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Outlaw Junction News-Chop
MONDAY POEM Edition
Evermore pointless, futile beliefs of the times,
Talking heads repeating ghost's demanding lines.
Loosing all faith HA! GAWN!
Refusing suicide, fuck-'um,
ain't gonna suit the wishes of scum.
Massacre threatens to become a trend,
'contagion' of deaths rushing forward the end.
Meanwhile the ads keep selling unfacts,
And the moguls keep lying to cover their tracks.
Housemaid speaks out 'bout a sexmad upclub dog
She ain't no fame-seeking hussler,
She jus' wants to keep her honest job!
An' the deficit dives, down the debt dunny drain,
an' opulent Republicans
insist their the one's with the brains.
The IMF feeds Greek speculating banks
more foreign public debt,
and no-one goes
to the core of the issue,
no-one wants to vet.....,
Why corruption's the trend in migrant nations,
at one with false gods of old Roman-religious
land-speculating oblations.
Why Indigenie drinks indignance to sleep,
Knowing, not 'praying', their Souls
the Great Spirit will keep.
'Cause they still in their hearts
Live True with the Will of the Lord
And they ain't plagued by that western deceit
of crazy-mind, for being insatiably 'bored'.
And that THE Law, IS their Soul
And to It they stay True.
As dominant Dominoes
keep lying their way through,
the bulwarks Kabbala
psychotically-builds
making a once heart-Green world
a darker, darker blue.
So a white-superiorist proves
that whitey is best
knocking 90 and more
Puts Al Qieda to the test!
A peaceful nation of Vikings Great
slips in shock to this untranquil break
By a 'loner' who saw
that the world is on the way down
and that all the news and political spin
is just fucking around
With everyone's soul
Digging unthinking people
their own bottomless hellhole
And the snow-white views
of those chill-sweet northern fiords
are melting because we all over do
our faith in share-hungry corporate boards.
And that soulless morons
execute management
turning foul our finest act -
of making capital of the firmament.
and in that,
sacrifice
everything that was nice
into profit and perversion
into the popular choice.
And moguls struggle denying dementia
and their inheritors of evil can't talk straight
so warble in garbled accenta.
And expect that mere pay
to a coven of lawyers
will buy them through any
high class courthouse foyer.
Meanwhile down an alley
in every back town,
there's a Mob of Rebels,
long sick of all the fucking around.
And with a record at war,
against some perceived enemy 'man',
gathering arms and True Ideals
into global Outlaw Clans
Cold pressure on fools
who think they got rights
to shit on the poor,
an' give the masses the frights.
Steely hearts, over guilt,
shame and remorse,
they'se building support
on back of one huge iron horse.
An' the snobs in dark age cloaks,
are thinking again, 'bout staying afloat
on the backs of the Workers with no rights,
and keep starving slaves, and non-whites.
And some even thinking,
's time to climb down
from their ivory towers,
an' stop acting like
egomaniacal clowns.
And do the 'tree-change'
an' get dirt unner their 'nails
and start agrarian communities
before the environment totally fails.
But in media newsrooms and studios
dickheads keep clammering for kudos,
GAWN into mindless popularist burrows.
But victims of mummy's
delusional religious spell
“I want MY BAYBEE
to be saved from going to Hell!”
With not the slightest insight
that they are making its road
with all the bullshit THEY tell.
An' in uptown main street,
it's business-as-usual,
e'en though profits are down
an' staff are made casual.
An' flossy white dress-ups
prance frantic on the shop-floor
ever-fretting “how long will it be
before I'm forced out
to sell my fanny like a whore?”
And small business owners,
keep up the smile.
But behind the teeth
heart attacks threaten to file
on more bad money news
of another recession
“I'll just nip over to the chemist
for pills to dull that impending depression!”
'Course that'll cure all,
an' save y' from selling the house!
An' th' boat and wide-screen
stop yer seeing
that you're just a spoiled braindead
and gutless fucking mouse!
An' outside the media's view
homeless numbers are rising
taking to the highways
and the Bliss of the endless horizon.
Each minute more find
out here it's easy to be Soul-deep-glad
and that to Go Nomad, a bloke no go mad!
Away from expectations,
of bank, landlord and wife.
Away at last from the social delusions
and lies of city life!
And that the silence of the forest
is where Happiness Lives,
Or over in the Deserts,
where the endless sand gives
the Heart and mind space
to find oneness with Grace
and that when Brother's happen along
It's a Real Joy to Embrace.
'Cause you've all dropped those pretensions
that shitty-city culture demands,
and that the simplest thrill
of a gorgeous feed is there
with a boomerang, spear,
digging stick, and two good hands.
An' while a white-skin sits locked away
way over in Norway,
for protesting against
the popularist slavery,
I know he agrees with these observations
and that's why he done what he done
for the preservation
of those Pristine Norwegian
glistening horizons.
Then, as the day wanders by,
Mind flicks back down under,
and remembers events around my hometown
of the bushfires and carnage
Black Saturday called down.
Of pyromaniacs striking a match
and burning hundreds of lives
causing all of 'em
to re-thatch
their beliefs about life,
about how we should live.
That something's terribly awry
all take and no give.
Making money raping forests
and killing country
wiping out natives
to slam down urban insanity.
And inquiries dug in
to find what went wrong
but totally ignored
that speculative CRAPitalist culture
was selling life for a song.
And memorials are replayed
each year on the day,
and grants are paid
to rebuild houses burned away.
But same-same bullshit habits
keep playing same-same games
and same-same greed and ignorance
keeps an honorable life in the grave.
And same-same coppers
protect same-same crims,
land corporations
drop pennies in charity bins.
And political priests talk big,
like they here to save the planet!
But everyone knows
they're just out to cunningly scam-it,
with more same-same words
of the same-same bullshit
and that the more they get through,
the closer we all come
to being sent to Hell's pit.
A few cheery words from
Outlaw Junction News-Chop
MONDAY'S POEM Edition
All Praise the Immortals!
All Praise the Warriors who have fallen
Fighting for a Just World!
from the Traveling 4x4 Tent of
BLUE MEANEE
Omaxa bin Eartha
aka Max Earth
Anchor,
for
Outlaw Junction
Media Portal
for the
Three Wise Tribes
ReBalance
Aborigine - Green - Biker
GLOBAL
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ULURUBA
