2011-07-25

Outlaw Junction News-Chop MONDAY POEM Edition

110725M


Outlaw Junction News-Chop

MONDAY POEM Edition


Evermore pointless, futile beliefs of the times,

Talking heads repeating ghost's demanding lines.


Loosing all faith HA! GAWN!

Refusing suicide, fuck-'um,

ain't gonna suit the wishes of scum.


Massacre threatens to become a trend,

'contagion' of deaths rushing forward the end.


Meanwhile the ads keep selling unfacts,

And the moguls keep lying to cover their tracks.


Housemaid speaks out 'bout a sexmad upclub dog

She ain't no fame-seeking hussler,

She jus' wants to keep her honest job!


An' the deficit dives, down the debt dunny drain,

an' opulent Republicans

insist their the one's with the brains.


The IMF feeds Greek speculating banks

more foreign public debt,

and no-one goes

to the core of the issue,

no-one wants to vet.....,


Why corruption's the trend in migrant nations,

at one with false gods of old Roman-religious

land-speculating oblations.


Why Indigenie drinks indignance to sleep,

Knowing, not 'praying', their Souls

the Great Spirit will keep.


'Cause they still in their hearts

Live True with the Will of the Lord


And they ain't plagued by that western deceit

of crazy-mind, for being insatiably 'bored'.


And that THE Law, IS their Soul

And to It they stay True.


As dominant Dominoes

keep lying their way through,

the bulwarks Kabbala

psychotically-builds

making a once heart-Green world

a darker, darker blue.


So a white-superiorist proves

that whitey is best

knocking 90 and more

Puts Al Qieda to the test!


A peaceful nation of Vikings Great

slips in shock to this untranquil break


By a 'loner' who saw

that the world is on the way down

and that all the news and political spin

is just fucking around


With everyone's soul

Digging unthinking people

their own bottomless hellhole


And the snow-white views

of those chill-sweet northern fiords

are melting because we all over do

our faith in share-hungry corporate boards.


And that soulless morons

execute management

turning foul our finest act -

of making capital of the firmament.


and in that,

sacrifice

everything that was nice


into profit and perversion

into the popular choice.


And moguls struggle denying dementia

and their inheritors of evil can't talk straight

so warble in garbled accenta.


And expect that mere pay

to a coven of lawyers

will buy them through any

high class courthouse foyer.


Meanwhile down an alley

in every back town,

there's a Mob of Rebels,

long sick of all the fucking around.


And with a record at war,

against some perceived enemy 'man',

gathering arms and True Ideals

into global Outlaw Clans


Cold pressure on fools

who think they got rights

to shit on the poor,

an' give the masses the frights.


Steely hearts, over guilt,

shame and remorse,

they'se building support

on back of one huge iron horse.


An' the snobs in dark age cloaks,

are thinking again, 'bout staying afloat

on the backs of the Workers with no rights,

and keep starving slaves, and non-whites.


And some even thinking,

's time to climb down

from their ivory towers,

an' stop acting like

egomaniacal clowns.


And do the 'tree-change'

an' get dirt unner their 'nails

and start agrarian communities

before the environment totally fails.


But in media newsrooms and studios

dickheads keep clammering for kudos,

GAWN into mindless popularist burrows.


But victims of mummy's

delusional religious spell

I want MY BAYBEE

to be saved from going to Hell!”


With not the slightest insight

that they are making its road

with all the bullshit THEY tell.


An' in uptown main street,

it's business-as-usual,

e'en though profits are down

an' staff are made casual.


An' flossy white dress-ups

prance frantic on the shop-floor

ever-fretting “how long will it be

before I'm forced out

to sell my fanny like a whore?”


And small business owners,

keep up the smile.

But behind the teeth

heart attacks threaten to file

on more bad money news

of another recession

I'll just nip over to the chemist

for pills to dull that impending depression!”


'Course that'll cure all,

an' save y' from selling the house!

An' th' boat and wide-screen

stop yer seeing

that you're just a spoiled braindead

and gutless fucking mouse!


An' outside the media's view

homeless numbers are rising

taking to the highways

and the Bliss of the endless horizon.


Each minute more find

out here it's easy to be Soul-deep-glad

and that to Go Nomad, a bloke no go mad!


Away from expectations,

of bank, landlord and wife.

Away at last from the social delusions

and lies of city life!


And that the silence of the forest

is where Happiness Lives,


Or over in the Deserts,

where the endless sand gives

the Heart and mind space

to find oneness with Grace

and that when Brother's happen along

It's a Real Joy to Embrace.


'Cause you've all dropped those pretensions

that shitty-city culture demands,

and that the simplest thrill

of a gorgeous feed is there

with a boomerang, spear,

digging stick, and two good hands.


An' while a white-skin sits locked away

way over in Norway,

for protesting against

the popularist slavery,


I know he agrees with these observations

and that's why he done what he done

for the preservation

of those Pristine Norwegian

glistening horizons.


Then, as the day wanders by,

Mind flicks back down under,

and remembers events around my hometown

of the bushfires and carnage

Black Saturday called down.


Of pyromaniacs striking a match

and burning hundreds of lives

causing all of 'em

to re-thatch

their beliefs about life,

about how we should live.

That something's terribly awry

all take and no give.


Making money raping forests

and killing country

wiping out natives

to slam down urban insanity.


And inquiries dug in

to find what went wrong

but totally ignored

that speculative CRAPitalist culture

was selling life for a song.


And memorials are replayed

each year on the day,

and grants are paid

to rebuild houses burned away.


But same-same bullshit habits

keep playing same-same games

and same-same greed and ignorance

keeps an honorable life in the grave.


And same-same coppers

protect same-same crims,

land corporations

drop pennies in charity bins.


And political priests talk big,

like they here to save the planet!

But everyone knows

they're just out to cunningly scam-it,


with more same-same words

of the same-same bullshit

and that the more they get through,

the closer we all come

to being sent to Hell's pit.


A few cheery words from


Outlaw Junction News-Chop

MONDAY'S POEM Edition




All Praise the Immortals!

All Praise the Warriors who have fallen

Fighting for a Just World!


from the Traveling 4x4 Tent of


BLUE MEANEE

Omaxa bin Eartha

aka Max Earth


Anchor,

for


Outlaw Junction


Media Portal

for the

Three Wise Tribes

ReBalance

Aborigine - Green - Biker

GLOBAL


Advocating

Land,

Tax,

Housing,

Family,

Agricultural,

Cult,

Drug,

Work,

Education &

Environmental

LAW REFORM


ULURUBA