Riart

Poetry

City Riot

Shanghai is sinking under the weight of sky scrapers and every city competing with the rest.

Shovelling sand to make buildings so grand somehow leaves me unimpressed.

 

I don’t want you to show off to me i want you to relax in my company let go of your anxiety and dream of other worlds

but psychosis and neurosis came in double doses and left a generation struggling for words…..

 

Rotten to the core and enslaved by crooked law who will buy my sweet red roses until the land can give no more.

Left in hallowed misery no flag of truth to fly, only brave young men to shake the economy of lies.

 

Vampire currency debases the best of mother earth and pollutes the minds of children in life and death and birth.

No wisdom in foundations as the elders turn away and leave the youth to clean up the mess of yesterday.

 

Is this the golden legacy of inherited debt? When our parents worked and saved for the city boys to bet.

As they squandered all the pride of so many lives well lived, can the children be expected to work and pay and give?

But they are and to be frank no one gives a shit as the corporate culprits suck on the illuminati’s dick.

 

The elite and the elected rob with impunity and that is not the justice dished out to you and me.

So the youth they went a burning and a looting in the streets, trapped in the kitchen burning in the heat.

With nothing in the pot, old trainers on their feet and no one to represent them in a parliamentary seat.

Social tensions become heavy when words begin to fail and battle gathers speed when the ship is in full sail.

 

Full of empty promise the news a golden calf to worship at the alter of a life you live half arsed.

Divided and ruled, manipulated and schooled, turning hopeful scholars into blunted tools,

who say “yes boss” while at night weep into their beds for the lie they know they live inside their dumbed down heads.

 

So Riot, they will Riot what else can you expect when you turn a life of meaning into a life of debt.

Robbed, debased, defiled and treated so unkind the constant humiliation of the human mind.

Here in lies the rub we are all a family, fragmented little pieces of human history.

So Riot we will riot what else can you expect when you turn a life of meaning into a life of debt.

Lola Clyne, Sept 2011

 

 

Mortality touches us all, mere flies in Nature’s web.

Man has an indisputable claim to this Kingdom’s crown by virtue of analytical thought and the gift of reason.

This relentless quest for material gain and the eternal consequence of greed has brought the modern World’s

First true democracy to its fattened knees.

Serial incompetence by our elected peers, overlooked in harvest, requires judgement in crisis.

To all who live this pleasant land I ask just one question.

Will History record this time as one of autocracy gained or democracy regained?

BM, March 09 (nothing changes)

Dignity

 

I follow the path of dignity of consistency because my actions and my words will define the very shape of me

My heart beating like a drum skin vibrating with all the passion of my own personal universe.

 

And how can i keep this true if i keep baptising myself in the fires of lies, if i am hypnotised and thrown from bad intent to fraudulent payment?

Short changed, rearranged and harvested with no fertile crop, with the grapes of summers good intent withered on the vine, wishing back lost time. wishing for the pride of fine autumn wine.

 

And if my pallet finally loses its taste for the bursting purple passion that drives me to my love, then as it is below so it is above.

So from my root to my tips from my heart to my lips, let all that i speak be constant and true and let me take my broken wings and arise in you anew.

 

Smiling through your smile, burning through your heat all my kisses and my wishes making you complete.

As i am a worshiper of lost children i will throw flowers at your feet, serve you and nurse you, but this is not a one way street.

 

Because i am breathing life into a lost dream standing my ground against the anguish of the scream and saying “this is not me”, i am so much more than this I am not about distorting a punch into a kiss.

Violence is not love nor has it ever been i am the light footed bear dancing in my lovers dream

Grace be the guiding light of my mindful heart, may compassion and care illuminate the dark

yes i walk with dignity i am consistent i am true and this is what i wish will bind the bonds of me and you.

Lola Clyne