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Split

August 6, 2017 — Leave a comment
I’m flying to Florida from Britain. To live. The thought of it makes me nauseous. As though I am walking away from a great museum to visit a theme park where nothing is real and all that appears to be real is an illusion.
A place where building sand castles on the beach is a method to distract you from what is going on in the real real world. Not the illusory construct of pickpockets and shady dealers who descend on the State to take advantage of those blinded by the sun and the hype.
fullsizeoutput_4f4.jpegThis is where I am going. To live. To exist. To walk away from Britain, the greatest country in History.
Going. Fast. I’m lying to myself.
Greatest country in the world?
 
Was. And as the wheels lift off from the tarmac and we are sliding into the clouds I watch other aircraft land with people coming back from Disneyworld and other noble distractions. And the non English speaking bodies ready to take advantage of the softest Social security system in Europe. And they are welcomed even though they hate us. Just like Disneyworld. Except we give them our money. The changing face from glory to ogre and a mess that will remain.
Yes, the moms and dads and their ridiculous amount of luggage consisting of Mickey lego and Star Wars toys they could easily have bought in their local High Stores. But no, it’s special because they could feed the mouse and say hi to Minnie. With memories and less money and nobody but themselves really caring where they have been. And they can tell their co workers and families about the way they had to stand in line for Splash Mountain and how their beds weren’t properly made and no-one gives a flying fuck.
And they’ll go back the following year because they will be dragged by their ego and envy. And then one day they will be dead and gone but the Mouse will still be nibbling his cheese the little bastard and the Imagineers will have created some other spectacular ride that they will hype all over the world and at the end of the ride and the day it means absolutely nothing because it’s done.
Except for the new kids building sandcastles on Cocoa Beach as the pick pockets and shady dealers work out new ways to distract you while you are blinded by the sun and an ever growing ignorance. The pick pockets and shady dealers are the imagineers who leave the Theme Parks as holograms to sit beside you on the beach and talk directly to you through your 3D mobile phone and you are so immersed and fascinated by it all, night falls and the day is done and your money has disappeared along with the affection you should have shown your children unaware, that they are the pawns in the game that are always first to be destroyed.

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Your voices make little difference,

The wind has the power to defeat

And take away all this dire screaming

But leave blisters and scars on your feet.

 

You can dress in vaginal outfits,

Give a finger to every young cop

Throw water bottles

At barking Alsatians,

There is nothing to say you must stop.

 

Urinate on the stars and stripes if you want,

Wipe your feet or your ass on the flag,

Smash up a Starbucks

(But don’t expect to get served),

Smash up banks

(Who financed your candidate),

And shout down the scum who you hate.

 

But it won’t make any difference

I can assure you,

The bed in the attic’s still there,

The food stamps will keep on arriving,

And the wind will still blow in your hair.

 

The streets will be cleared in the morning

As sad bitter people disperse,

To the buses and trains and planes waiting,

And the undertaker driving the hearse.

 

 

 

 

 

Good Evening

January 9, 2017 — 1 Comment

4.50 pm Florida 

Shadows stretching

Sunlight waning 

Commuters tweeting

Cops waiting

It’s a sorry State

Of affairs

A place that spends more time

In light 

Than darkness

A young man

Came out of the restrooms

Today at an airport

And as all kinds of people were

Collecting their baggage

He pointed a handgun

At their heads

And one by one he killed them

And as blood spilled from the head

He went over to make sure they were dead

Until there was no breath

And death had taken them

On a flight

From the bloody terminal

Into the next world

On a flight path lined with angels

And stars to guide their souls.

Kids Scalp the Child

January 5, 2017 — 1 Comment

Amazing that some are surprised 

Kids with no faith 

Scalp

Kids with no strength

(Cowering in a corner)

Helpless

Against a world that says

You can’t complain

Because you’re white

The New Year

January 4, 2017 — Leave a comment

I moved from 16 to 17 like a bewildered teen

When the ball slipped down the pole

In a sleek dazzling dance, and I had to get out

of the party

as dates flipped

Because the eyes and wine glasses

turned to me and the new year

2017, started the way the old one ended

In fear and confusion and a need to escape

But nowhere to go

The New year had only begun.

Patience

November 12, 2016 — Leave a comment

When the good in people

Wins the battle

Evil

Will wait

And wait

Until it can strike

 

So let it meander

In Hell’s

Never ending realm

Until it consumes itself

In its own self rendered rage

The Truth

August 30, 2015 — Leave a comment

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