Protest day: Right from the start

Right from the start
It was there
The flick knife
The teddy boys leer
Who were they working for
Had the gears in their head
Gone outlaw
Right from the beginning
Of the dream
The violence slowly crept in
Dance fights on Saturday nights
Let the law in
The law began to cut and control
To investigate and to parole
Only it was not only the flick knife few
Only it was a whole generation
With the blues
And the stabbing carried on
With Manson
And everyone
And it let the law back in
To legalise and to grin
At the music lovers
They took
Under lock and key
So goodbye to the music we knew
As the institutions grew
With their blankets
Over your sleeping head
And their warm milk
To put you to bed
And it was slowly pushed back
In its hole
And capped and machined
And industrialised
And now it squeaks out through a tap
Into a music warehouse
Where a hat
Sits drinking a cup of tea
And talking madly
To a rabbit

Protest day: The oil began

The oil began
To bubble up
Beneath the ground
A cupful
The stone age man
At first
Didn’t find it
Much useful
The bitumen
Made a good bark
For cladding
Noah’s ark
And ship makers
All through the ages
Liked bitumen
And tar and oil
For waterproofing
Until the car
Came into view
The cup full of oil
Now became a gallon
A barrel
An oil field
Beneath the ocean
A fast bleeding operation
For a greedy car nation
And for taring the roads and
Trains and planes
And rockets to the moon
And the moon in June
And the alien saloon
In star wars
Where the insect man
And the lizard soldiers
As the oil bleeds
From a fatal wound
And the body
Is emptied
By the blood suckers
Of nature
Until there’ll be only
The empty shell
And the earth must
Shrink a little
Grow old a little
Die a little
Each day
And endure
And fight back
With tornado
And volcano
And earthquake
More and more
The bloodsucking
Goes away

Protest day: I went down to the repair shop

I went down to the repair shop
With it wrapped up in cotton wool
I put it on the table
I said here’s what I want you to do
I want you to repair
I want you to mend my broken heart
I’ll pay anything you want
Just repair my broken heart

The repairman said
Don’t you understand
There are things we can mend and things we can’t
You’ve come to the wrong place
You must do an about-face
And take your broken heart
Back out of this place

Well I said
You’ve got a hammer
To hammer it into shape
And you’ve got the hinges
To put it back in place
And you’ve got the knife
To pare away the pain
So please don’t reject me
Or send me back into the rain

Protest day: If you see bad things happening

If you see bad things happening
You have to speak out
And if you’re doing bad things
You got to stop
So too, all you leaders
Who rule
Like tyrants
Here’s what –
When judgement day comes
And all your people
Will rise
And they’ll point at you
And tell all that you do
And they will live on
But they’ll leave you to rot

Protest day: Well you sink to the bottom

Well you’ll sink to the bottom
Sink to the bottom
Of the sea
You were like a glamourous star
Who sailed a luxury yacht
Feeling free

But the world of the dead
Need to be fed
Or they starve
So you’ll sink to the bottom
You’ll sink to the bottom
Of the deep deep deep
Blue sea

Well you’ll
Sink to the bottom
Sink to the bottom
Of the pit
So you’ll fall on your ass
You’ll fall on your ass
Just like this
For as you climb that ladder
You’ll find it don’t reach far enough
And you’ll sing to the bottom
You’ll sink to the bottom
Of that stuff

Protest day: So you worship

So you
a crucifix
but who
Put it there
A soldier of an army
of a general
Who did not care
So look at the crucifix
And what do you see
A dying man crying
Please let me be free
So you crucify him
Like the soldiers do
And sit there watching
As his life ends too
Like the soldiers
And the priests of envy
Thought best to do
To anyone
Who threatened
Their spoils of war
The things that they steal
From the God of us all
So you like the crucifix
But beware how it’s seen
Or you too might be getting
Pilate’s wife’s dream

Protest day: You may live with a tyrannical husband


You may live
With a tyrannical husband
You may live with a tyrannical
The effect is the same
On a large scale
Everyone suffers
On a small scale
Maybe just you
You may be small
With arms
Like rubber pipe
How can you hit back
How can you match?
The relentless fists
The relentless kicks
In the face
From a tyrant
Like him
What do you do?
Climb out
Through the ventilator shaft
Sneak out the back door
Carrying your train ticket
Won’t go back there anymore
Now he’s
A tyrant of nothing
His power is dead
All he can hear now
Are the thoughts in his head
Growing bigger
To the size
Of a mental war
So now you are travelling
By night train
To a new day dawning
Coming your way
And in the distance you see
The most glorious tree
In the land of the free
Is the tree of life

Protest day: The fingers

The fingers
On the hands
Of the tentacles
Of evil
Never stop growing
Even if you
Bomb the hell out of them
From an underground root
They start again
You may be
Eating your picnic
On the grass
In a public park
When you feel touched
By something evil
That you can’t even see
Every one
Needs protection
In the time
Of a virus
In these times of plague
No ones free

protest day: In the land of foreboding

In the land of foreboding
Where eagles fly
And little black taxis
Go driving by
In the sleet and the lightning
And the fires that glow
From the little villages
That burn in the snow
And the shadowed remains
Of what’s left of men
Cover the streets
And are washed down the drains

And lined up on the fences
That smoke in the heat
A thick cloud of vultures
With sores on their feet
And the red moon is rising
In the stumps of a wood
In the land of foreboding
Drenched in man’s blood

In the land of victory
The people are poor
All of their money
Was spent on the war
The ambulances glide
The fire engines are ringing
So, who was the victor
In the land of foreboding

protest day: There’s a face in the corner

eyes in the corner2

There’s a face in the corner
Looking at me
With the two eyes of a man
Who would never be

There’s a face in the corner
Trapped in the wall
His eyes see, his mouth speaks
but he can’t move at all

There is this face in the corner
That’s there as a sign
Trapped in the corner
Biding his time

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