The First World Cry

Bureaucracy kills poetry

Reverse that like gangsta rap

Cause we’re meant to be “tough”

Poetry kills bureaucracy

But honestly it’s about pain

Poetry doesn’t kill

Unless it’s propaganda

It yields

Tears & blood

& Poetry’s primal tender call

Is broken

The spell that cradles life in its sacred balance

Is shattered

& box ticking

Black & white forms

Inflexible to reality

Reductionism at its most violent

All one can do

Is rage & destroy

Bureaucracy brings out the revolutionary in me

& the scream

The red mist

When if left unmolested

My passion lies with the butterflies

& the distant rumble of cockatoos thirsty for water

While reggae soundsystem

Smokes cool & fire over the airwaves.

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