Anarchy
stand
in fidelity street
built on the trail of the true tradition
a scapegoat of the 'American way'
and a kicking dog with its bitch litter
well mister
your biggest crime was in the killing of a mother
full of unborn spawn
and make no mistake
it was a terrible and misguided gesture
but in the threadlights on the freeway of the American dream
the biggest carnage lies just off left the causeway
like sea froth at midnight on nearby media beach
yes
you killed celebrities
dead like flotsam
spitted spattered wretched drift
dead they're just cadavers
no fame
just lifeless nothings
turn the tarot cards and there the hierophant
will spring lightly out
so take it round your cell
explain what its like
to be a kid in a virtual prison
a kid separated from a disowning drinking mum
then on the run in panic trousers
urge into them the dizzying ache of hunger
and the simplistic where and how
to survive an unforgiving town at thirteen or so
if your alleged fellow brethren didn't care then
they're wide with listening now
and the sword blow upon the ears of irony is
now you have become 'that celebrity'
we all feel in some way
both necessity and the
the celerity of the cull
nice people but maybe
2 billion too many of us
a different notion each
yours manifest
the good and bad effected as
of harems and of counterculture
and its totem anarchy
a modern emblem of the untamed promise
that was the wild west
with all its prejudice
and infant ideals
how we older cultures are fixated
on your vigour and your vital
total teeming imagining
but thrilled a secret mostly by
the wild daring spaces
of extremity