I can’t tell you
what I’m seeing, groups of
thug youths, with real,
sex and violence on their minds,
all over me
hitting shop windows with
a toddlers drum, perfectly contained
“Beautiful Bitches’ spat from one
of the innocents
looking for all the action they can handle,
the street out side mcdonalds, as mainstream as it can get
all greed, violence and misogyny, celebrated in a kind of end of the world
social groupings, the litteralisation of different tv channels
manifest as groups of people. young people cut off, alone with all of it
let to sit spewing in space, in a helmet.
And why not, let it all be.
I see them, see our programs aped mocked and swum in.
All us solders at camp
waiting to be shipped out
to nameless slaughter
on behalf of a name equally submitted to
and remain voicelessed.
Ships to pull up, pull out this crop, whores sluts and violent producers brimming with over flowing froth.
to throw up like a cloud of dust signifying nothing, nothing here
but the very heart of the matter,
seeing won’t be the test of it
this has gone on far to complicated
instead everything just working out