Category: poem

  • Makes Me Wanna’ Hurl

    Makes Me Wanna’ Hurl

    An off the top verse, put to mic, plus freestyle guitar take added post production. Rough. x Fly.

    A new boom-bap to bop the old mad christers,
    Time to take a stand make a band and eat oysters,
    War porn torn across villages and cities
    Building up the war machine with Jesus throwin’ fiddies,


    Hey listen up you dutty man, misreading scriptures uncle sam, which,
    Clog the arteries and fuel the devil archers from the marching forgeries,
    Blowing up schools, hospitals and mortuaries,

    The dead can’t talk but these fingers can tap,
    Dance to the speaker and double rap to my black cap sap lap, your honour
    Slipped in some marijuana now I’m wanted by the hour to throw a cake made of flower,
    Flame sewer sour tower power dower cower for cover, spittin’ bars for my brudda,

    Rake mower grass seeder automatic inter breeder, success and suck seeda’
    Hop in my pan, I fried ya’
    A kindred spirit beside yer’ inside we take slide to
    The outdoors shaped like a funnel spider

    When I see dem’ killa girl, it mek me wanna hurl,
    Killing the innocent and so what be their punishment
    When he see em’ kill a girl, god get angry on the whirl’d
    Blowing up schools what a whirl what a whirl 


    Spun out like a spinning top at the audacity they got,

    War ain’t holy it’s phoney a mugs game of the lonely,
    Bombing away the life they say they give, if only,
    They’d wake up in time space, recognize they out of phase-traced,
    The error of their ways and face the stinging tear gas haze laced    

    With memories of once womb innocent babe
    All from the cradle but some sent early by Trump cabal to their graves,

    They digging and the cabal dancing on em’ then builds a big ball room,
    To swing little dick, sing bronze age dogma like a sequence of strokes,
    Who buys this shit except the business spivs and talk show hosts,
    The return of Jesus on a winged horse, just say neigh
    Not even Elon on Ketamine riding Pete Kegsbreath with wings, let us say,
    Our men don’t support fascists they destroy them,
    Put that in your pipe and smoke it while losing to von neumann

    When you unabashedly kill many little girls, or protect those who do,
    You get the worst place in hell a really low place that’s true,
    That’s the trump fash’ axis pedo power far-wrong netanyahoo,
    Sorry to break it to you but to put this song into review,
    You target innocent young girls and murder them in cold blood without a sorry,
    Shame on you, you lack any moral high ground everything you say is dud and folly
    I’m counting down days until yer trial upon the tally,

  • breath breath

    breath breath


    Breath, Breath, to the KLF

    Life, life, to family and wife

    Curse, curse, on war mongers perverse

    Love, love, all humans hand glove

    Stop it, stop it, those who fire the damn rocket

    See, See, hypocrite BBC

    Peace, Peace, in the middle east

    Greased, Beast, selling arms murder feast



  • POEMMXXIII

    POEMMXXIII

    Some scrawls from 2023.

    Love x
  • Posting on postings (Clip)

    Posting on postings (Clip)

    From the files, under edit compilation. Off the top. S

    wrote a rhyme in wrong order
    chaos simplicity, wrapped and tracked pasta border
    word marauder playing monk on record her
    door to door delivery days
    making beats on the corner chords and ways

    walk the talk tale swerving slug snail
    snug in sun or hail, no email
    beats blown through the letterbox
    feets quick like bipedal fox
    house to house nation
    each family feeling inflation
    wheeling their patience
    painting their places

    generally kind and pleased to meet faces
    I take my paces, step to divide beats
    accents in all places and leave spaces
    for what I don’t know

    hip to honour simplicity and respect the flow     
    thinking on my feet discrete 
    dropping news in the street
    by the end of each day I’m touring complete
    the map is not the territory
    know some maps do cheat
    but these hairy legs work and carry my meat
    rain and shine rambling sublime…

  • Not A Bug But A Feature – R.U Sirius

    Not A Bug But A Feature – R.U Sirius

    Music by Steve Fly Agaric 23
    Video by SatoriD
    Lyrics and Kibitzing by R.U. Sirius

    Not A Bug But A Feature

    We all have a lot of drugs
    It’s not a bug it’s a feature
    And me I’m easily buzzed
    So I can give you a bunch of my drugs

    They tell me hugs not studs
    They tell me don’t piss in the strudel
    But I don’t care for their advice
    I’ve got some drugs to make me nice

    We’re having too much fun
    And all the guns are loaded
    And we were born to be wacked
    And we were made to attack

    We were born inside out
    Like in a Cronenberg movie
    We have lots of strange drugs
    Therefore the whole thing is groovy

    Ken Goffman aka R.U. Sirius

    Taken from the ALBUM: Infinite Gesture (A Work In Progress)

  • Squintin Quarantino – Third Coming

    Third Coming
    Can you hear the clapping, my gums flappin’
    Moronic juicy rhymes keep the songs sap in
    Religion double tappin’ state talk crappin’
    Corona virus wave, another victory lappin
    Third coming
    Crowned for Easter
    Profit from misery is a sign of the beast (er)
    Baste the turkey with Brexit, the piss, Boris teks it
    You vote for rabid dogs and Brexit you get sick
    The virus, Zuck text it, fuck facebook and hex twit
    Take you bitcoin and shove it up your arse slit
    Who work for it, masses of energy, you tit
    No wonder Elon want Bitcoin to hit the ceiling
    Lao Tzu, Hegel and Machiavelli thieving
    Layers of capital, players and neigh sayers
    No socialist agenda to help or pay us
    Third coming
    Business class ass still got a thumb in
    Free ride capital, greedy market slummin’
    Mean motherfuckers own the means to living
    And I keep moaning, remaining, reframing
    Hot under the tongue, breath aiming flaming
    Wildfires
    From coast to coast
    Dumbos spread the virus like its jam on toast
    And my petty rhymes don’t even begin to roast
    Most the guests at the park who insult the host
    The planet’s not ours to save
    Greed stings like aftershave
    A curse on plague DJs who play the plague rave
    Greeting the third wave, go live in your cave
    Third coming
    In the air tonight like a song
    And I’m using a dolphin as a wake-shift bong
    You can thank Boris Trump Putin and Ping
    For the super spread of capital mutations this spring
    There’s a way out, forward, just look
    For the mutualist syndicalist anarchist book
    It may take a while, more destruction and bile
    We must crawl mile after mile after mile
    Eat that third shit sandwich and smile
    I know, my once tasty raps may seem vile
    Some raps snap like a crocodile
    Some traverse the Ganjes and Nile
    I’ve mysteries and manuals on file
    Spit a botticelli mosaic on your floor tile
    Suck satan off kitchen foil
    Cook up spies until they ready boiled
    Memories well oiled
    Serpent’s tooth and tail coiled
    Bed and pants soiled
    Poems loyal, dialed, dyed and royal real
    A bargain bop bonanza, a steel
    A wing on the third rail, another on the wheel
    Third coming
    Yower’ all-grow-ridim can’t latch me
    This patch is quilted with hatched ste
    Setting head fires with match key
    Game set seal, Adamski
    Born inwards Lee
    Burrows down to Gordon Brown’s downfall
    Gordon Bennet wrote it, I just float a bit
    Encircle, we mote it bee line for bass face distance sting
    Third Coming
    Ouch, like a corkwynder to our chops
    Like people without masks buying bog roll in shops
    Britain top of the pops
    But the band eating slops
    The Queen still banking and reaping our crops
    My flipper it flops, the bit penny drops
    From heaven or hell, or Giza cheops
    Capitals zit pops, death toll hit tops
    Exceptionally sexless brexit means worse off
    Oh well, so let’s make a mockery
    Come see my garden pond, deck chairs and rockery
    I fancy pigeons in my flockery
    Writs sound odd like socks, hurry
    In a global pandemic I’m sick like McFlurry
    Furry like mink
    Stinky like skunk
    Tuned up on Sun Ra and Thelonious Monk
    Third coming
    Like a trilogy
    We say three and in dutch it’s drie
    Wonton soup and cantaloupe with brie
    That predictive techx cunht catch flea
    Mimic my octopus, high me, fly me
    Word coming back from the grave
    Forgiveness, NHS not Jesus saves
    Eton enclaves and PPE chums
    Suck up resources and steal the last crumbs
    Tory Brexit death march to distant drums
    Oh diddums, it’s only a life
    Only a son, daughter, mother, father, husband or wife   
    Put down the knife, pick up the pen
    Write it out kids, let us begin
    Hideous crimes by this lying gangerino
    Pale when compared with Squintin Quarantino

      

  • Squintin Quarantino – Unherd Of Covidiot Media.

    Squintin ain’t flinchin’ at the quack mob preachin’
    Covidiot ravers should be sent to plague island, bitchin’
    Lapsed Christian football thugs, fake gangsters, mugs
    Snot nosed middle no-class kids, rotten gammon luggs
    Y’all need some drugs, you give cannabis a bad name
    You organize on Facebook and then criticise same
    No moral compass, no empathy, y’all wampie’s
    The sheep you see in others, led by Donkeys

    I’m no fan of Rutte, that benefits scandalous slut
    Squintin’s been critiquin’ while unherd truthers tweekin’
    I come to wrap you muddafuckers around the wreakin’
    Tongue on fire, heart desire, meme-warfare be speakin,
    Last and next weekend, your damn lies piss takin’
    You organize and support superspreader events
    Crazy rogue serial Qillers, alt-right media savants
    I’ll serve you up like ham-kass croissants
    When my eyes get hot cross, I swing vision with passions          

    Ongehoord, whores and hard-right horrors
    Support for Engles, Bidet and Wilders
    Ongonize on Facebook, Arnold Karskens, bald fuck
    Nasty populists like Trump and Farrage,
    All white hate and populist brainwash-anon mirage
    No funding for anti-fascism, just geld to verk’ for Shell
    What’s that corporate capitalist market research smell?
    Preying on the disenfranchised and the vulnerable
    Stirring up racial tension, Zwarte Pete, abominable

    Branch Covidiots and faithful maskless masses
    Gather in superspreader groups and speak out their asses
    And the police state expands, to kettle the unherd
    Shouting Freedom, dumb dumb minds to mush and turds  
    Hot Yoga Engels can shove it up his hot chakras
    Lange Frans, go dance alone in crap circles at black-mass
    From the demented world of Bannon and Sarkov
    The new Dutch right media can shut up and fuck off.
    I’ve a message for all branch covidian media
    Pack your shit like Trump, I ain’t scared of yer’

    –Squintin Quarantino.

  • Squintin Quarantino: Mink Differently

    Pontoon…that’s twenty twenty one
    Put yer’ mask on, big task ahead son
    SQ Raps, with zoonotic curses
    A pox on capitalists, flock of bats in these verses
    Swoop down with sonor into your town
    James Brown on the speakers (get up, get down)
    The message I got and medium hold it
    Warped my mind, cosmos enfolded (tongue molded)
    My joint hold it
    That weed, sold it, green like Kermit,
    supreme vermin, sermon turnin’
    R-number determine the respect that you earnin’ (Zero?)
    …I’m showing concernin’
    Shut the fucking zoos and the schools, get learnin’

    I look in mirror, and tap the sink
    Double tap my head, think mcfly think
    These rhymes on pages, unpublished gauges
    For Le’ Mink I beg forgiveness from gods and sages
    Animal trade brings a shit parade
    Unless, in a lab, you think the virus made 
    They farmed fur and fucked with the wrong mink
    They picked the wrong Pangolin, wrong day, wrong drink
    Now humanity caged, we all enraged (klink klink)
    Klink klink
    You put Mink and Pangolin and Bats in cages
    Farm anything that walks, now the virus engages
    Pelts and coats and eyebrows and soup
    These mistakes not so man-kind, the guilty group (shot the coup)
    You eat Bat Pangolin soup you die
    You farm mink in squalour, boxed in you pay
    Their natural habitat is 7 miles wide
    They nurse their young on milk, down their burrow, inside
    Netherlands, Denmark and US breed em’
    Kill them, skin them, sell them and bleed them
    Gone done it now, since pig sheep and cow
    Back to bite you in the ass, better fast write a vow
    The wrong Pangolin and bat-mink farms
    The wrong politician and brats test our calms
    When the wrong human spread the wrong virus
    Cull in Denmark, our fault (I’d fire us)
    Like a bat out of hell you’ll be mourning till’ the morning comes
    I’m not surprised, got a gravestone on my drums
    Pull your mind out the slums (hums)
    Rise up with empathy, let it go, plums
    Covid dumbos suck like a thousand jumbos
    Wishful thinking, booze, god, where the mind goes
    Rhymes runnin’ like yer’ nose in a snot green garden
    Overflow hose with this prose keg yer’ pardon

    Practically shut the Zoo, we haven’t any clue
    How far up David Icke’s Rabbit hole do you have to goo
    Until you smell the bull poo, I ask you?
    Study mammals, the variants, tell parents
    Mammalian pathology and Mink/Pangolin physiology
    Check my methodology, questions, juss’ holla G.
    You believe a bio-flu made in a lab just for you
    Why shut a zoo when it’s Bill Gates crew in Wu
    Antivaxx anti-lockdown virus madness crew, fuck you
    I spit compassion for Mink, you just share sick stink
    Common sense and decency on the brink
    National health crisis, you’re brainwashed like Isis
    Killing just as many, your poor mum dad or granny
    Boris Johnson is a pure fanny
    These dead-pan notes are not funny
    Far right thugs and Facebook groups
    Conmen and victims, all fodder for troops
    Caught in the cross-fire, a zoonotic virus
    I put my hands in the air, but nobody would hire us, they fire us!
    Check the papyrus
    2020 vision I got it
    Published in March, I got a fly in my bonnet
    This is no sonnet but if you sun it you get it
    Vitamin DJ, TJ hooka’ beat smell it
    Don’t forget stay fit, still dance and move your feet
    Be discreet with your raps don’t write all caps
    I’m like a Pangolin army walkin’ through cat-flaps
    Flapping chops, cutting drops, wearing a bat bra singing four-tops
    Turvey, squirrely surely shirley, upside down inside from scurvy
    These liars unnerve me, chumocracy dirty
    I’ve been saying this since I was twenty or thirty
    Always wash your hands before eating at the canteeno’
    The virus invisible, I’m Squintin Quarantino

    They put animals and people in cages
    Profited from misery throughout ages
    Confuse health message as illness rages
    The tabloid right wing news-reaper pages
    Have I got news for you
    This shit started in a make-shift wet zoo in Wu
    The chinese contained it, but some tourists plained it
    And some tourists plained it, and some tourists plained it
    Skiers and first-world upper-class dummies
    Picked up corona for a ride to their cities
    Those living in crown cuckoo land, can’t understand what’s new
    A new virus, previously unknown and that much is true
    Faith salespeople and cheats pounce like vultures
    I make word sculptures, music and cultures
    You turn natural disaster into a man-made catastrophe
    By not taking the scientific consensus seriously
    Toilet papers hordes and 5G nutspiracy, embarrass me, callous me?
    Qanon, wake up son, they’re lying about who’s lying
    I’m flowing here trying to keep from sighing
    Singing not crying, walking not flying 
    There’s no denying, right wing leaders cause more dying
    Look at New Zealand and Wuhan, which communist buying?
    First world white capitalist faith-based disaster
    Exceptionalism, conceit makes the virus spread faster
    All the Trump Bolsonaro Bozo incompetence
    Is reflected in numbers, the death and mere pitence
    Largest military and best health care facilities
    Can’t be used to help the people because their for-profit utilities
    Public funds into private purses
    What are you stupid or something, can’t understand these verses
    You’ve been robbed, raped, thraiped and tortured
    They stole the land, the trees, the air from our orchard
    And although its awkward we must walk forward
    For word brings hope and a rant helps my veggies steam
    Environment a melting ice-cream, it doth seem, ripped at the seam
    Tripped over the dream back to the future nightmare
    But I’m awake, ready for the fight, who’s up and out there?
    I’m here training in my yellow submarino’
    Staring at Faceblock, Squintin Quarantino

    –Squintin Quarantino

    See 2020: Squintin Quarantino

  • Cops And Artists: What Do You Stand For?

    Dressed up like an outlaw from bottom to tops
    Question authority, scrutinize cops drinking tea in my flipflops 
    It’s a day job being a bobby, you supposed to stop robbery and
    Stand up for justice, not kneel on the neck, let’s discuss this 

    I ask all cops and bobbies to search their soul 
    To look into their title, their stereotype and role 
    I do the same as a musician and artist 
    I ask myself, am I lazy, contributing to society 
    What are my morals ethics and code of conduct 
    Just try to be nice, just don’t fucking murder anybody. 
    So cops hear me now, what is it you stand for? 
    The protection of people requires more candour 
    The origins of the word Police is polite 
    What the hell are you doing out there tonight? 

    The Polis is the state 
    And the policy is the state, but 
    Polite is the plight of the people with all due respect
    The people YOU are supposed to serve and protect 
    Just try and be polite when you break up a fight 
    Consider who’s bidding you’re doing 
    To be blunt, who’s agenda in office are you serving? 
    Who do you stand for, for who do you kneel? 

    I don’t want to give all police a hard time 
    There’s good cops and bad cops like butchers and Taxi drivers 
    But now’s the time to stand up, once again, and shout NO! 
    There’s a clear racist agenda in many cop gangs 
    Let’s not escalate into pop-shots and bangs 

    Stand up and protest with us 
    Join the calls for justice for justice 
    Look your partners in the eye and talk about this 
    No, it’s not as bad as it is in the U.S 
    But all cops worldwide should confess 
    They distance themselves from this murder mess 
    Prove their benevolence and stand up 
    To a public scrutiny test. 

    Like if a popular rock drummer strangled a security guard
    For demanding he show his wrist band or card 
    Live on stage live on film, you might understand 
    I would write a statement on behalf of all good drummers 
    I would distance myself from this monster with a passion 
    This killer who happens to share my profession 
    Why don’t you, coppa? 
    I’d sit down with any of you motherfuckers over a cuppa’ 
    We can trade stories, tit for tat 
    You tell of your terror and I tell of mine, how’s that? 
    We can trade footage of beatings, murder and crime 
    You show me your criminals, I’ll show you mine
    Of non-violent crime, like growing weed which is fine. 

    And what about the culture, ever thought to protect that 
    How many raves, festivals, and parties have you shut? 
    How many corporate CEOs, Royals, Ministers 
    Presidents and Tsars did you protect? 
    You weigh it up for me, I’m here twisting my drum sticks 
    Ready for your cop marching band of rednecks
    Ready for your bullhorn with my mic, tongue flex.

    No violence just words and video and sounds 
    We do art battle, peaceful yet piercing 
    Not violent but inciting thoughts 
    Artists don’t need policing like the fans of foot sports 
    So celebrate your good cops whomever they may be 
    Just don’t show me Dirty Harry, he’s fiction from TV
    I ask you again as I’m spread up on the wall 
    Cops, what, who and why do you stand for who you stand for? 

    –Squintin Quarantino 

    30/05/2020