by antipoet - performed at la tropicana cafe
voicebox readings, fremantle 05.02.04
[to be read with gusto]
standing here
in this room
on this night
in this concrete bunker harbour
on the edge of an island nation divided to fear of compassion and greed and hyper-security and the borders of dissent are pushing into the dry bleeding sphincter of popular alcoholic-biscuit culture
and the children of the mothers and the fathers of the parents of the fled and persecuted are locked in the razor-wire islands of the right-wing production-line fear-manufacturers of minimum political/sovereign risks to corporate filth plans.
and i'm raving in this space about the end of a feel-good chocolate era of the subjugation of a people of a culture of a minor chord fiasco a bass-burp choir of burden like a burning tower collapsing in rubble at the feet of a bloated gargantuan rape machine.
a fuck-your-culture-is-better-than-mine mentality and i'm crying into the carpet of this train as the steel squeal bites my cold brain-fuck crack.
and i said FUCK you and the primitive tools of the tools of the wheels of the removal of texture of tactile life of roots and flesh and to eat the plastic coated titanium freshness you use to shift the dead infertile jungles into correctional cages
and the rare-scorched earth sand into nice-font-man pages of glossy covered university childrens new-idea pop-up books about denial of political expression and my active voice is a representational vomit slicks like spit in your sour-breath mouth.
but er hey, wake UP!
coz i'm a plastic bag denial and a social recluse fighting fighting fighting
the resistance to shame...
and did you realise that
I AM
you
and the little voice you deny each day each second the pressure of molecular fragments of hate-suppression and the love-dreams you have in night-sweats between sheets made in places designed by the fatlands extracting maximum profit without any form of real resistance, like an apathetic centre of detention in deserts of this island or licking the hot thick viagra shaft of the oil-rich uranium whore.
and here your bowser-stench headrush slurps the freshest chemicals into your dull march to robot-shiny- shiny-land in glitter places we meet and grind in muddled as-seen-on-TV stupor between fucking interest rate reports they huddle in the shadows of the guilt-fences we erect in our minds in the streets on the coasts of the dwindling forests to keep out the truth the truth the truth out the truth the truth the truth out the truth the truth the truth out the truth the truth the truth out the truth the truth the truth the and nothing but the stretched botox human face and heart of what the fuck it is i am SAYING.
and i am you. i am you and you and you and you and you and those guys and him and her and that baby and all the dead and the infected generations to come as the production of poison and pain - the diaspora of everything.
of yours and mine i speak in this ruptured space and time and physical limitations of media representation swallowing this token appreciation for word sleuth techno-chasms
denying meaning on a gross misunderstanding of reality perception
of white pride manifesto, peeling back the layers of racist ideology; of denial of human culture
of oceans of blood of refugees
and hitler was a fucking scar on the plight of evolution
and here we are now in this busted rape of a country
hiding in cells of consumer price index fear
and products without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning withouout mt meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning witheaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaning eaning without meaning without meaning without meaning without meani without meg without meaning with witeahout meaning without meaning without meaninngg outmehaning without mning without meanin ing meaning g witaninwithout mhout without meaning w ut meaning without meaning without meaning wit meaning without eg without meaning without mean withhoutout meaning wito mithout meaning without meaning without meaning without mingeaning without meanianinng without meaning without meaning withoean without meaning without meaning without meaning without meaut mning without meaning...
and i sell my body for vacuous monotony in prisons of break-dancing popes and salination crust skin.
antipoet5feb04
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