneumatic drill and the sugar crunch of a last-resort pill glass-harps carp melodramatic melodies across the AM frequencies as you say goodbye they're communicating to me, Steve in math! Steve? and nothing's as cold as nothing itself it's touching you now as the warmth seeps out entropy wins by radiation what you need is some good vibrations and then one toe the rebel faction taps a beat starts a chain reaction elephant horns and turtle drums rock-a-boogie the continuum you're alive and shakin' reawakened floating free and fancy breakin' eat britain smash spain kill china in your brain words and lines, maps fill with blood bodies in marshes under smoke and mud these dermarcations dead and deal so much suffering the invisible wheel, we're cannon fodder for dead ideas the nations we sing to are idols of fear, all the wrong done in the name of us, we're unified in killing but not in love. it's clear to the bums on the street as we pass them by as a people we're just persons, a gregarious lie. in god we trust but in no-one else charity, compassion, lie unused on the shelf. oh yes we are nation! a mighty people under thumb! supporting the machinations of death-machine-control. oh now we are united, in fear in fear of life, for to be alive is to know that death is just a part of life. but give me plastic motors, but give me future pills, give me everlasting life, so i can buy more things. i need to watch my diet, i need to watch my waist, i need to be here tomorrow, to see what progress has been made. he comes by night to the sound of picaresque sea shanties a-wandering a-wondering the rogues they fight over lost and found and pointless fancy fondling fumbling crumbling and finally succumbing waiting and watching I don't know what you ask he says I don't know what task you want me to accomplish you hold power over life and death but time will come and take you yet free is free don't you see? harmony is there to forget yeah, he says accordions play (they make me want to cry) the dead go by in their commotions nothing's real and nothing's dry this rain will fall three hundred days and then a little more your humor will be washed away the same way as your war the sky is foul the wind it howls still your cabal they plot their petty intrigues and hide behind patrician scowls and try on masks of mystery the light it fills my head from the ocean to the bed like I'm already dead these soggy boots this rusty blade the decking creaks the rigging's frayed i got to go i got to go you come in here and say this world is not for me you nor no-one this world is free for all free for all still they sell you land and rent your feet out from under your slave-wage shell 'cause people are for buying there's no roads out of Rome ideas are what rules us killing babies through the phones work it out here's a turn of the sun life unfrozen, love begun it's not semiphore not a code between bars listen up speak softly there's a factory building harms... UNITY MICROBE -2 SPACE TIME HERE ----> ...all the traps trap themselves snapping harmlessly at thin air all the bombs they explode leaving flowers on the desk and flour on the face of commando-president the lords of night the lords of war are left stumbling innocent on the sandy shore those claws were fake anyway this dimension's fill of yesterday those these were spray on plastic fangs welcome we come the people awake to a seeing sun. back © All work herein copyright the stated authors. |
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