Okay.
THE CHILDREN OUT OF TIME
We are the children born out of time,
Out of place and out of mind.
When honour has died,
And love cheapened.
When beauty is polluted,
and culture trampled.
We are the children born out of time.
When the new eagle has subsumed all.
Music that does not speak to us.
Moving pictures that does not move us.
Art that does not arouse feelings within us.
We are the children born out of time.
Always we hearken to other times,
other places, other feelings,
other worlds, other expressions.
We are the displaced, the unwanted.
There is no place for us here but what we make ourselves.
No beauty for us here but what we craft ourselves.
No inspiration for us here but what we seek ourselves.
We are the children born out of time.
When living Gods of yore lie crushed,
beneath the treads of newer, colder deities.
When man has given all to imperfect science,
and blind faith in a distant, deceiving creator.
We are the slave children.
There is no freedom for us here.
There is no freedom for us now.
There is no joy, no comfort,
no hallowed life that we can find in this mechanical age.
We are the children born out of time.
We are the spawn of chaotic forces,
Born out of wedlock with reality.
We live in different worlds, different aesthetics,
different emotions.
We claw with all our might at the bastion of a harsh,
dismissive world that would seek to consume us.
We are but children, but we are strong.
The times that are ours lie in ages past,
and in ages that never came.
But by our own will, and our unquenchable magick,
we shall make those times again in ages yet to come.
Under different stars and in different worlds,
we shall dance to the beat of our own drums.
We shall cast off the shallow impositions of this doomed time.
We are the children born out of time,
But we shall not die alone.
ALTERNATIVE PENETRATION
Black tears and scarlet blood
Dripping on to polar tiles
Running makeup all round eyes
Like fox-holes in the snow-white
Where the soul retreats to die
Of shrapnel wounds
In the red-flagged bloodstains
Of the gulag of the soul
Gates of the flesh unlocked
With clinical precision
With ravening screeches
She flies like a bird from
The sound of gunfire
Alternative penetration
This is the surgical sexuality
That procreates nothing
But the slow, steady drip of fluids
Urine joins the stream as fear
Undoes the nervous bindings
She comes out to me
Pouring out her very soul
Her life, liquefied, congeals on the floor
It forms a crust, a new womb
Rebirth of the afterbirth
She is foetal, incomplete, grasping, umbilical
She comes all to pieces beneath my caress
She cries just like an infant
But she will always be stillborn
A PEOPLE?S TRAGEDY
Bayonets through bibles
Last cigarettes for libels
One more dance for chivalry
A sealed train brings misery
A thousand thousand cry
A thousand thousand die
Whole generations dead
For want of peace and bread
A hundred poets dream
A thousand women scream
Genocidal strategy
A Peoples Tragedy
A uniformed prophet speaks
His words bring comfort to the weak
But soon the weak shall burn
Nothing changes when the wheel turns
A hundred million cry
A hundred million die
Entire nations dead
For want of land and bread
A thousand warriors charge
Human suffering writ large
The twentieth century
A Planets Tragedy
Add up the tables and graphs
As God takes the left-hand path
Wage a war for blood and oil
But still in shit the peasants toil
When a man puts a thought before life
The only outcome is madness and strife
We must cast aside the tyranny
Of anti-human philosophies
A peoples tragedy...
A planets tragedy...
And now something more silly:
THE CYBERPUNK BLUES
Well, I woke up late this morning,
And it was spitting acid rain,
And I wondered what the use was,
Is it really worth the pain?
I?m downloading disenchantment
Directly to my brain
It?s the little things you see
That?ll make you go insane
Well, my sunglasses have got a little scratch on
And my laser pistols down to its last tachyon
I got these nasty stains all down by black trenchcoat
And the coup d?etat just rescinded my vote.
Just what is a young cyborg to do,
When he?s glitched with the cyberpunk blues?
Oh, my stealth suit shrunk at the laundrette
And my cyber-hound got put down by the vet
I?m trying not to let their system mould me?
Oh, I need a little anti-heroine to come and hold me.
Just what is a young cyborg to do,
When he?s glitched with the cyberpunk blues?
Oh, This little conurbations a dead scene
I?m so tired of the same old Soylent Green.
Now the yakuza want me dead,
Thank goodness for my bullet-proof head
Just what is a young cyborg to do,
When he?s glitched with the cyberpunk blues?
