Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Suffering Enduring Urchins

Went to the rally in front of the Israel and USA embassies to support the people of GAZA. Not a bad turn out for Canberra. There were quite a few coppers of various types in riot gear and with tasers and with big hitting sticks and with pistols and with dogs and with cameras. the coppers scared my kids. the whole scene made me proud to live in a democracy. one that has to go to such lengths to protect the REAL terrorists from the people. So i got this old(ish) poem, a rather brutal SALO piece about rulers and priests et al raping and killing children. not a one to one mapping of the situation in GAZA - but close enough and more than most of my poet friends are saying...

We are all in gaza...

I find him 101 pence - dollars - pounds
Sterling effort boys - I seance him
101 years of community service.
Non stop - let 100 enticements bloom.

And the joyceful drudges
And the urchins of dickens
Rush the bench - chanting frothmouth
Flay Him Slay Him

What the Dickens: Flay Him
Drudges are dublin': Slay Him

Stab Him Jab Him Artful thrusting
Of the pelvis.
Drag Him Drug Him Dutch tars high on
Nutmeg jump into the sea.

Like David the urchins scramble after
A hung of corrupt fleshy flesh.
Adultery - Murder - the drudges
Sing out stiffening hands.
King of the Jews Hughson - they
Shout out in unison.

And the Judge General bangs
His rommy guild gavel
This hammer of justice smashes
Into One Million lilting pieces
Refracting Rainbows across the
Whitewashed (to cover the rupture) walls -
((But modern science of assembly can
Detect the splash of watery whey) (No
Matter how bleak or well washed))

Guantanamera - they mock and sing
Forming a Conga Line (Sing Cuban Pete).
Bloodletting Generals, Deceitful Lawyers,
Crooked Politicians, Professors,
Preachers, Advertisers, Capitalists,
Doctors, Managers, Journalists,
Dirty Faced Angels, Keepers of the dishes.
Smoking big fat cigars, Drinking hot sweet
Kill-Devil Liquor, Placing bets
With fat redfaced mafioso...

O Christ, O God, O Fuck my eyes,
The Prime Minster's eyes roll back...
O God Fuck, O Sweet Jesus - the judge ejaculates
Overflowing the arse of artful. The Cardinal
And the Governor each hold one cheek open
The Imam and the Rabbi dance maniacal
Around a table containing the bloody remains
Of the infantata disembowelled the dense inert blade.
Each hand tight around the throat of a young girl.
Shaking the lifeless bodies with delight.
How great is our freedom!!!

They so hate our freedoms we must curtail them
They chant - subjugating with abandon.

So our scene fades to gore,
As does our future?

1 comment:

Brad Green said...

You've a very interesting vigor in your language. It attracts me a great deal. So much of poetry is often a bland spillage of language, as if the poet were afraid to approach the emotional (perhaps many are too aloof?) so it's invigorating to read some that blusters and froths on the page. I'm grabbing your feed.