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Over the past years, as our liberties & freedoms have been eroded, it has become increasingly apparent that people are no longer prepared to protest, even peacefully, for fear of what their governments, by way of Police & Legal Systems will do to them. The culture of fear is all pervasive and as such has worked as far as those who seek to pacify and control us are concerned. Ever more inhumane and disproportionate measures have been implemented to quell any social unrest and those who still dare to speak out against injustice, greed or irresponsible power are vilified and demonised by a collaborative press who, like the governments they serve, have long since abandoned their role of representing either the voice or the interest of the people.
I was recently asked by Ashley Reaks  if i'd be interested in contributing to his forthcoming album, the theme of which is to be Protest.


PROTESTATIONS 

Dirt farmer come feather your nest in summertime
rent boys gather round
we have clean gloves and nasal spray
these are the wet nurse days
where free rain is given to drought victims
lungs wheeze and creak
like chevrolet cogs in a big cat
drip message for a meagre diet
whilst ever the coma stews
whilst ever the number six
no matter how the reflection spins
it’s only transmission & compressor oil
in through the out door & an exclamation of
“I thought you’d finished.... everything!”

Sweep slow sweet harlot
your path is not for the faint heated
but electric misery will plague us all
before this night runs dry
& wisdom slides on a galvanized curtain rail
shutting out a pitted moon
compressed into a silver thimble
still red with yesterdays’ blood

Furniture stalls at the junction
whilst the green lights fornicate with wet reflections
pulse meters are hot property
& only the willful survive
new form is perpetual with inaccurate retard technology 
all a-flutter under foot
black & white like a zebra finch - red beak
landfill horizons all meshed together
& elongated with a paraffin mist 
both pink & violent with the naked truth

& the pews are full of blind faith healers
down trodden by mid-term medical students
with axes to grind and money to burn
sleepless in a tin tub
too far gone on a new low tide
well done jesus, you put it in a nut-shell
& still you wonder why we don’t protest?

Bang ugly in the dark spectrum
no, this ain’t a right no more
more like a crippled child in a fur coffin
swigging from nipple-land
some tainted juice of resignation
for ‘when i leave here no other man shall enter’
goes the dub echo from a time when
protest & revolution were as possible
as butter from milk

Torn sanity on a broken roof
liquid resolve (add more water to dilute)
o lord see how easy the weak relinquish 
their inheritance
feeling the pulse of a dead television
& begging on knees for the repeats to repeat

& the sweat of hard labour is sanitized
there is always a price to pay
so why put the effort in when it’s a new set of
rules for the featureless plasticine blood-clots
pantaloons girdled with cycle clips
full of shit & shame
verbal toxification & religious spit-buckets
for the semen deeds

Tighten up this & tighten up that
Lucy Sanctions Disaster
break out the pill-press there’s a new gameshow in
town > You’ve Been Kettled < with a new breed
of shepherds taser-slingin’ with blacked out faces
no marks
no numbers
answerable to no one when the mortar crumbles &
the structure collapses
& how will you collect your taxes then...
Mr. Falsehead Godhead? when your 
all seeing eye gets blinded
damn right this life’s full of surprises
damn right this world’s full of divisive devices

Put up or shut up, they say
but i’m seeing a whole new interpretation
where we put up with it & put up with it
so scared we might lose our right to remain silent 
we shut up shop & bury our heads in the slime
>> Excuse me, is this the queue for the Last Time?