Wednesday, 28 September 2011

The Revolving Anger

A monolgue poem...

the them, them - us,
these them and us conversations
"The problem", they diplomatically say,
"is multi-layered, full of social complexities"
With the air of lofty privilege economic freedom buys
 atop a pedestal of superiority
so let's level the playing field, pretend we are all equal,
to unpick the "multi-layered" perplexity
observe the symptom of a situation:
foot, shoe, walk
Could experience otherness, without being crippled
Could they walk their talk? Are their toes
to precious to dip in the waves of foreign,
would they become a slaves
if they made such a human connection?
(britain never never shall be -
With 1point plus trillion national debt)


Observe the psychology of (those you've) 
oppressed, the Pathology of privilege
speeding humanity to the edge
and 'those people' you give nothing to believe in
aren't blind to the example you set
of war mongering and thieving

callous, you build a society made to suit you’re measure
Stitch up the logic, the fix, the equation of pressure
- Lies x corruption x 'every breath is day light robbery'
string up Robin, reward the sheriff
let them riot x looting squared for a media frenzy

See that youth repeatedly, ferociously, punching Ladbrokes reinforced glass
with raw fists
this is rage from a page
not yet written in history books or
OFSTED curriculum classroom lists,
check how his rage hissed
and the steam was released
"easy bredrin, calm down blud, come on,"
his mate said and pulled him away,
camaraderie in the fury 

let's talk about the anger, as the stakes are high
straight to the camels back
you place your greed and disregard and wonder why
a need ignored turns ugly
Duggans story is blacked out by the BBC
white wash and it needs to be told again
and again and again

on August 6th,
on a Tottenham side road
i bumped in to his wife-to-be, Semone,
i asked what was happening,
she told me, "they killed him"
the streets patience was waning,
5 days later and still
no explanation
she hung limp, boneless with mourning
in the arms of loved ones she took refuge,
a cloned woman withering for the father of children
he is not here to defend himself: a 'summary execution' or a 'lynching'?
still we wait...
and you talk and talk about criminality,
opportunism, materialism turned nihilisticm
minimise the 'have and have-not' polemic
But it's human beings who are on the ground
living the hard knock of reality, that hard sound
Your compassion is the missing link,
theres is no room for it in the
the 'them and us' instinct prevails

But when a 'Haves' finds the emotion of anger,
it whelps and it wails
when the 'Have-nots' trespass and jump the rails
The sport is now in the sick sentencing, long hauls in jail
Clean up the street for those Olympic ticket sales

The placentas of this system are poor boroughs like Tottenham,
With eternal road works to channel cheap commerce To a hungry unhealthy economy
to drive taxed paltry wages through the industrial park -
to McD's, Footlocker and Currys
junk food, shiny things, and oh how it fleeces
this hunk of capitalism placates, distracts, appeases

But who wants hear this sob story
this is the land of hope and glory!
the numbing, the dumbing is strategic
"he who controls the media, controls the public."
the TV "guide" disguised as adult content
pushing key stage 2 sound bites with anaesthetizing intent


Mainstream media: a monstrous machine gorging on the overwhelmed To paralysis age they prefer to call'apathy
the papers blared "Londons burning!", this is history turning
this is the face of tormented creature, of your creating
the lack of belonging dealt the final blow
and all the neighbourhood got robbed that day.

This unsustainable capitalist claxon sounds every sleeping hour
Time to be wide awake to the his masters voice - an illusion of power
Saying "if you possess this, you're a success, a real grow up",
then slaps down its kids with cuts, and lack of choices
youth programs that'd keep them #Occupied
introduce them to the strength of their voices
from their own communities they are ostracized 
reclaiming the streets with blood while politicians continue to lie

See, its the anger, that rage and how it translates
i've seen too many implode on road
when, not if, it does decide to communicate
turns babies into ruthlessness rogue elements
devoid of any soft sentiment for police presence,
the ailment was prevalent

government rot reaching the core
every politician wants a war
to cement his career
to add to their portfolio,
fatten the cv
so "pull the police back, leave 'em to it,
let them eat cake, have those trainers, that tv"
"if we all lean to the right, i predict a riot", Clegg decreed

Really? Roll over, sit, now beg.
down boy down," humping whosoever's leg
pop open the Cava, no, let's bust a keg and do as the commoners do...
"drink, get that power down your neck!"
the leaders of a nation are drunk with politricks,
oil slick rhetoric and expenses exiting public pocket
malevolent greed leads us down a path apocalyptic
the seven horses that snorted porn
an expense Everyday People have borne

Lo and Behold, the Uprising was televised, 
a plague of cameras on lamposts, nooks, 
crannies and walls like circling flies

We watch our kids run 'riot' without police interference
and surveillance is so efficient, all hail its omniscience,
to catch an ASBO, it's so effective
but mysteriously defective, becomes curiously selective
when police procedure is to be inspected,
goes 'missing' conveniently
evaporates into the ether, to the murk of inefficiency

in this crisis of morality
expectations are so low and so are easily met,
young blood congeals from the boredom,
hedge your funds and your bets
that "the peasants will revolt, the worthless dolts!"

they kettle children here, for real?
For real. the absurdity, let alone the outcry,
so tantrums are inevitable as
children will test boundaries before they fly
your rationale is to bring out water canons,
rubber bullets then bullshit sentencing
replace the fashion of a hoodie to a time Dickensian
no Caps in court unless the style is Oliver Twists
"Please sir, can you fuck me up some more?"
and we see the age in which this judicial system exists
the ink of law on dusty pages, victorian ages still persists

one rule for 'us' and a dud for the "other"
Starkey, streaked his racism,
butt naked on the BBC, "I'm a historian and the 'other'
is dragging our good british language into the ghetto gutter"
we hear this diatribe in the 21st hundred,
in the time of a mixed heritage US president
we don't have to love him
but the Wheels of Change WILL turn
evolution is the revolving face of reality
A revolution? London burns


In conclusion
I might be delusional,
but its logical if you're reasonable
everyone saying it's dark out there,
but the glare of this
has been staring us all in the face,
we dropped the ball, took your eyes off the prize
And the kids veins are running ruthless, they're feeling their size
clash: smoke and anger flaring up in old empires skies





effused by Zena Edwards©

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