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| LitNet is ’n onafhanklike joernaal op die Internet, en word as gesamentlike onderneming deur Ligitprops 3042 BK en Media24 bedryf. |
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|
 |
All gone to look for America part 1
Blye Nell
All gone to look for America
America we are drowning in your imperatives
Our world the repository of your iconography,
Suffering the predations of your raw needs
You are the easy villain of the piece but
We wring our hands like beauty to your beast
And wail if you do not come to our rescue
We can pretend that we are not like you
The united states of the mind, in our pictures view
the distorting lens of your projection
american graffiti, give me money
land of hope and glory, sour
as, the dogs bark when the elephants pass
rowdy onlookers watch them grapple
messianic mullahs and fanatic generals
Immolation of Jihad
the spectacle of mammon;
The Purity of God ordained word
Translated by rabid patriarchy goes
Head to head with the dictates
Of mass produced anything for sale deal;
Ordered, conditioned, fatwa derived
Women despised, possessions of male hypocrisy
forced into anonymity by licentious gaze
their sisters across the material sea
corralled in soft cells, the glass ceiling
the pulchritude of flesh
driving the boundary of privacy back
equality of the cul-de-sac
The question is who drives
Is their pattern in the global dislocation
is there a spark of divine transformation
a synopsis, a diagnosis, prognosis
if there is a striving beyond venal schemes
material tactics and strategies,
conspiracies of history
beyond the mindscape, the bodies needs
A spirit sphere where the believers have it
We all God be,
Mohammed peace be unto him, surah writ in stone
controversy of Christ and Satan, Jehovah, trinity
-o-
Examine here more closely the wesciv model mechanical
a bundle of visceral scientifically probed synapses
flesh blood and bone,
ur-Rationality and post modernity,
material satisfaction, wealth of dollar appetite
The sub text of the American dream,
Illusion of individual freedom
in this knotted simulacrum, the pleasuredome
hunting ground of the last movie star
soldier's fire, barbie's desire, madonna's clit,
south park's zit, rapper's crutch, bourbon's lush,
computer bi-polarity,
hunter's gun, market spin,
holy babble, super kryptonite
madonna and slut, cosmopolitan and vogue, fuck bunny
dirty donny, desensitised lust,
inhabit the psyche of your cities
in the gomorrah struggles of penis and vagina
The gaping wound of your desires,
And if we hostages transgress the program,
escape and perceive in naked clarity
the involutionary trajectory,
to call for structure and ethical rulers
The gun is cocked to answer, to entrance,
The black helicopters carry the priests of the order
The dream police ride in on narcoleptic visions
Obsessional strategies and world dominion
National polarities of intervention and isolation
Monopoly capital global disorder,
Our blood flow into your black hole
At what cost to the future, you fill the larder?
Sucking the cream into your grim recipe.
and the question where are your children,
lost in the supermarket,
targets of perversions
in the melt down of beliefs,
in dimming ideals.
Alone in crowds, hungry ghosts
wander the blasted psychic terrain
post modern media driven Global bleached insanoscape
To eat and hunger to drink and thirst
To kill and die and die and kill
the phantasms of rewards, gift wrapped mediocrity
one step ahead and you're dead
-o-
I love America,
Elvis sure was prescient in the jailhouse rock
For sure we all want to fuck
Marilyn Monroe, bruised innocence,
the girl next door virgin whore we all adore
gratification undelayed, erotomania unchained
fast fade to the purgatory
of the Jerry Springer Execution chamber
pornography of violence in a thousand picture shows
-o-
a charged era this massive theme
the law of unintended consequences
the spectacle of the state
marshalled against the bandits
cnn declares the international agenda
we hear the shrill call of the tyrants all
for us in this grim and subtle progression
we are confused, the cavalry or the indians
unresolved who the heroes are.
the universal victim whose face is beamed
on the screens of our nightly obscenity parade
plucks an atavistic thread in us
the chaotic struggle of their wild rebellion,
the shadow other leapt from the trauma dramas,
the other that we do not recognise,
more horrible since part of ourselves,
the unflinching passion of its rage,
the vulnerability of our citadels.
In the part of us still unscarred,
neurological recess uncontrolled by the pharmacopoeias of lusts,
acquisitions, appetites and fashions
there is still something that hears
The stirring, wistful call of rebellion.
Our desperation is driven deeper to counter the latent fascism
of this cold and ordered mask of post-liberal democracy
we become afraid, it is somehow wrong
we are numbers in the market, ruled by the gun
the death dealing vocabulary of military industrial giants,
the gun, corrosive messages from the atmospheric mimetic monopoly,
the gun frontier freedom, M16 AK 47 the gun,
the clash of brittle and thin personalities,
follow my leaders,
the gun, in the world we desire and resent,
the gun, the cars, the stars, the gun
we mouth the platitudes of hip hop angst,
we eat the putrefaction, visit upon ourselves
the instruments of medico-legal tit and tuck,
depersonalised fuck, good life in the sun, the gun
the mirror blank reflection of fetishised soul,
genitalia transplanted, vagina designer, penis enhanced
the gun
-o-
Spectators in the coliseum, the clash of archetypes
from the sidelines we admire the misfits and the mullahs
Representing a life of belief however displaced
from Civilisation in recline.
we desire this projected zone of the new struggle,
the front line against the fifth column of consumerism,
yet we suspect our hearts are false
that our lips will thrill and engorge on the nipple
in the dumb down descent to singularity.
We are onlookers at the killing zone, enmeshed
While champions from the tribes
are sent against the goliath
who in response flattens the landscape from the air
the magic bullet driven at the speed of light,
thunder accurate to a metre
but in these nanobits and terabytes
The unforeseen stalks the interstices of the grid
We suffer the famine of consumption,
Looking for what is hidden within us,
a reason to believe
All gone to look for America
all gone to look for America
LitNet: 09 December 2005
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and become a part of our interactive opinion page. Or submit your own poetry
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