12 October 2006

welcome my sisters and my brothers

welcome my sisters and my brothers,

here in this thick n festy blistered saturday night post bluelight type night, our voices gathered in slung tones.

we lick together the painted sounds of a cluttered humanity, a radical insanity, a corporate monstrosity - this september nine or eleven fluorescence.

and all hell can't stop us now... lights out lights out...

the token slice of a massive broken Sony hack - like remixing the shards of her skull at the global village idiot's door - the slower child a bloodied pulp. the stunning tank mud at her feet. her munted screams - a helicopter gunship strafe. rapid. a timid salute. a blunt machete. khaki. skin. blood. a media cycle dissipation. a violent nothingness. another product

all hell can't stop us now all hell can't stop us now...

and hey once again these bakery lights - feelin' all planetary, coz the spring red n green cans and the silver guitar breezes lift the tone like this. and we taxed our eager fossil fuelled errors, the global dimming - my warm baggy-faced rhetoric, a panda squad of random flaccid plastic cats in this room all scratchin at the door of numb flickering silent violence

got a short short memory, must have a, short memory...

a tru-blue wait awhile apology from jesus - i gave. a red wine stain, his shroud a festered gown. we slept together in the prodigal suns of winter, a brief kansas moment, like spinifex fires at the ridge - my heels a click away. the seven sisters dreaming. an iron-topped desecration.

Shall steam up like inspiration, Eloquent, oracular; A volcano heard afar

and in the streets candlelight, my mouth against yrs, this meal the lips of my body - a metal moisturised canvas. and tonight ours is a sceptic remedy, like a karl marx doll at the ancient desert edges - a typical racial posing. wound up on an incestuous nobility - a touring band commodity - a reality. a reality. a reality

a short memory, must have a, short memory. must have a, short memory...

all the great grey tunnels are like that; the concrete glass transformer god-cocks, a friday 5pm uber glare - a clever traffic incident, a massive eyelash fetish, 3 metre red font at the lights - this vulgar moment of us

although nothing seems right - in cars... in cars... in cars

so i'm this rapid onset climate belt, i'm a transient collared political metaphor for change - i am, he said - i am i am i am he said - a man in a crocodile hunter suit of spastic gay words - spitting at yr ear i am i am i am - and my rebirth eyes are a sacred trance - never reborn as the same repackaging, a modified colour - our beautiful all-new logo lives we live at the bitumen skank - a tragedy of the suburban commons.

short memory must have a... lights out... car...

i'm here in my car. and look! in yr seat at the post, yr arms folded in stoic bewilderment, look at you, you can almost hear the salt cancer breathe. yet my vaginal descriptions of nuclear capital, the menstrual shifts beneath yr fingers, the fabric stretches, wet taut tears... the stubble rips in our car.

and here and there and here and here...

on you the auras splash of direct mental action, in broken chairs and rented fast fast cars and satellite phones we abort and regroup on the Northern highways, empty. no cargo of freedoms tonight, no drunken chants at the freeze-dried traffic. no colours no preservatives. just razor wire and asbestos utopias

no no we won't: no no we won't: no no we won't...

because we don't care - not in this car. this air-conditioned mind filter of steel and glass - this car. a petrochemical canvas farce. baby its not my turn to dismantle brick by fucking brick the impulse shelves of vapid, rancid colour. to swallow this shopping centre testosterone, my unbeaten uneaten unlabelled flesh

all hell can't stop us now lights out

but my blistered summer like feet the black ground sprint to the sand, the rising oceans swell. the glazed eye squeals - chasing shadow island pads and products. at the bustop of dominant culture.

And Gary Numan said from the tinny tiny mouth - Here in my car I feel safest of all - I can lock all my doors It's the only way to live - In cars - Here in my car I can only receive - I can listen to you It keeps me stable for days - In cars - Here in my car Where the image breaks down - Will you visit me please? If I open my door - In cars - Here in my car I know I've started to think - About leaving tonight Although nothing seems right

In cars... In cars

lights out


"...And these words shall then become
Like Oppression's thundered doom
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Heard again - again - again -

'Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number -
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few.'... - Shelley

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