Thursday, 10 December 2020

Communication 163

do not resuscitate 

Why is it when we’re on the cusp of a revolution

the cowardly bastards run,

how long will it take to push you towards the brink?

we don’t evolve, we shrink

like dying stars in separate universes,

common ground has been crowned

the king of all curses

life’s not so much a forward movement

rather an insemination in reverse,

there’s far too many people eyeing up the prize,

tell me – who would you sacrifice to stay alive?

can’t you see our minds have been hacked?

are you to fucking dumb to think?

you’re just another chain in the link,

impregnated ‘group-think’

will autocorrect all that it infects, 

there is no dignity for all us insects

only boredom, only whoredom,

bureaucrats bidding on our organs

you’re to immobilised to retaliate

I don’t want to tell you it’s to late

they’ve left us for dead,

“do not resuscitate” 



Thursday, 15 October 2020

Communication 162

emotion sickness ‘turn the television off’

if I can just keep my senses silent

I need not deal with the cause,

emotion sickness

such a burden for those

who would do just about anything

not to feel,

have you walked these streets?

can you see what’s real?

it’s ok if you don’t want to tell,

it’s easy to see the countries gone to hell,

seldom seen unity, a parallel state

a disease from within preparing to retaliate,

when? where? how?


the benchmark of the unelected 

a common defence has been neglected

can’t you see we’re all infected,

untruth after untruth,

keeping the spin coming,

we don’t need the proof, 

if we can just inject the youth

with a perfectly crafted delusion

then half the war is already won,

everywhere I look there’s a bleakness

a disenfranchised mass of drones

marching forth towards the furnace,

emotion sickness,

the normalisation of actions, 

orchestrated distractions

that keep us in collective shock

‘turn the television off’


Wednesday, 2 October 2019

Communication 161

the technotronic era

it’s far too late to retract such liberalism
‘ism’ after ism’, a straight-jacket, a gag
a homosexual, a ‘fag’, your right wing
views will only do you harm,
I’m tongue tied and despised,
he who tries to take on the state will fail
so you vote for betrayal,
it’s an egg and spoon race
it’s the media spin, first past the post wins,
those left behind will perish for their sins
condemned to rot upon the back benches
a caricature squeezed between column inches
they’re in for a pound, I’m left with a penny
the illusion to the many
that the few don’t control you,
they’re in it for the gold
a stealth tax on the old,
if you keep your mouth shut, you’ll be fine
you want to question the party line?
get to the back of the que,
the vote doesn’t include you


Thursday, 15 August 2019

Communication 160

the baggage of failure

I promise one day we’ll find a place called home,
I don’t know where we’re heading
it’s impossible to ever know,
grab your bags lets go, there’s a poison in the air
we’ve got to leave town before the whole place
comes tumbling down, the fire in this boys eye
has killed his vision, he use to be so wise
determined to shoot for the stars,
he was wounded by his past,
you can only clean the slate
so many times before you’re left red-raw,
why are we here? what are we living for?
a tidal wave of the unclean
are thrown to the dogs of this war,
I never pictured myself a ‘null’
a ‘void’ trapped in the house that jack built,
I fear not the consequences of my action,
only the giants mass that comes crashing down
upon the broken back of my wreckage,
to live with the unexpected
is to proceed to persist through shock,
those that haven’t crawled from the
fracturing of the day can’t locate a connection
to try to communicate in my language,
I want to live without the baggage of failure 


Communication 159


hitchhiking, encompassing
no great need to belong
I can’t stand the frustration,
inhibited by mental restraint,
don’t wait up, I’ll be back late,
the years have been unkind,
I’ve tried to salvage sanity
in the shape of a prescribed reality,
maybe you were undeserving
a bad apple yet to turn those
around you rotten,
or you were simply a ricochet
caught in the crossfire
of someone else’s desire,
either way you now retire
to the fact, your youth
ain’t ever coming back

Saturday, 27 July 2019

Communication 158

the golden age

welcome to the golden age
come grab a knife
go take a life,
stabbing is all the rage,
don’t be boring,
don’t be beige,
you’re alive in this golden age
where cultural enrichment
and a failure to integrate
has made it impossible
to relate
to those
that walk around me
and those that talk over me,
I’m disgusted with what I see,
since when did multiculturalism
repair such division?
I use to wear my heart clearly
on my sleeve, but I fear now
it will be taken from me
if I dare show
my true feelings,
there’s nothing less appealing
than someone else’s
utopian vision
forced down upon you
like a new religion,
truth be told we’ve all been sold
decades ago
but who was to know,
I’ve tried my best
but I just can’t relate to those
who choose not to assimilate 

Wednesday, 24 July 2019

Communication 157

false god disorder

I want to be an anarchist
I want to change the world,
to fight for the freedom of others,
whilst my hedge fund quietly doubles,
I can afford to be a hero,
an ‘eco warrior’, an arse,
a hypocrite of the highest order
an instigator of hypocritical disorder,
you’re simply putty in the hands
of those for whom you slate,
you’ve been chipped and numbered,
barcoded by the state
and all these diverse opinions
you’ve spent an age quietly crafting
are nothing more than sound-bites
implanted in your head by the ‘sodomites’
that parade their perverse persuasions
right in front of your eyes
“injustice” I hear you cry
whilst you quietly up the rent
to prevent
those who pay your life long subsidy
from tasting a sense of security
carry on … continue
don’t mind me,
you’re a hypocrite of the highest order
a victim of a ‘false god disorder’