|
|
High Roller
By Paul Cameron Brown
1
Terrorism -
left-wing nerd (twin
grapefruits in his hand
gives it away)
winging a stiletto shoe,
spitting on an ashcan
to bring up a bruise or two.
2
Visions are steadier -
I see in the shimmer
blue veins to target,
a silhouette of the rich,
fur wraps in their Bentleys
time to bring up tar,
kick ass in Knightsbridge
with my holiday bomb blast.
3
Bag snatching can be dangerous
let go if you don't want to be
dragged over cobbles behind a Vespa.
4
The Harrod's sign, "please keep
moving" meant business.
5
Pretoria calls as does Manila.
Later, perhaps, Jerusalem, Beirut,
Rawalpindi.
6
Closer to home (I am of the Red Army
faction) is the Bologna train station.
7
Counting hours down
my button line,
three less then
pay-off, squeakily clean.
8
London seems indifferent
to my destiny; even the
tube buskers and streeties
see not a harbinger
but another shuffling
cold-assed long hair.
9
The wired whisky bottle
in the airport locker
will make La Guardia look to
the Statue of Liberty for deliverance,
10
I'll send the Hotel Crillon
so far up the Eiffel
they'll have to sandblast
the sky.
11
My mentors
spic 'n span boys
no wild-eyed radicals
with socks that won't stay up,
rather gumless wizards
taking Confederate rain,
mainlining a little
to keep the nerves steady,
orders direct from Moscow
with money laundered a bit,
beats haphazard work and
petty contracts on local businessmen.
12
Cells (I like the word)
master-mind
co-ordinate and synchronize
revolutionary inter-cooperation.
A swine in Munich
is the same swine
without his leather jerkins
in Santiago.
13
Brains coming apart
on soles of shoes
a pantheon of causes to choose,
let's see, neo-revisionism
counter-revolutionary
criss-crosses with
degenerate bourgeoise
capitalist turncoat,
(both must die)
the urgency lies in
which commands my
holier dross.
14
Brothers in the struggle
need empathetic eyes
to square off
the titanic quarrel.
15
Cleanse the body politic,
reads one directive.
Rub not ointment but horse radish
over decomposed, societal skin,
a brisk cleansing with your strigal
but one revolutionary application.
16
"De-stabilize", the latest buzz word
flies to the manure heap
just kick in the door -
those planter's peanuts
know the score.
17
"Property is theft"
I'm lisping in the burning sun,
Ethiopia done
Tigré and Eritrea
key components
on the Horn's chessboard,
mere human paste
re-patched, re-worn.
18
Ditto, "take-out", liquidate.
Run a new poker thru the rubble. A good
anarchist's cathedral accomplishment
is the chicken coop's destruction.
19
Make the rich pay.
Squeeze the goose to the pips.
All power to the people;
a gun run
is a good itch,
works up a powerful thirst
for Justice;
good mercy disguised
brother Lenin
as a simple dock worker,
the plague-bacillus quickens.
20
Orange filaments of smoke
are better than the factory whistle,
a good arsonist recruits
his own flames,
fans his own fire.
The crackle of desire
over hearth stones
is reward enough in itself.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 143 times.
|
|
