Please Don’t Arrest Me Under The ISA

Street protest outside Malaysian Tourism Office, end of May 2010.

Acoustic Insurgency – Sunday 28th!

Proper Propaganda

Poetry or Death!

Poetry Or Death!

Up against the wall Mother Hubbard!

This poem is a chance.

This poem is a silver six-shooter

Five chambers empty, one loaded

With a bullet that’s gonna blow the back of your head all over the table

1 in six you will be spooning your brains back in, parts lost forever

Click/click/click/click/click/BANG!

This poem is a decision

This poem is a doublebarrelled shotgun shoved in your mouth

Teeth clamped around metal

One side loaded with a cartridge of lead pellets

The other with words that’ll pepper the inside of your skull all over the ceiling

Forcing you to choose

50/50 chance

Poetry or death?

Chick chack

BOOM!

This poem is unavoidable, unstoppable

This poem is a shank

A rusty blade that I’ll stick in your belly

And watch you spaz and quiver on the tip of

SHING! THUNK!

This poem is bewitchment.

This poem is a voodoo shaman ritual

Where when I find the right combination

Of word and gesture

I will make you my zombie slave

Unlocking parts of you dormant for years

Enslaving your whim to my will

And you’ll never be the same again.

CHICKA-CHICKAH!

This poem is your death.

This poem is the death of who you were before you heard this poem.

This poem is your old body burning on a spirit fire

Your heart eaten by a maniac

Your head impaled on a spike outside your front lawn

This poem is the end of everything you ever once knew.

I’M GOING TO FUCK YOU ALL!

Civil Disobedience

Civil Disobedience 

Who here can get down with civil disobedience?

Who here can get down with civil disobedience?

Who here can get down with civil disobedience?

Who here can get down with civil disobedience?

 

People protest in the street and they call it a riot

People screaming for their freedom, government try to deny it

They smashing private property, but who own it all anyway?

The same company you sold your life to today and yesterday

They call it private property, but who own it a crooked lottery

Coz when 1% of the people own 90% of the wealth

We know they taking it all through use of stealth

Selling you prepackaged life straight off the shelf

You think the rich care if you get socialized health?

Or you get treated fair by employers or banks?

They too busy reinvesting in bullets and tanks

Protecting they interests, minimizing ours

It’s time we burn ‘em up in they ivory towers

So fight your fear and if you dare

Grab up that tacky plastic McDonald’s chair

And break it over that policeman there

Coz police are the first defense of the state

Brainwash education reinforcing their hate

Of anyone, anything, any idea that challenge them

They authority the face of authoritarianism

Politicians the mouthpiece of big business corporations

Not the public, when you gonna realize there ain’t no representation?

Just a regular process of disenfranchisation

Of misdirection, propaganda and privatization

So grab up your banners and get on them streets in demonstration

Coz the people got the power against dehumanization

Against racial segregation, against corporate sanitization

And there endless delegation leading only to more oppression

 

So now can you tell me you up for some civil disobedience?

Now can can I hear you want some civil disobedience?

Show me what you got with civil disobedience!

Tear it up tear it up for some civil disobedience!

 

“Now hang on there, Jah-J,” I’m hearing you cry

“You have to work with the system, just give it a try.

The government works for us, why would they lie?

You just paranoid, thinking it some conspiracy.

We live in the free world, a capitalist democracy!”

The system? The system? The system?

They motherfuckin’ system total hypocrisy

Your motherfuckin’ system sucking people dry

Leaving old folks on the street to die

Starving refugees born to cry

System all about profit margins, not starving Marvins

Who getting the biggest slice of the pie

Depend on who doing the carving

They got the knife and we get the scraps

Videotaped while we eat em, listened to on phone taps

The system don’t right wrongs, only drop bombs

And you think we gonna change that singing peace songs?

We need to reclaim the streets, reclaim our minds

Reclaim our lives, reclaim our rights

It’s our responsibility, not our parents, or our children, or our government, or our corporate sponsors, or anyone but us.

 

Down with it? Down with it? Down with it? Down with it?

 

So get up wake up live up smash up crash up burn up fire up smoke up toke up punk up kick up drum up shoot up rock up break up take up no fakers no more liars no more dividers no more us and them us and them us and them it’s the system that killing our minds our love our lives our futures so what you gonna do what you gonna do what you gonna do?

After The Orgy

After The Orgy 

Twisted, blistered, hamfisted

Mutilated yet still cognitive

A sprawl of mutant indiscretions

Piled upon each other without end

Without sin, without realization

Every drug taken, every liberty taken

Abused, poisoned, misused, intoxicated

Needles out our eyeballs and between our toes

Stacks of fresh human meat

In the shopping centre rows

Every holy place desolate, every obscenity sanctified

Categorized, commercialized, advertised, desensitized

Overloaded, overstimulated, manipulated, condescended

Evaluated and commodified, sold back to us pound by pound

Any and every and all experiences in a Hollywood film

Marketed to us as reachable dreams

Have it all and more

The most beautiful girls, the most erotic sex, the highest high!

Every error paintbrushed out, people become perfect, unreachable, godlike

Smiling from the magazines subtitled in bold type:

“How To Be Happy!”

“Get Lips Like These!”

“What You Don’t Know About Being Beautiful!”

 

Erogenously exploited, they’ve managed to tap into

Our minds, our souls, and begin to fill them

We the human land-fills, deposited with the shite

The trite, the meaningless, the gibbergabber

The sensational, the spectacular!

Spastically tackling each drama in our lives

Hungry, famished, starving

Wastrels and skeletons in our plastic mausoleums

Devouring each other, soaking up every emotion

Every event, the screens plugged into our souls

We read from scripts transmitted subliminally

Our poor degenerate Gods

-         the Celebrity Pantheon –

pity the poor plastic spastics trapped in

Paparrazzi lenses

They are our slaves! Our gladiators!

Our whores and by Christ do we take our money’s worth

They are our martyrs and our saints and our sacrifices

And we are told to idolize them and then we

Gleefully butcher them on the altar of publicity

A week’s media entertainment.

The bloodletting is ceaseless

The slaughter unimagineable

Across the globe, our planet is raped

Dying, we the cancer that is killing it

Yet we continue to fuck and smoke and drink

And party and smile and shit over everything and everyone

Flicking through magazines, gloating over pictures

Of people we know, but have never met

We lap them up, drown in them, resent their success and revel in their dismay

Selfish, senseless, demonic seraphim that we are.

There is no saving the planet. There is no light.

The human race is on a crashcourse with God’s own wrath.

Oblivion.

And we know it.

But we hide behind this infantile, puerile, degrading, demeaning nonsense.

We used to communicate in the language of song

Converse with the trees, the animals, the angels

With our own souls, with each other,

We were understood; we understood.

Now our babel of languages causes only confusion.

 

In the suddenly chilling darkness

I find myself surrounded by sweating, clammy flesh

Anonymous bodies, blank faces

Panting and spent

Drained of all emotion

All desire

All humanity

We look at each other and see

The mound of human debris we have become.

Empty vessels, bereft of God.

We dress, and shake hands. Awkward smiles.

 

After the orgy

After all those perceived moments of fleeting bliss

And ecstasy beyond comparison

Those strata of novae like super-pleasures

After every degradation possible

After we’ve done it all, seen it all, experienced it all

We walk out into the cold night street

We will find

That our world has become a wasteland

Our souls have become vacuums

And we are no more satiated

Than when we came in.

Punkrock Dreadlock

Punkrock/Dreadlock 

I don’t believe Bob Marley died of cancer

The CIA made him pay

They knew he had the answer

Now all your hatred is directed at each other

When it should be at the state, economy and Big Brother

 

Your apathy merely keeps you in line

Pointless hatred only wasting too much precious time

We need some new revolutionaries of rap/rock/rhyme

Teach all y’all peace and unity

Is no crime.

 

I’m getting down like a new de la Rocha

With my fist in the air and a finger for the motherfucker

Keeping us in fear of our sisters and brothers

We should be fightin the power

Not turning on each other.

 

So be a fighter with a true cause

Give a fuck about the truth of new terrorism laws

Give a fuck about Guantanamo Bay

Innocent men and women deprived of their fair say

 

Cause this democracy a true sham

We could take it back

If you only gave a damn

But you too busy getting drunk, fucking bitches, chasing money

You won’t realize that it’s wrong till all the rebels are gone.