Tuesday, 21 January 2014
16. Sonnet: “Fuck all this game – this is a shit life, bro”
In the midst of where we are lies this injunction now:
“Shut down the words around these riots in our language”
What conflict plays across these streets here & wherever
You need not deny it but you need to accept – what?
The light of burning shops playing on the wet streets at evening
An ugly banality that will replace pronouns by real people
Carefully traversing the wreckage of attitude & takings
I know Karla, Darrel & their quest through this neighbourhood
Eating pies and laughing in the red glow of English riots
Anything you said ignored the burning urban landscape but
Well, truth becomes sooted & soggy cardboard laid across glass
So, everything taken now! – well, then, that’s a weird open feeling
The constraints are replaced by fists & poles, fiercely devouring
Still an inflamed wound smeared around above us all.