Tag: outposts

war reports from new jerusalem no.3

here is the new jerusalem, the glorious inhuman rite… dead insect eyes staring out from endless grave-sites… fields of nothing, forever, the policeman inside our head choking us to death… water-torture, terrorise; ambivalence in waves… steadily reducing civilisation to nil…

the children were conditioned to kill, the authorities cower in fear; pissing themselves in pits of corrupt sins… those games from the old-world battles and wars justified once again; a requiem of infernal sodomy… dancing demons in the oil-pools; diabolical suicide pacts, mass graves, mass genocide…

the governments served as theatre props, the guise of order, systems in place… operators pushing buttons, reacting to the flickering lights… no one understanding, no one in control… the poison keeps on coming, business-blood inside the veins… money-hunger drip-feeding power games…

dream-death scar the broken, primal screams inside the war zone… sleep-death covers the fallen… innocents chopped to pieces by the war machine… four per cent growth, cheap white goods and nazi-trump crusaders… pain incantations, nausea, salvage… fake it, fuck it, fight, fight, fight…

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fear incantations from the western lands no.2

fear incantations from the western lands… a world rendered meaningless that no one any longer understands… controllers, operators, mannequins, idiots, deplorables… wheeling bodies into the pit, clouded in cement dust; carcinogens, pharmaceuticals and body parts…

cities of the arabic world in flames… throwness, lostness, decay, collapse… fire-bombing, carpet-bombing, surveillance drones glide above the war-zone… blast-wall corridors demarcate the green-zone…

game theory statisticians, five percent nuclear war, child soldiers turned to mincemeat out in that rawest field… embedded reporters pissing themselves as the tanks roll in like doom centipede columns…

creeping existential panic, tyranny, war, mind-games… coup, putsch, junta, regime change… taste the metal on your tongue as each freedom is slowly chipped away… bite the bullet, baby… bite the bullet…

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distant images of a concourse going away no.1

insidious dreams beneath, the whole world out of reach… distant images of a concourse going away… fingertips losing touch as the dust sweeps up the moment to be lost and forgotten; or held endlessly dear…

the insurmountable depths of an instant, when all is cast away, deep into long doubt and regret… all that is fleeting and precious, all that will be gone… dreams of the undoing coming on…

slow moaning drones, building their steady rising… all is hurled headlong into the storm, the turmoil, the affray; endless nights of disarray… harrowing knowing on the brink…

the heart pounding, roaring with the cruel agony of ‘alive’ …let the fear creep in, let the waves of anxious nervous energy cloud the rationale; staggering  backwards into the bear-trap…

the collapsing aperture going away. the solemn swansong a funereal drone sounding out long over a mist-shrouded frozen dream… lungs, heart, brain of the machine…

see the snapshot glimpses of a bitter dawn, reflections in the shimmering shards of the newly broken…  sorrow slowly coming on… the long trawl into a murky grey… ‘let it not end this way…’

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