18/06/2010

Mopup



BABY, I'M A REFORMIST

(to the tune of Against Me's "Baby I'm An Anarchist")





Through the best of times,
Through the worst of times,
Idealism's nasty death
Dyou remember '36?
We went our separate ways
You fought for Trotsky,
I for Azana.
You live in utopia,
I'm in Buckie.
You're a molotov splashing all eight passersby.

Baby, these whole irate look in our eyes -
What I'm trying to say is that:
You burn down buildings
While I'm trying to save some inside of them.
You hate the cops
For their fascist necessity.
You call it class war,
I call it neo-Kantian demands.

'Cause baby, you're an anarchist,
And I'm a spineless liberal.
We marched together for the eight-hour day
matched wits in a downtown vegan bar,
But when it came time to throw bricks
Through the corporate frontend,
You threw them all alone.
(Righteously lone)

I watched in awe at this thing that we built
Growing more and more ok.
While the statute was improving,
You screamed "Fascist!" at those
Who gave you the platform,
I'll go for the changes
That the parties are made to
On the back line of my ,
I BELIEVE IN THE BALLOT
I BELIEVE IN REFORM
Wait for a nonelephant nonjackass;
there are always outsiders to raise:
We're all hypocrites, just like patriots.
I thought you were really kidding
When you screamed "Property's theft!"
At the top of your lungs
At the voters en route
And the jury depute.
No, you'll crave our reproof
And rebel for kicks.

'Cause baby, I'm a reformist,
And you're a well-read extremist.
We marched together for civil progress
Forced old white men then to go sign it
But when you decide that propagand
ising of deed
Will help a fucking thing.

(I'll condemn.)


************************************************

WORDS I WOULD NOT OTHERWISE SAY

Disbelief makes me solemn;
you are a serious matter
I've no hope to solve.
(a paralysing sequent)

Your hands are absurdities
for they contradict my skin
and from them anything follows.

I can say the words but they're
empty names, real but not realised.

The delight is scalding.

**************************************************************************

'GLOBAL HUB'

Studiedly nothing

Smiling, we let our youth pass
And smiling did recline
Swivel chairs were not worth it
(Style over backbone by design).

There's a gamut, too
- Superlunary or syndicalist
Or Cistercian or something -
Where the cordon between degrees

Bleeds through, and unity can be
Noted if not attained.
Mind-bags and little else,
We probe behind glass

(Everyone's a scientist of their friends)
No need for much; a crossword, ice tea,
State-backed leisure,
less of your lip, poet,

Spuriously all things.




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