Showing posts with label street poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label street poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Street Poetry.

        I often spout that a poem can say more than a large book. It can condense and yet magnify events, feelings, and ideas into a phrase or a line. I received this from a comrade, thanks Andy, it says it all, the misery, injustice, brutality, repression, inequality, anxiety and stress, of this insane system we live under.  
 
Street poetry fae Dundee
FREE THINKING
Someone got abused and it's you that gets the blame
Weirdo cracks, and snide remarks. To tell you your not the same.
As bingo, soap, and clubby folk, who s labour gives them hope,Who live their lives, like the dance of flies. Whilst drinking in their smoke.

the powers that be, say there,s war , your children flock to fight, The chocked dry words that mask the fact, their death's the ultimate sacrifice.
How old is young Billy there, he looks a strapping lad,
Make sure he joins the chosen few, in the footsteps of his dad
And if he survives he,ll get to march, with worthless medals, to the cenotaph.

the watchers, watch your freedom, concerned about your health.
All you want, desire, or crave, is sitting on a shelf.
The prison population, is as healthy as can be,
The courts are working overtime, to keep your freedom free.
So pay your debt and pay your tax, and forget the powers that be. Leave them to do there job, to tell you that you're free

if you need another crutch. You,ve always got your church,
That will guarantee you,ll never die, believe in us we never lie,
But you must remember, to give them all your cash,
Or the top man in heaven, won't see their wealthy rash.
Nor golden goblets, raised in praise, the best of wine no aftertaste,
The pious followers of the faith have heaven on their mind,
The same as the thieving prison,who are serving out there time.

insurance is a business, copied from the church,
Selling you salvation, they know your a soft touch,
The banker sells you money. With slimey bloodsoaked hands,
He makes a tidy living, from our loss and pain and harm,
He,ll be the first to advertise the country should re arm,
To finance strife,makes up his life, and profit margins rife.
With the corpses of his shady deals, and desperate people with no meals.

The breaking news, of procesded views, will feed you all their fear,
The media slant. Of the current rant. Is directed straight at you
Watch out for knives, and hooded youth's, and computers that steal your lively hood.

Don't drink smoke, nor crack a joke, about a religion that's not yours
Don't eat too much. And wash your hands, and give generously to the poor,
Save energy and save the trees,save all the creatures in the seas,
And save your childrens, children's from likes of you and me.

The freedom that we,re looking for, is locked up in our minds,
The key's that free our freedom, are guarded by a fear that binds,
We dare not follow a different path, for fear of fear,s been planted here by the civilisers wrath.
The moral ways, of our living days, are not about free will,
Obey the educators and keep on standing still.
Free thinking men and women are at liberty to think,
But must keep their thoughts in closets, in case they cause a stink.
The written word was written for the likes of you and me,
The only thing it fails to state, is that it will never set you free
Andy Duncan.
Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk