1. |
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The opposite of cop is not robber;
the opposite of cop is the tree that surrenders its fruit to the starlings and mould.
The opposite of Zen is umbrella.
(Keep your eyes on the road, Veronica)
Can’t you see it? The path to the garden
where our enemies are planted.
(Can’t you see it, Veronica?
Keep your eyes on the road!)
Hey comedian
The jokes had better be good, cos they’ll put us away
If anyone squeals
(Keep your eyes on the path, Veronica)
Welcome to history.
(Keep your eyes on the road.
You’ll get us all killed.)
Merry Christmas, Fascists,
merry Christmas, my neighbours and friends.
Enjoy the fire
Enjoy the fire
The opposite of peace is not slaughter—
the opposite of peace is before, it’s the part where nobody moves.
Now we sleep in the corners
(Keep your eyes on the path, Veronica.)
Do you feel their heavy mitts around you?
The finger trailing wetly down your spine—
can’t you feel it?
(Keep your eyes on the path, Reginald)
Merry Christmas, Fascists.
Merry Christmas, my neighbours and friends.
Enjoy the fire.
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2. |
Prison Architect
06:44
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3. |
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|
I’m healthy—
so healthy I must be sick,
like a hick who refuses to fluoridate his water.
All my friends are on meds,
while I stride through life like a simpering doll.
I gotta cataract,
it’s there for a reason:
a milky film of self-preservation.
I’ll only lift it for a mother standing in the frigid green light of a fiord.
If you turn your eyes right around one day
and stare back into your own skull
you’ll see tiny startled baby monkey
chewing on a rancid tangerine peel
Sparks shoot from my skull
but the juice of my brain
falls like useless rain on a sodden field
There are jugs and jugs of government drugs
to keep you strapped to some kind of mainmast.
But the pull of the sea is not some perversion.
Babies hold their breath for a reason.
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4. |
Jamboree
04:26
|
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|
(There’s a crust, a jamboree of snot
Encrusted in my nostril)
I felt bad when I smashed an apple into Ricky’s face
but he deserved it. He deserved it.
I wonder where he is now?
I hope he looks back and feels ashamed,
cos sometimes I look back and feel ashamed of things that I’ve done.
Primeval violence dealt out by country kids on the back of a bus.
Speeding on the gravel with bald tyres,
driven by a grieving widower on minimum wage.
Somewhere out there there’s a venereal disease with your name on it.
Haven’t you got a burning barn to visit?
Somewhere out there, there’s a poorly pasteurised carton of milk with your name on it.
What do you say we dance in the sun?
Here’s a crochet blanket, here’s my friend Ron.
He’s pleased to see you kids.
He just wants to drive buses, but they won’t let him.
They won’t let him, o no no.
His son was brain-damaged
in a terrible accident, ten years ago.
Ricky smashes an apple into his face.
So I smash an apple into Ricky’s face
|
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5. |
Aqueduct in Samaria
05:54
|
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6. |
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|
You’ve seen your grandmother’s videos of Andre, the Winter King
Flying through castles of polystyrene
How many aged carers have the night off for once?
How many grandparents will the next year take from us?
She
moves
the veil
and finds her-
self face-to-face with ANDRE
the Hearteater
The stadium shakes,
There’s weeping in the pews—
it’s the fascist massed shuffle of their
comfortable shoes
…the cellists on stage
try to find the right page,
try to play the waltz right
for the 1200th night…
She
moves
the veil
and finds her-
self face-to-face with ANDRE
the Hearteater
It’s Andre, seductive,
his whole life a solo,
eyes fixed on eyes fixed on cataracted eyes;
And the triumph of will that he feels in his thighs—
He’s the KING of the WALTZ
He’s the KING of the WALTZ
The darling of tiny adults
She
moves
the veil
and finds her-
self face-to-face
with the Hearteater
|
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7. |
Born Yesterday
03:18
|
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|
I was born yesterday—
it’s not easy, but I’ll stay here
Evicted from the perfect night
into freezing worlds of light
There’s a staircase to the stars
it glitters with Ebola
The atmosphere’s a plastic bag
wrapped around a burning fag now,
but I know everything we burn
will one day return
I’m a fruit wrapped in a tray
good for just one day.
(the uterus is just a casino)
I’m in exile from the bliss
but I remember this:
all of those that go away
will return some day, looking fatter
They’ve been gorging on the light.
You can swallow them like paper.
All of those that go away
Will return some day.
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8. |
Landscape, w/Bitcoin
06:37
|
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9. |
Kocani '91
05:26
|
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Ron Gallipoli Auckland, New Zealand
Art-stained balladry and dank electronics.
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