Monday, 18 February 2008

THE LEGACY

I'm in love with the pain of the city.
Her loneliness dances before me begging to be seen,
for she can no longer bare to look at herself.
The short fused modern solutions can no longer hold sway.
Her children are rotting with infection brought on by a plague of apathy.
Her gilded statues once arrogant with pride
are now choking on the fumes of a cities misery.
The urban artist's tag the skyline with a territorial pissing.
Doe eyed taxpayers huddle empty and lost in fast food queue's like junkies.
"Go large to get an inconveniently convenient unhappy meal,
free with every soul" an ad whispers.
Yet another mainline fix to an inter (city) net.
The cleavage induced short skirt blur of lads mag slag.
The retro metro rebel, immaculately imperfect, I-Stepping around his I-universe.
All floating on plasticated, fabricated, pixelated rhythms.
Mobile beats, bass in your seats, back of the bus, bruv.
The melodies of contemporary dysentery sound tracking your life.
Truth gasp's at the wantonly gyrating ism of capital-jism
and the ease in which it fucks the social ovulating greed.
Do empty promises leave a nasty stain where you were wooed
by the pillow talk of the new God?
Your isolation is in violation of the code on human existence
and in haste you waste away your grains of sand.
No quick fix can mend your fears my dears, we are living in a fantasy.
Sub-urban tears rain down on you each day
and the window of time eats you from the inside out
with a relentless, cancerous hunger.
ATTENTION: A non-military coo propaganda warning-
'Please check your food and water as it has been infused
with a digitally enriched anti-impressive mis-information depressive
and beware of contamination or you will vanish in this illusion'.
The numbed millennium ape looks on indifferently, just another war on terror,
the remote will remain in control, flicking from one lie to another.
All the while leaders of the free world peer down from their ivory tower.
They stare at us, they glare through us, trying to intimidate us
with the anger of an inner city kid.
But who is scared of who?
They look but cannot see, they listen but cannot hear but boy they can talk.
Verbalizing promises for new and improved, free radical, age reducing social suicide.
Yet another human traffic jam man, wearing your patience thin.
Information congestion clogging the instinct highways.
Everything must happen now, now, now, right fucking now.
Prime time oppression, nicotine obsession, tabloid infestation.
Do you feel dirty and used, spiritually abused, morally confused?
Plugged into a prescribed nation on manic vacation?
D.I.Y incubation and object fixation sets us adrift in the here and now and the whatever.
Gasoline Vaseline lubes the sodomy of a social lobotomy.
Do we have autonomy with no hidden charges and an apr of 0% until 2012.
Of course, don't pay now pay later, forever and ever and ever.
I'm in love with the pain of the city.
Her loneliness dances before me begging to be seen,
for she can no longer bare to look at herself, anymore.

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