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Victim TV plays on relentless
Only pausing to turn merchant for a while
I busy myself looking for the unclicked link
'Dance like a scorpion in a ring of fire'
Attempt drowning the blanket coverage with 144p
Three, four
Paydirt
It takes me straight back
Back to the time I was sent to school in
Scarlet corduroy trousers
No amount of Adibok sweatshirts can erase
A whole world of tragedy crystallised into (For ages 8/9)
Everything else coalesces into them
While one neighbour plays Elvis 'round the clock
the other takes his 8 & 9yr olds every other night
But the new TV cries even louder of the traitorous Miners
as it waits to be stolen by the starving same
Besides, who would do such a thing not on TV
All while the puppy slowly loses his fight with Distemper
Doubling the grief he was meant to replace
Decades later the unclicked link sits stoic
Unwaiting & perfectly timed
Banishing all the new victims with a tiny geetar
Turning how it was to how it ought have been
'Never flinch..Never lie..'
Vanessa & her sister were vanished without fanfare
Rescued by Rotherham child protective services
Just the mother & son left next door, all sudden like
Enquiries answered with distraction & TV
But all children are experts at feigning distraction
Wired at birth to be masterful eavesdroppers
The Miners & their sons were to be bled out slowly going forward
The grey street eventually demolished in flashes of yellow artex
Vivid rectangular clean patches on the Floral chintz wallpaper
a final shameful disclosure before rubble
Breadwinning, Brass bands, Sunday league football
now replaced with lager breakfasts, dole, TV or heroin
Wife & mother to become civil servant
order picker
call centre casualty
Strained Sunshine
The song ends with a flourish, the singer wry smiling
thru his hipster glasses, 'This
confession will mean nothing..'
I imagine the scarlet corduroy trousers passed on still
Destroying childhoods as they go
Half horrifying Refugees
Still as bright as the day lucifer tailored them.
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C.C.
Red corduroy pants will be forever etched in my memory as an unconscionable crime against nature. Seriously. This is such terse writing. So tight. Completely devoid of superfluity. Lean, muscular - all sinew and bone but incredibly dense at the same time. Like an Olympic powerlifter doing a snatch and press, every word carries a motherlode of weight and then some. I’ve read it four times now and each time I go away with a platter full of yumminess to chew and digest, but still come back for more. I need to loosen my brain a few notches, the poor thing is straining because it’s too fucking full! You challenged the fuck out of my poor addled grey cells. The content, the style of it... you are a clever fucker and I am officially envious. I gave it 2 “kudos” last night, but was too astonished by the poem to comment cogently then. Of course, I still haven't commented cogently, but what the hell? Enjoyed.
Ah, what an amazing comment.
Good luck getting a cogent reply D:
I'm sick to death of superfluous. Beyond weary of watching manufactured misery and the martyrs that revel in it.
I'm pretty sure that's the reason there's nothing new, even my small talk factoids are a hate crime.
Attempts to coalesce today..
Truth is I'm sat beside the VTV right now. (Again) No notice. No reason. Venomous teenagers & a NHS mother terrified, exhausted, stretched too thin. Yet she has form. She made promises. The promise.
I am become psychological collateral.
There's no will to drive or guide out weakness. An absolute refusal to see what is plain. Hi-jacked empathy as pathology.
Words words words. Contradicting actions that say it all.
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"Thurnscoe was known in early times as Turnesc, this becoming Terunsc by the time of its mention in the Domesday Book, the name Thurnscoe is derived from Old Norse for Thorn Tree Wood."
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The celts (Brigantes, locally) were onto something not having a written language. Surely we're all contaminated by a constant film of disingenuosity? It's inescapable, today. Ironically enough, I spend most of my time on twitter learning about it. My friend (one way) would have it that it is better to die as a culture or people wholesale, than have it augmented and mutated into something impure by an other. If it is in truth & harmony, then we will be reborn to it as sure as the swastika turns.
13 years ago you commented on my tumbleweed myspace blog.
Titled Photosynthesis.
A rambling nonsense about repossession & refusing to be destroyed by it. Now lost, of course.
You mentioned my use of the article 'a' capitalised, as if it was deliberate & for dramatic effect. I was amazed to have caught the attention of a famous American. Awestruck by yr effortless incandescence. I will never forget it.
Grow me in furrows, let the film wash off on its own. xoxo
https://youtu.be/mQMVHhxTtLc
by Frosty; ; Report
You sweet man! I am so glad I checked back in before going to bed. I am too exhausted to reply adequately, but well... mucho amor xoxoox
by C.C.; ; Report
Frosty
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