FLAT LAND
Slither across the flat land, mortgaged to the maze, customers of the little gods under the minister’s gaze, we can cut across the landscape in a web of open veins, as he fingers and fondles the best of what remains
Let’s rummage to unearth all the sacred places, we’ll be conquerers of the secret spaces, to poke a cheaper hole, squeeze a deeper breath, trampling ancient havens to a crippled brown death
Smell the pure turpentine flames screech and burn, stone rivers crack, virgin forest gone, buckling and bending to unending demand, blasted into the rising seas for more flat land
Strip and drill and force our way, shaft the native claim, classify the poverty, manipulate the shame, so long medicated, that the Dreaming barely breathes, so damned threatened by what everyone receives
Squirm with me in the flat land, tethered to the cage we can rip across our innocence in open rage, and all lie down, panting under our master’s chains, as he fingers and fondles the dregs of our remains
EVERYTHING FALLS
I’m Generation Regulation, born of economic rationalisation, self-serving, by fundamental justification, I’m standard issue for globalisation, I’m a world set to capitalise, to incorporate and dehumanise, I’m a sweatshop drone for enterprise, for neo-liberals to sodomise. Bipartisan, bipolarisation, advertising for socialisation, I’m a pharmaceutical population, genetically encoded for manipulation
Everything falls, there’s hardly a breath,
We’re staggering to get to where there’s anything left
“Consumption is vital to the policy” but the mercury is rising in an over-acid sea, the West antarctic ice sheet’s broken free and Kyoto’s drowning in ecology. Farewell the tropical rainforests now, Kilimanjaro’s finally bare of snow, fish float in carbonic acid oceans, alpine flowers choke on toxic gas emissions. Earthquakes, tidal waves, I wonder who the money saves? Carbon dioxide is cooking us to death, oil suppliers take a bow, which horizon next?
Everything falls, there’s hardly a breath,
We’re slaughtering to get to where there’s anything left
World Trade organisation, dealing Arms to 3rd world nations, iradication by corporate invasion of the lowest paid workers in the industrial civilisation. 50,000 women and kids SOLD! in US slavery…. someone better come on down ‘cause Greed is tryin’ to saviour me
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ENTRAPMENT
…again draws the blind, cooing softly
“Come away, what good can ever come of such strange desires?”
Withdrawing fully within the left side of hope, bannered dreams scorched, my naked seeds spill there in ugly crimes, dirtied, soiled by lusts and hungers that stalk in electric shudders slaking me to flacidity until the top of my blunt head, hums and crawls, in a seizure of rebellion; to not ever conform, to break rank, to wither and bleak, escape the game, bald within a false and desperate freedom
A LETTER from MAGDALENE to KHADIJAH
Dandled in the maze of faded and ailing gardens, blinded by the phantasm, we are awed by glittering monuments to his touted stories, so laden within a crumbling paradise.
Mulled, twittering, honeyed by distractions, when did we turn away, disengaged? Hovering, this vigilance is vainglorious until we meet, suffering our same flesh hungers. Hearing my brittle screech for justice, wearing your desperate bid for my silence, I cower in fear of desert winds across your face, And we are dusted by this disparate device. Who is seer to breaks and veins within? Are we lost in the lip-seams of the times? What days have I not wandered, calling for you to bend to my bridal step?
Here, now, I am fragrant, clear as the myrrh that cried out for all our lost rains, in solid tears, reaping the endless heat of my eyes, yet I know my mother’s sweat and her blurred outline. Deafness is ever-present, it is in me, I am altered by it’s after glow. Wary of your fears, my power is dreadful, and I am stilled, silent in the roar… Roses on the path, we are shackled to the wall, dreaming of a new moon somewhere so deep in the well, I see your eyes and they are mine.
I have heard that we must not see, but, oh, we are such lonely daughters of Eve. I am so afraid of your dark visage, terrified by the blackness of your living death, and if you bear that raven, your suffocation is a poison upon my joy. How are you alive inside that blanket of night? I am glossed, boldly waxed, imprisoned, they say, by a sexual gluttony, and I am enslaved by the privilege of so much light. I worked so hard for the right to lever the whitegoods game, until my white western credit was cocked and fully loaded, if I am legalised whore, devilishly blessed by a piston of trust in my raw flesh then I must also show you that my teeth are bared.
Climb into my arms, they are so fully empty, so third-world-dependant, that I sicken for your secrets, to know your labours, your whisperings, I hunger for the sight of you, desperate to know the grit of my own worth
BABYLON
You Lenders, colder than lifeless Zion, I have turned my face away, I have salted you in scorn as you bleated loud and vain. Just as Valuers, vile corruptors of Light, you are blinded, as if terror was thy spirituality, thine sacred right to bind all Life in such famine of Charity from Syndicates who proudly feast upon bones as candle-lit conspirators, you pray in costly tatters of the holy gloom for Palestine to weep her blood away.
Yet, your Victims suffer longest and loud, hotter than heaven’s counterpart to greed and grub at Jerusalem as you wail my walls apart, so that Developers, mortgaging your mother’s soul can auction the glorious spheres until my Garden burns with a pestilence that mighty Armageddon fears.
