back of the packet hard to read in this lung light
yr yellowcake smile under the statue, stark leafed
our collective biology, a new kinda sex
this rigid place a grey fade stencil, the bitumen coalface
under the blood n bone
a skyscrapin foreskin, a clitoral beige lace
etched into monument, a sonic altruism
crown-shaped death of language, their sacred halitosis
yr heavy hand between my cardigan legs
i am fitter in those photos, free of enunciation porn
at the station, word had passed - a deep breath
the colted regret, like a jesus christ phrase, bolted
my plastic biceps in rapture, linguistic glee
their 7/11 9/11 fingernail epic, a twin tower menstrual fable
the controller against my skin shudders like editorial eyebrow
we breathe each others’ exorcism
we got white blisters, a pissing rash
an open source helmet panic
we used our painted bodies as shields, a daisy cutter festival
at tailings dam mountain we soak, the red dust a comical stance – a black sun exists, she said
how many parts per billion does it take to change a light globe, sing it
we breathe...we breathe...we breathe, say it
my stubble a static rainbow, a political mirror – this cushionism
ive been contemplating alcoholism
small uranium grains ignite spontaneously in air at room temperature
we breathe stars and dinosaurs here my brother
inhale this brady bunch ringtone, breathe breathe breathe
allanboyd - november 08, in response to maitland
19 November 2008
06 November 2008
Bakery Rant
and here we are now in this baked convergence of brittle bodies
in this sacred place of deliberate rock and new-skool artifice
all the red-dirt business and radical glitter and bronze medals
of apathetic bravery, this metaphor to the corporate slavery
we're waving hands at a vainglorious nebulous democracy
the birthright of a billion losers - we're shocked at this
and we raise our many skinny fists at the thick dead sky
at this global moment - a fascinator, a tool, a distraction
an excuse not to wake, not to imagine another world
is possible, here - in this room - right here right now
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
we run, we run, we run and hide our money in turgid mattresses
of economic disparity without thought for the battle-cry
of colour and heart and guts and flyers, flyers, flyers for change
yes we slice these kids into ribbons of confusion
with no recognition for the guerilla manifestos
and yr mental condition an addiction to the death:
another house, another car, another card, another grave
we give our resource pleasure to the man in the deserted places
with no recourses for the buried bodies
the trees - the rocks - the sand - the wind - the rush of wealth
of mouthfuls of money money money…
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
hey hey hey, lets dig a hole for the two-three-eight,
the two-three-eight, the two-three-eight…
lets drape this million-year old concrete flag over the bones
of my mouth, of yr mouth
of his and hers matching flag tattoos
on the scarborough shores we fight and flex,
kick sand in the faces of each other
and render all those less patriotic than us
on this beach - under this footpath - a river once ran
the slogan shit of kiss the flag or die
fuck off we're full
of racist cowards
not sittin on the fence - I'm tearin it down
not grabbin at the wretched throat of this town
not reachin for the end - of this radical sentence
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
antipoet - allan boyd
november 6, 2008
performed as 'sacrificial poet' at the WA final of the National Poetry Slam
also read by subaware with blac blocs following the slam...
in this sacred place of deliberate rock and new-skool artifice
all the red-dirt business and radical glitter and bronze medals
of apathetic bravery, this metaphor to the corporate slavery
we're waving hands at a vainglorious nebulous democracy
the birthright of a billion losers - we're shocked at this
and we raise our many skinny fists at the thick dead sky
at this global moment - a fascinator, a tool, a distraction
an excuse not to wake, not to imagine another world
is possible, here - in this room - right here right now
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
we run, we run, we run and hide our money in turgid mattresses
of economic disparity without thought for the battle-cry
of colour and heart and guts and flyers, flyers, flyers for change
yes we slice these kids into ribbons of confusion
with no recognition for the guerilla manifestos
and yr mental condition an addiction to the death:
another house, another car, another card, another grave
we give our resource pleasure to the man in the deserted places
with no recourses for the buried bodies
the trees - the rocks - the sand - the wind - the rush of wealth
of mouthfuls of money money money…
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
hey hey hey, lets dig a hole for the two-three-eight,
the two-three-eight, the two-three-eight…
lets drape this million-year old concrete flag over the bones
of my mouth, of yr mouth
of his and hers matching flag tattoos
on the scarborough shores we fight and flex,
kick sand in the faces of each other
and render all those less patriotic than us
on this beach - under this footpath - a river once ran
the slogan shit of kiss the flag or die
fuck off we're full
of racist cowards
not sittin on the fence - I'm tearin it down
not grabbin at the wretched throat of this town
not reachin for the end - of this radical sentence
lets ride the waves - lets catch the sun
lets sell the house - lets buy a gun
lets hit the street - lets shift the mode
lets touch our skin - do it in the road
lets rip at the fence - lets hammer the walls
lets kick at the door - lets get insured
lets fix the thing - lets shout at god
lets eat the dead - lets wake up wake up
antipoet - allan boyd
november 6, 2008
performed as 'sacrificial poet' at the WA final of the National Poetry Slam
also read by subaware with blac blocs following the slam...
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