Saxe-Coburg-Gotha party

adult presenters looked so silly going

yipee

Katie and willie  are gonna marry

and Harry's in Afghanistan, as he's such a man that other men should follow him

If you're too wise , then perhaps your children

and while their blood's spilling

Little Ginger'll sit like cattle
with his body-guards

grazing far from the battle, memorising such spin as

'These boys are incredibly brave'

And on the home front we've learnt from world war, that one must nurture the patriotism of the poor,

the uneducated and the naive

With more tricks up their sleeves than they need manage

the ruling elite sold the romantics a marriage

shovelled them gaiety and fed them youth

sticking with the name Windsor instead of the truth

Katie endorses the rag trade and Willie's the figurehead

of customised totalitarian control of the plebs

Now each pleb has a vote and they want to be lead

so they slept on the cold pavement for nigh on a week

 outside 600 rooms of buckinham' fuckin'em

Kate's night was in a  hotel 

Five grand

pleb's tab

so in a chorus of lemmings they could wave a flag

and the queen's expression could've captioned

' who's bad

I haven't smelt such serfdom since my son married that slag'

In Victorian times they'd have each got a loaf of bread

but we'll give the plebs a pleb day off work instead

So the lords lord it and you lot applaud it though you cant afford it,

You work for a pittance  and they paraded the lot

Please explain your subservient alliegance...to what !!

Windsors DID  lounge in it. And you WERE and are fleeced.

and those who opposed it were heavily policed.

Their gatherings barred from democratic free speech.

Tube workers DIDN'T strike and they weren't told twice.

cause those boys are being  marketed like the return of Miami Vice.

God forbid Harry's Tubbs and his brother , Jesus Christ

Even the horses were groomed to quote ' within an inch of their lives'

The air force were choreographed

and one thousand military

the cavalry fanfare of

silver plated trumpets

five thousand police

SAS

and the navy

yeoman of the guard and

the bells of st pauls

with a field officer escort

through  the catalyst of a makeshift journalist's village

where 8.ooo reporters eclipsed world epidemics

taking 600 quid a day to stylise the message

cause the one percent elite couldn’t exist without support

they made sure that everything Sky tv sold the world bought

And one of them reports that though we're not australian

the polls down under have just veered from republicanism

due to

history's most ostentatious gorefest of riches

condeming a royal distant cousin to becoming one of their bitches
prompting more defects that the Bowes-Lyon sisters

Now she mightn't know what she's in for but fuck it she'll learn.

If he doesn't impregnate her they'll extract his sperm.

Or get some-one else's like his brother's dad, Hewitt.

He's a ringer for the ginger and the public always knew it

At westminster.

The house of kings in the city centre

which ordinarily cost sixteen pounds just to enter

Nordically gothic

adorned in the profits

more blood stained flags than crucifixes

would be more appropriately represented with three sixes

I digress

Here's my interpretation of what Willie said

'With mummy's ring I hereby thee wed. Now remember , she ended up brown bread.

So play the game, button it and be a good girl and the taxpayers will supply you with the keys to the world.

Now that's your life sorted so always look empathetic. They've got the ball rolling in the media racket'

and lucky for  some , she's as dumb as they come

and doesn't do work so that works alright; (Smirk) !

And counter balancing what his genetics might lack

they scanned her  family's health history ; no haemophiliacs

           

Kate responded

' I promise to honour and obey;

your gran

 and the syndicate

and to thee bare at least one son

An heir

and one spare

but if I only breed girls

(Lets not even go there)'

It was a hundred million quid, no tax spared private affair

so no drama, no Obama and no Tony blair

It's a market for the next generation and we reckon, Elton John's getting on

so they invited the Beckhams

singing

This is the day the lord hath made

which raised the serfs applauding

maybe the police divers under the britannia for the kids piss-up felt it rewarding 

 as  they become superstars

freeloading the bazaar

If maintaining trading links

as good will ambassadors befits

then so's the half a mill spunked on the wedding of Zara Phillips

and God save our dynasty

North South East West

NORTHERNER

A northern cunt they call me

An artful dodger you couldn't trust

with a loaf of bread

cause I'd flog the crust

and flag down a taxi instead of a bus

and then just for fun

instead of pay;

run

to my mate's

Arthur Daley of synthetic fur

a visionary in a cloth cap

An entrepreneur

SOUTHERNER

You till the soil

You toiled and toiled

At 04.30 the kettle boiled

Salt of earth

you reap the spoils

and hanker for the simplest

EASTERNER

Your soul moans through emptied eyes

Your gaze defies the tapestry of life

Like a warrior married to a celibate wife

It takes a want to roll a dice

and make of thought reform

a vice

WESTERNER

Father time and sister fate

imposed on you so they could mate

Took your prose that took you years to cultivate

Now you cry to the lord

like it's for heaven's sake

when it's all about you

and the point at which you'll break

My sister's hair

Show me an Afro on
a sister and I flow so , she knows I've missed her since black is beautiful became old hat
as if loving your really self ain't all that

As blaxploitation became relaxploitation
feasts of weaves or a clumped on hair piece
descended to butter knives and bacon grease
to the hot iron comb to acid,
 as assimilation ,
became imitation ;  became homage

through  added fractions of chain re-actions

MTV recognises
self esteem as  a have not's dream to market research
and improvises
regulating  not your class but how much attention you'd pay to blur the details

I had a tear that became pools for each strand of your hair that died in fried spools of outcast molecules
degraded behind a paradox of semantics
Like ;going natural and ; good hair and free...style and ..……… relaxed
 as in to be relieved of the burden of living

That's why it burns your scalp and that's why it's itching
 see  you can't just kill god
Take heed. She cries when she bleeds
And sometimes she resents you challenging  her strength
when making you buff is not enough
She's crying for you but she's hurting too
because only god knows what you're going through

My eyes are as woeful as the lynchmob's noose creaking branches of an unrefined crucifix cradling the prefix of status  above pursed lips of daffodils,  licking the last palpitated drop of sweat from your predecessor's twitching shell
The unpeturbed foetus of capitalism
as relaxed as my sister's hair

 Ghosts hum  the  rythmn of the pendulumming
 wailing  a home coming
till plankton shy from morning
And as  day brightens the noose tightens
and the  re-juvenating deth of 500  million sister's hair laments in creaking bows and the souls of wide eyed babies contracted into  lucifer's tarrif; the western   production of corpses 

See it ain't about me and it ain't about you
It's about the Hiroshimic indiscrimination of anhilation
It's about the punitive right to eroticise and gorge the produce of an ivory coast farmed by brutalised labour
It's about somebody being somebody
And walking a rabbit proofed fence
Its about the ecstatic beauty of one cell parading on duty because you made it through and returned to you
and  yan couldn't complete yin without the G
It's about raising your head cause you. Ain't ded

You are an organic  cathedral of art cerebrally torn apart
with a  defunct
void of the funk
dunked in funk of factory spunk
D I Y
fake I.d
Bashment attachment
perched on the head of a queen whose prominence is circumstancially inconsequential

If it cascades it'll  welcome rain
but starched into a mold of nomadic grunge
as stll as arctic waterfalls
splintered  with  pick-axes of thrill seeking aliens
IT'S SHIT ! clinging  with glue like a sapless ivy stapled  to her unloved brow
plastic prop riveted
sailor's rope wrenched in a lynchmobs knot
waiting for a wink from the sun that'll never come
diming her light

My sister's hair bowed lower than the dilapidated gardens of Babylon
hiding under the skirt-tails of the shameless
As if there'd ever be sanctuary in the interim of apocalypse
instead of fallout from it's seemless dough like re-constituted embers from the pyres of genocides

Bloated daffodils  seared into asphalt as parking lines and she wears r&b  in a world iconising girls camouflaged  under chains of off-loaded  rubbish from salon
floors of  India and China investing in the motherland

Sisterhood ethics don't a realistc image make
a human chain couldn't infrige on an earthquake
nor a holocaust  subside your highways
or dissilusion the waters that excite the living forests of your body and the royal caverns of your mind
You can no more still the enchantment of micro-organisms
 circumnavigating your body  in oval dance patterns of your chromosomes
than you can ex communicate the melanin nestled in your milk

CHAOS

I jumped through your skin and out of  your vest
I go by the monarch civil unrest

I'm flavour of the month
The tone of the hour
that's me they're calling when they  shout. 'fight the power'

I'm the underbelly that had to flush defecating  acids
Irrigating  claustrophobic gasses that were supposed to pacify me and the masses 
after vivisection I'm the vilest nihilist

Welcome to  insurrection;

                                              

I'm the fermented gold of downtrodden souls
Proposing to depose those eloping with utopia
I am a kaleidoscope of unbridled hopes 
I'm the immaterial materialised in defiance of big bad guys with little white lies or little white guys with big bad lies and a hefty foot size
I am the marginalised uncompromised ; an abstract ;  becoming a matter of fact with fractious impact

I am chaos
I am consential treason,
having trod both lanes of a forked tongue and doubled back to wrench out tonsils
hailing 'justice just is' : re-claiming my abandonment in wrath: patent of God whose son championed the ragamuffin tantrum                                                            

Read Matthew 21 verse 12 or Gospel of John

Don't mistake hibernating with hesitating
I'm the internal scream waking the dreamer
I need only to reach the surface to breath despite the commitee of seniors
I am  anarchistic  vengeance at the button
I am  diametric symmetry parallel to bluffing

All's been said  when I'm done and a black rash of back lash permeates the judgement of the stunned striking tv audiences dumb at the outcome dominating peripherals with my illustrations of  beautiful illusions

The potently nurtured
supremely executed
most eloquent existentialism
re-decorating  panoramic horizons  in the proclamation of my blossom

I was conceived in the violation of  integrity
and evolved to the most profound host of sound solidifying shock waves

My measurements are mass multiplied by velocity over
unfiltered indignation equal to the square root of annihilation
aka social combustion
obtaining unorthodox domains in evolving time pockets by
subverting servitude in various three dimensional juxtapositions deconstructing yesterdays

I rain on your guards in their reign.
liberated from the antiquated veil of avante guard
En guard

Facing journalistic spy cameras amd tv scanners
I evoke the damnation  of scriptures
TAKE fucking  pictures
I look like  hell and feel like pure heaven
I oversaw the vows of genesis and armageddon at the devils  wedding
laughing with this hilarious polygamist

He ordained me the eighth sin
Me, the sober  foetus of  intoxicated utopias
and the bastard afterbirth of its incest , employed in  my own mid-wifery
I adorn myself in the fission of atoms crystallising soliloquies of napalm babies

My unloved  angels 
hot air
SUCKED in the perpetuation of elevated mind states de-stabilise  pieces of designed peace
humming the expedience of  disobedience in  piranha formation as reaction to provocation
The biggest threat totalitarianism ever met,  in the lifestyle of liquid nitrogen

My heart is the spurned organ of  organisations
eclipsed by the degradation of motherless wombs
I step-father the headless flock
sending them outdoors to go run amok

Their cry is naked ; celebrating the universal language of free will
free of possession free of restraint free of order and liberated from the noun , freedom
wherein the annunciation of everything culminates  in the accumulation of  nothing
See I'm Flexible as
Move like jazz.
Percussion
highly recommended
No fussing
intellect imploding
Riot..

From here to eternity

Our democracy is so great that there's an imbalance of weight where one percent owns more and more in an ever expanding disparity with the poor peaking in the zenith of civilisation

Our free market  economics so cool it  comes behind a gun though a tool can't rule

nor can the national debate generate weight when it's shelf life is as innate as high st high brow for
calibrated consumers sucking on soundbites

Capitalism hijacked you with a greed so complete that after sucking fate dry it spat out the seed and the west was won
You
Sir
got done !
Then hate adopted the seed of my fate veering  blindly trying to find me
Fate had got lost because , 
Even I didn't know where I was

 I'd been looking in the mirror
where I'd seen this man
with a questful soul
He had a Mirror in his hand
But  no  baggage no witness and  nowhere to go
So I  went physically everywhere 
Coaching him myself on how to grow
 
His relative experience is a finite block of time
When all I have is here withinn
as thus  therefore be thine
And all he fought with warrior steed
E'en testing the face of love as though
that not reciprocated in signature never was
it's crusade bore his ever guiding star
Setting ablaze his blood
against generic prescription

Nemesis-less 
but for traits of greed
beyond its cantankerous  bait of needs from survival's ancestral gene
I cut my teeth before the workbench of songs
And where friendship bore a trojan invoice
bit the skin off of faithfull clouds                                                         
and trailed the eternal knot
across infested carnage and inebriated  debris
to coastlines of 
cherry picked sands

There he sipped fresh  rain 
while wading a  tea green  sea
and in murkiness of silt beheld a prescence of me
all battles
amounting to one
and only then
Fates work being done
I'd tip my hat
granted a soliloquy  of peace
and settle my bill 
as an overture decreased

It's nearly over ain't it

I really looked in the mirror when I saw you
Your narrowing fingers
neck a fission of shallow valleys poured down to your collar bone
and splashed across the territory of your frame like wild forest roots
Ego stooped in its wilted star-ship

And bumping into you at Sainsburys supposed topics of who passed away last week and which of the old pack's children met an unfortunate fate and who lost their minds when tarot cards of time dropped face up and how many out of focus ghosts who may have shared our school playground ought now, in your chapter of delicate maintenance , to know your acquaintance because all you are is all you ever were before you became who you've been
but its nearly over and scraping the barrel's understandable

Ain't it
And where a pale horse grazes outside
your dinner party memoirs are fermenting into obituary
Cause medical trips are precursor to
them shoveling handfuls of soil on you with its gravity wrenching the strained ducts of your kids eyes

and after a few words they'll be moving on
You've had your turn
you've been and gone