And now... poetry!

I lie somewhat, these are actually lyrics to songs that I've been writing. But my hope is that they're poem-y enough to evoke some love from such fine Blades as yourselves

HITLER WAS A LOVER TOO

I knew a man
Who shot himself
And left his wife alone
She cried for years
And found no warmth
Or solace in her home
She drove out to
The bridge and flung
Herself into the foam
What drives such pointless
Wastefulness
Of living flesh and bone?

Love is said
To be a thing
Blind to right and left.
Blind to all
The suffering of
Human consciousnesses
I hear some say
That their love is
The reason they draw breath.
And now we find
Love has a shadow
That harbours the angel of death.


GIRL AND SEA

He is like an ocean
In a wretched despair
A tangled wave
Of seaweed hair
And glowing in the morning
He is as hot as fire
He is a foolish warning
Of a treason tar pit mind.

She is a strange but charming
Girl, and I do believe that we connect
She called me “Darling” once
And I very nearly broke her neck
I'm looking out my window
And I don't like the sound,
Of the waves, or the bite of the cold in my feet,
That makes my head leak and my heart pound.

The sea is drawing pictures
On the grit onshore
Now, I ain't a believer but
I believe that I been here before
The morning after the grand parade
He is tired and unwell
After the demolition of his charade
He is blotched and bruised as an apple in an inkwell.

She throws her towel upon me
With that feeling that I crave,
I clutch her towel and breath her scent
And watch her wade into the waves
I want to dive in that watery clutch
And swim with her, Oh Lord
But I am afraid of the oceans touch
That I watch her from the windy shore.

A ladybug is stranded
On the flagellating foam
The tendrils of the sea perceive
Her scrabbling dotted dome
He gauges her, and like a wolf
H tracks down his prey,
He puffs his chest, and combs his hair
And coddles her away.

In a corner of my mind
I review the play
The thrill of the hunt and the sugar rush
Of charming someone away
You gotta recognise your rank in the pack
A time to love and time to kill,
I don't pretend I don't want her back
But I gotta let her go as she will.



ASPIRATIONAL AUSTRALIA

Hold your aspiration
Like flag bought in a catalogue
Made from Chinese nylon
For your heart of green and gold
Cheer in exaltation
Wash it down with steak and beer
Proud to be Australian
Wave your flag with Aussie cheer.

The good of the nation
Is what works out best for you
The good of the economy
Is the heart of life, true blue
Whatever you are saving for
Get a credit loan, don't wait
In Aspirational Australia
You heap your meal upon the plate.

My teachers all told me
One day I'll grow up to be wise
And I'd make a lot of money
In a 3 piece suit and tie
My Daddy would be so proud
Of the silk upon my hands
And my Ma would tell her all friends
How respectable I am.

I'm grown up now, and like a horse
The whip is at my tail
And the carrot is paraded daily
With brochures in the mail
We all must give something back
So we all may share the dream
In Aspirational Australia
We all support the team.

Now Christmas Day is coming
That ain't hard to miss
I see it in a newspaper
Or when you lick your lips
And circle all the gifts
That bear the brands you like
You could buy a flat screen TV
To put in front of your exercise bike.

And won't your family love you
When they see the gifts that you bought?
Gifts that are atonement
To forget the times you fought
And until the next time
That your family breaks under the strain
In Aspirational Australia
You keep tabs upon the game.

When Christmas Day comes crashing
Down and the New Year looms
And we all look from our windows
Into the maw of our tombs
The lullabies of fortune
Will burst at the seams
And the sleeping ones will waken
Screaming from their dreams.

The flooded dams of consequence
Will overflow inconvenience
And who will climb to shelter
From the raging angry currents?
But for now we'll keep dancing
While we watch for Santa's sleigh
In Aspirational Australia
The future is ever far away.


I hope someone out there gets a kick out of these, I have about a billion more songs/poems/ramblings if anyone wants more.

 

Bumpity bumpity bump bump...

 

Thankyou friend! I'll post a few moar of the same now

SCHITZOPHRENIA

Shadows larger than the walls,
Talk in voices, rise and fall,
A heartbeat screams and scrawls,
The wretch of terror burns the hall,
They’ve planted cameras and machines,
In the toothpaste and TV screens,
To steal all thoughts, and stifled dreams,
To wake the unnamed things, obscene,
A mist drifts through the windows now,
Like the cameras, beyond doubt,
Or can it be? Someone, how,
Do I check credentials beneath my brow?
Lain out huddled, eagle spread,
I must stand by what has been said,
Trembling, mumbling from a mouth of lead,
"It’s all in your head."

The man inside the blanket comes,
And shambles from his perch, he hums,
And drones in fury from four tongues,
That slaver in insane delirium,
He creeps upon all four limbs,
His ravished snarl behind him,
I scream, but my voice is dim,
And shatters inside this prison,
My medication is poison, yes,
But not just to me, him too I guess,
Would bleed from eyes and orifice,
And die in writhing protest,
I hurl the tablets with a squeal,
The fiend lies dead, beyond appeal,
The shattered tablets, so surreal,
Scream “It’s not real”

What is this inside my skin?
Beneath my eyes, leviathan,
Beneath my soul, trapped within,
A slipping grip, wearing thin,
What is this, I feel a tug,
Claws dig beneath the pasty rug,
Of my chest, searing, scorching, smug,
In realisation, a bitter hug,
A brand new dawn, a brand new day,
This thing inside is part of me,
My daughter, my son, my prodigy,
Struggling for birth, clawing in vain,
I hold a cold knife, grasped behind,
A veil, I kill myself for mankind,
I live forever, though I still find,
A doubt, “It’s all in your mind.”


THE TRAVELLER AND THE MONSTERS

There once was a traveller, who was endlessly kind,
And also very foolish, weak of will and mind,
Everyone took advantage of him, took that man for a ride,
When he’d travel along, the villagers would all come a-running.

They’d claim they were sick, yeah, or very poor,
So the stupid kind traveller gave to them of course,
Piece by piece, they’d take more and more,
Until they’d taken even his clothes, and so he walked on down the road.

To the woods, too ashamed to walk naked on the street,
But in the woods were monsters, who were also beggars and cheats,
But his generosity would never admit defeat,
He soon gave away his legs and his arms and his body.

And so the traveller was just a head lying on the dusty floor,
And as quickly as the last monster with his torso walked out the door,
Another came in, and the traveller could not ignore,
Him saying “I need something to eat, it would appear

I have not eaten in three weeks and I feel the last of my energy leaving me,
Please grace me with something to eat, I’m so very hungry”
And he got down upon his bloated, brown knees,
And bowed to the eyes of the traveller, a horrid sight to see.

His golden eyes glisten before the monster and he says
“I’s nothing left but my eyes to give, but I with them I see you as
A poor, hungry beast, please take these eyes from my head,
And eat them that you would not starve and die.”

Without hesitation the monster took his eyes and ate them fast,
“Thank you traveller, for your kindness” says the monster as the last,
Piece of the travellers cornea travelled on past,
The monsters throat, what a horrid sight to see!

“For your kindness I will give you something in return”,
Says the monster, and down in front of the man’s blind head he burned,
The word ‘FOOL’ in the dirt with its paw, before it turned,
And left on down the road, laughing loudly at the joke.

Now, the traveller had never gotten anything back,
For his acts of foolish kindness, his goodness never in lack,
And as his head lay there, in the dusty mud shack,
The traveller shouted with his last, dying yell

“Thank you, thank you!”, his happiness he could not hide,
Such gratitude he’d never felt, or such elation inside,
And from the empty sockets of his face, he cried and he cried,
Tears of blood, dust and joy, until with a smile he died.


GOSPEL OF A FREE MAN

Today a shoot broke the dirt I planted it in,
A little green baby from a womb of earth and nitrogen
Nature multiplies, even if held to be sin.

Adam and Eve offered proof that the tree
Of knowledge drowns in pools of blasphemous perfidy
The traitor Judge Almighty, his ain't jail nothing but a commodity.

The plant of my garden is illegal to grow
But ain’t making nature illegal unnatural to you at all?
The War On Drugs is a war on freedom to know.

What I guess I’m trying to tell you is that I smoke weed
I live by my means and tend to myself like I need
And I give myself liberty to tend to my soil and seed
And I give my voice that Prohibition will never succeed
Now lock me up for sedition, if your ends can really ethically justify your means!

 

Cheers dude, glad you dig it! Was written when I was thinking about the good ol'e Howard years (note the dry sacrasm ) and his whole 'aspirational Australia' thing. Funnily enough, it was also written right around Christmas time - me being a cynical bastard thinking about how shallow and idiotic the Christmas consumerism ritual is and how even more shallow and idiotic Australia Day period is.

Anyhow, cheers again man, good to see another passionate patriotic Australian (there's that dry sarcasm again) about the place.

 

That's crazily prophetic, having being written in '98. Good stuff man, perhaps you will dig this poem/song I wrote a little whiles back in much the same vein;

UNTITLED

I could not sleep last night
My mind was cold like a wave
That rolled in my head, words I have read
Of the dead and diggers of graves.

There are evil men in the world
They own oil and minerals and gold
They are evil men, who buy all they can
And steal what will not be sold.

There's a war going on, my friend
And it's waged against unarmed civilians
We shop in their stores, and we fund all their wars
And we sponsor the murder of millions.

Now I seen you shift in your skin
And say "I never killed anyone"
But our government rapes post-colonial states
And it is we who are the givers of guns.

I watched all the big ships come in
My eyes burned through every hull
Oil debris punched holes in the sea
And the cargo was flooded with skulls.

The wealth of the cargo, it falls
Through the holes in the pockets of men
But at the top of the lot, is the rich wealthy boss
That's the nature of the beast, my friend.

She's a beast that hungers for oil
And is fed on the finest of flesh
From the factories yield, to the farmer of the field
In China, Sudan and Bangladesh.

Now I heard you was restless last night
With the songs of the fallen and hurt
As you let your mind stray, somewhere's far away
Another black body rots in the dirt.

 

Cheers brother! Just a heads up, the link in your sig didn't wanna work for me, made it a bit hard to view your creations in turn...

Might post a few more tonight if I'm not completely drained from the brutal heat

 

[FONT=&quot]As said, 2 more. The second one's a bit long, takes about 10 minutes to sing on guitar

'TILL NEXT TIME AROUND

Day is done, and I’m tired,
The wind is grinding my bones and the dogs are all howling,
My hands are hard like leather,
And my face is cracked and sore,
But I’m too tired to feel angry,
Like I did before,
Fetch my pillow and blanket,
Let me curl up here on the floor,
The day is done, the words are said, and I just don’t care anymore.

The house is shaking, it's a teapot lined with wire,
The steam feebly threatens the wind as it blows,
And I think of all the arguing,
Bottled up, out of sight,
The drudgery of the daytime,
And the heavy weight of the night,
And all the shouting in between,
From two who consider themselves in the right,
Not anymore, I lay down my sword, you can have this fight.

The night has come, and my body's grow cold,
But I need the sobriety of tonight to cool me off,
You use the time alone, like me,
To cry your victim sounds,
But tomorrow, we’ll both have cooled off,
With our feet on solid ground,
It’ll all be good, it’ll all work out,
We won’t argue or even make a sound,
It’ll all die down, it’ll all die down, till next time around.


ANGELS OF THE APOCALYPSE

[/FONT] You stand, hands wrung secretly in dread
A pocket of gold might as well be a pocket of lead
Bleak black and grey suburban jungle fills your head
And the angels of the apocalypse stand guard in God’s stead.

The sky is smeared, bleeding like a crushed grape
And ladies weep and whisper of murder and rape
The sun is sinking behind the buildings, to assure you beyond mistake
That from the angels of the apocalypse there can be no escape.

Do as the Father says, guidance in Noah and his holy dove
Follow these verses carefully, lest you reject his love
And pray upon your knees, for all souls unworthy of
The angels of the apocalypse, the agents of the creator above.

Take good heed
Of our law
Our Lord.
Lest you see
Angels near
Be warned.

Clad in this sacred dress, choked in this holy gown
And veils that choke your face, wings shorn fine now
A 6 year old boy as your guard about your own town
And the angels of the apocalypse, they are the force dragging you down.

And like Leah, you will bear children upon your knees
For Jacob and Sarah, and the children of heaven you will please
Yea, and like the Children of Ham, you are a social disease
And the angels of the apocalypse, you would die to appease.

You clear your throat to speak, but sharply swallow your voice
At remembrance of divine words, command never to hoist
Speech in place of labour, in the word of God you must rejoice
And the angels of the apocalypse, they offer no choice.

Manhattan is on fire, the congressmen are all shot
And cleansed with holy water, uncouth fires once blazing hot
This is the will of God, like it or not
The angels of the apocalypse, they like it a lot.

Take good care
Mind your step
Retain grace
The angels would
Like to remind you
How easily you may be replaced.

The Lord soothes your soul, lay softly down now to sleep
You are so lucky, why then alone do you weep?
The Father is your shepherd, he loves dear all his sheep
But to the angels of the apocalypse, your life, it is cheap.

Beware of your flesh, and the power it might hold
There are freedoms to and freedoms from, yours to withhold
Is the latter, freedom from the whorish blasphemy of old
For the angels of the apocalypse do not permit such freedoms of the soul.

The testament is truth, science fatally flawed
For science texts are by scientists, scripture commissioned by the Lord
For science seeks money, service under God grants no reward
And the angels of the apocalypse shall not be ignored.

The river is burning, the skyline they’ll now expand
And execute any impurities remaining in this land
This is the will of God, this is the highest command
To the angels of the apocalypse, all is going just as planned.

Watch your mind
God knows what
You think inside.
The angels know
All the things
That you hide.

Now the guardians have slain all the prisoners in their cells
The last queer fell with a strangled rebel yell
This is the will of God, the funeral knell
To the angels of the apocalypse, God’s glory prevails.

 

Cheers devilmafia, glad you've gotten information or something (hopefully good ) out of them

 

I've decided this can be a bit of a dumping ground for stuff, and if people wanna read them and gimme some feedback then it's much appreciated

NORMA (based on a Stephen King story, 'The Man Who Loved Flowers')

In the shadow of the city,
With the air all wild and warm,
I walked along and whistled,
With my mind all in a storm,
And a smile upon my face,
And a bound in my stride,
The sunset was dripping honey,
On the asphalt road outside,
And I was looking for my girl,
Norma, my sugar girl.

The radio was blaring,
Words that jumbled all around,
Like beetles in a wine glass,
That rattle and rebound,
I passed a flower vendor,
Who crowned me with a smile,
I bought half a dozen flowers,
After talking for a while,
Said I’d give them to me girl,
Give them to my Norma.

I carried on a-walkin’
With flowers in my fist,
Down upon the avenue,
Thinking of her kiss,
I turned my feet away now,
Down the streets before my eyes,
The sun was going down somewhere,
Above the high rise,
I had a gift for Norma,
For my darling Norma.

I found her walking lonely,
And dispatched my flowers,
My lovers eyes all cloaked up,
In the early night time hour,
She smiled and gave them back,
Said she wasn’t my lover,
Said her name wasn’t Norma,
I reached and found my hammer.
She wasn’t Norma at all,
And I was looking for my Norma.

[FONT=&quot]Norma, I will find you,
Even if I make mistakes,
My hammer is atonement,
For the girls I had to break,
For their brains I mashed and spilled,
And struck from above,
Once my hammer’s put away,
I’m just a young man deep in love.
I love you Norma.[/FONT]


THE PARTY SONG

Oh Janus, let your hair hang long,
Paint a smile on your face, it ain’t a crime,
Banish away the switchblade swan,
And look like you’re having a good time.

And here he is, the legend you saw in your book,
Rosy cheeks and grin, though he’s long been dead,
Someone says “Hey!”, another says “Look!”
And are all of these people just all in your head.

You love to watch their handshake wave,
Hands that flop and pivot from greedy arms,
But don’t they know when you’re laid in your grave,
There won’t be no one there gripping your palm.

With your shovel in hand, you’ve been digging a hole,
You’re covered in dirt from mouth to your thigh,
And you’ve been making a box to parcel your soul,
And been phoning for a new one to arrive.

The fool with the hat pokes with a finger,
And says “Why are you coated in soil?”
You open your mouth to let him hear ya,
But he’s already run off to fetch the pole.

His group of party people,
Come jeer at you, like a crab in a tank,
And they say “Look at the idiot here,
“Look at his dirty long grown hair,
“Can you feel his cowardly fear?,”
“His nasal laugh hurts my ears”
“His ugly face offends my sight,”
“His pompous drawl is worse for his height”
“Would he even put up his fists for a fight?”
“Here is the fool, let’s set him alight”
And the fool has come back, carrying his plank.

You swing your arm, but it is tiny and weak,
And they lash you up on their stake with duct tape and gum,
And as they light up their fire at your feet,
You cry out “Why did I even bother to come?”


BALLAD FOR COLUMBINE

Why would he kill them?
Who commits such a crime?
A boy blew up his school and shot himself down,
What happened to his mind?

The old men,
Wring their leather hands,
At babies in prams,
Whose eyes shine as they play,
Halo and watch MTV,
Counter Strike put a frag,
In his hand and a bomb in his bag,
And Warsow took a gun,
And with pixelated precision,
Wrapped his finger around the trigger,
Cracked his lonely mind with vigour,
The old men wisely explain,
And speak for the gunman’s brain
Games forged the death and pain,
Games are the criminal to blame,
Oh no, we are not to blame,
It is games are the fault to blame.

The preacher man,
Points his finger at him,
And says “He is the fruit of sin”
This is America’s reward,
For turning away from the lord,
God don’t matter, and so,
Why should you matter at all?
He had no fear of God,
He had no sense of right or wrong,
Bring back prayer in class,
Or else suffer Jesus wrath,
The preacher wisely explains,
On behalf of the gunman’s brain
When Answers come from Genesis
We’ll see no more of this,
Oh no, we are not to blame,
Dawkins is the fault to blame.

And Tipper Gore,
Shrieks with fire in her ears,
And mutes all impure to hear,
Metal and NWA,
Have caused this today,
Lyrics vile and profane,
Reap tragedy of reverie,
With a sticker on every face,
And the television wrapped in tape,
We’ll see reduced crime rate!
Isn’t censorship great?!
Mary Whitehouse explains,
To the children’s brains,
Parental advisory is advised,
Wear cotton wool upon your eyes,
And reject the real world outside,
For lyrics the fault to blame.

And the right wing,
Conservatives make their noise,
And holler “Let boys be boys”
Leftist treacherous behaviour,
Has made the schoolyard a danger,
They preach their poison lies,
With Venezuelan allies,
They teach that fags are fine,
And ganja is safer than wine,
And sex ed for the children,
What he needed was discipline,
Ann Coulter explains,
To the rich white man’s brain,
When you soften up established rules,
Kids bring a .45 to school,
This shooting sure is a shame,
But the left wing are the fault to blame.

But not one of them,
Listened to the boy in question,
Knew his criminal direction,
Those who speak for him now,
As though they know how,
Or what pressures face the young,
You are wrinkled fools with idiot tongues,
Stop trying to speak for us,
Your bullshit words are meaningless,
What would the old folks know
About rap and Nintendo?
Those who try to explain,
The source of the shooting shame,
You are out of touch and out of mind,
Your ears are clogged and your eyes are blind,
You attack the youth and what we do,
And try to pin this mess on us too,
But now your words attack you,
And highlight the folly of your campaign,
For it is your ignorance that is the fault to blame.

 

One I wrote about 5 minutes ago, I feel good enough to post it on here

AIN'T THAT FUCKING LOVELY?

I feel happy, I'm feelin' good
I can't put my finger on it
Or pen it to paper
But I don't mind it, I'm feelin' good.

I ain't got nothin' to write
I'm like a balloon
Pulled tight over a bag of air
Hollow, and puffed all up tight.

[FONT=&quot]Yeah, I can't remember the time
Before the prior time
I don't have a watch either
Or a tongue that takes to rhyme.

I been thinkin' lately
They told me I'm different
But they probably mean unique
They probably even love me
And ain't that fucking lovely?[/FONT]

 

[FONT=&quot]One I just wrote, a blues song (who would've guessed...)


ADDICT BLUES

Am I an addict baby, am I hooked?
Can you tell me in the form of a look
That will rock me down to my core
And want me crawling back for more
Am I am addict, baby am I a whore?
For your love.

I feel fine when you look at me
I feel finer yet when you pleasure me
But I feel like a weak little boy
When you lead me around like an idiot toy
But I follow, bashful and coy
For your love.

Do you love me when we touch
Oh, do you love my prying clutch?
And when I push that needle in
You turn all wet and let me in
Baby girl, you're my heroin
My love.[/FONT]

 

Cheers bud, glad you dig it! Here's another;


IN THE PARK (A REVISIT)

The young couple kiss
In the warm, silent park,
Scent of the grass,
Alive and growing,
‘Neath the young lover’s feet,
Fills the air.

His tender embrace,
Her soft breath so fair,
A bird sings triumphant,
Somewhere in the shelter,
Of the trees, who stand watching,
And silently wishing.

Two eyes peer,
From the gnarled, hanging branches,
At the girl beneath that filthy brute,
Making his advances,
The eyes lay in thought thinking,
“She’s a whore anyway.”

The harlot and swine now,
Get up and shoulder off,
While two eyes burn between the,
Branches of the silent trees,
Trace them like lasers as they shuffle,
Towards the bright, bright city.

Two eyes link thought back to their brain,
A mutant splice of fury and pain,
Runs wild in the starry sky,
Winding care free to the window high,
Where the lovers lie in satisfaction,
Culmination of their attraction,
While the that trees harbour the bitter soul,
Scratch in mocking of its lack of control,
To achieve its longing heart’s one bid,
To do as the young lovers did,
Fury and sorrow on the edge of the abyss,
Lonely and longing for one sweet kiss.

Now shamefully it loosens its pants,
Summation of desire in a screaming red dance,
Where wishing fails, hard labour must replace,
With a vertical salute to the slut’s fine face,
Though tonight, it cannot complete the act,
Burning self hatred forces it to retract,
Cries long hard and loud, with its head in its hands,
At all the failed attempts and decapitated plans,
Two eyes bleed grief, while a weary mouth moans,
For all the unloved, unseen and unknown,
Icy dying glory; “I’m so alone”
So very alone.

 

[FONT=&quot]Long time, no update. Thought I'd chuck a couple more up here

MAMA

Mama, I feel alone
Floating far away from my home
And I can’t feel for the pain
Mama, why did they turn me away?
Why do I have to run away?
Fleeting through the foam to a foreign shore.

Mama, my body been beat down
Ain’t got no room to walk around
Mama, we’re all jammed up and crammed in here
Mama, I can’t hear none but
The ocean and the arguments
What are we gonna do when we hit land?

Mama, our boat hit the dirt
And a man with a gun and a grey shirt
Fired a banana clip right on our deck
Mama, am I going to die?
And ain’t my freedom fucking fine?
When they lock up my people in a detention room.

Mama, we been waiting for a month
For our ticket outta here from the government
Mama, we ain’t going on no boat
Mama, we been waiting for a year
For that golden ticket outta here
Mama, we were better off on our boat.

Why do they cut on immigration
But they don’t cut nothing on emissions pollution?
Mama, ain’t they watching the water?
Mama, I can feel the tide
Lapping at my feet from the ocean outside
Mama, am I going to drown in here?
Mama, I’m wading up to my neck
Ain’t got my government ticket yet
Yeah, they think if they’re turn their heads and look the other way we’ll all go away!

Mama, we been waiting a century
In our underwater penitentiary
And now my bones have floated outta here
They washed up in a richboy town
A forensic worker tracked them down
Yeah, they found the killer, ain’t that poetry?
They found him in Kirribili
But he got off laughing free
All he did was blame the other party
But in among the shifting blame
Are my people dead without a name
And who will you blame when all the world has drowned?

MARTYRS

[/FONT]Nelson Mandela,
He sat in prison 27 years,
He sat in prison, dark and lonely,
And he sat down for black Africa,
Oh, Nelson Mandela, you are a martyr,
You are a martyr to me.

Paul Robeson bucked the rules,
He refused to be the white man’s tool,
They jeered at him and said “Hey Paul Robeson,
You’d best go home you commie fool”
Oh, Paul Robeson, you are a martyr,
You are a martyr to me.

Black Kettle was shot like a dog in the back
By a soldier following orders from the Mack
They killed him while
He strove to make peace
In the face of a genocide attack
Mohitaavito, you are a martyr,
You are a martyr to me.

All you men suffered at the hand
Of government establishment agenda and plan
Your courage and conviction
In the face of the weapons
And brutality of the man
Deserves great honour you valiant martyrs[FONT=&quot]
You are martyrs to me.[/FONT]


FREE MARKET SONG

I’ve worked on the harbour all my life,
From the age of 18 till the day I retire,
Or that was the hope and the word on my contract,
To live and to die a wharfie.

Now the government sold up and the private eye looked,
My little port they thinned out their wallet and took,
And cut back my pay, took half my holiday time away,
Little more than minimum wage, dirge of a new age.

And when we defied them and demanded our rights,
To be paid fair for our labour, equality our plight,
They jeered “We own the port and shall rule like we want”
Their free market ate us men alive.

So we went to our union in the hope of protection,
But they’d bought them out too and put them under new directions,
They said “Sorry my fellow, but you’d best up and go,
They’ve bought you out fair, and we can’t help you lads”

I toiled on working, though rage filled my mind,
Geared t’wards the system that failed our kind,
And left the worker to starve, while the rich ate the poor,
And grew the fat, bloated foreman to rap on our doors.

And I spake forth to the workers in our 15 minute break,
“We can’t abide by these standards, arise and awake!
We need to tell these scum that our time has come,
To have the same as all else, in the name of their wealth!”

And picking up our bodies, we coloured the ground,
With the soul of the worker, abused and beat down,
And rapped hard upon their varnished walnut door,
The leering pale warning not valid no more.

They said “Come in alone, and talk we shall have”
And I strode dumb and blind right into their trap,
“You’re gone” spat the boss as he turned to face me,
And told me to get out for security was on rout.

So I went home on fire and phoned up the guv’ner,
And explained the situation to a stone cold receiver,
“They are beyond our regulation, they’re now a private corporation,
“You’re out of a job, but you have superannuation!”

I wagged my tongue in disbelief and tramped my feet in fury,
But my case would not be seen by the local county jury,
So I’m left with my super, and a view of the port
Where I worked for 40 years, now a barbed wire fort.

Now I live with my boy, a drain to his pay check,
With naught but bitter memory and a strangled broken wreck,
Of a lifetime contract kept pure in a trunk,
Where I’m sure to die soon, ain’t nothing to hold me here.

So take heed my friends at the promises of those,
Who line their pockets fine with others bones ‘neath their robes,
Beware of the free market, beware of that snare,
For they’ll eat you alive, pick clean your bones, slurp up every drop of blood and leave you torn bare.
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