Static
Turn the TV on,
Change the channel
to static.
It’s the only noise
That stops your mind
from the every day panic.
From the people in authority,
to the banks
taking their fees
To the rigid restrictions
Of your everyday
needs.
There’s a mark
on your face,
It’s only you
who cannot see it.
There’s all these other people
saying
“go ahead and believe it”.
It doesn’t matter where you are,
it’s the scene of the crime.
We’ve bought
all the witness’s,
and your running out of time.
Take some peace,
find some hope,
in other situations.
But denial
is the smile,
of all administrations.
It’s a game
of cat and mouse,
but it’s a secret
about the dog.
That lurks in the shadow,
and guards
our ground
like a god.
Tactics proven over time,
compliance
equals silence.
And it’s also a potent poem,
that silence
rhymes with violence.
What is rigid,
must always be,
with slightest variation.
Bound with-in its confine,
of staunch
continuation.
What bends
is harder to break
and what doesn’t snaps.
What bends
is harder to break,
and what doesn’t snaps.
What bends
is harder to break,
and what doesn’t snaps
and
you’ve got to keep on dancing,
to avoid
the traps.
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