Category: poem

  • 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    These rhymes on pages, unpublished gauges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 

  • Digital Karmageddon: Blowbackfacebook Algorithm For Profit

    Digital Karmageddon: Blowbackfacebook Algorithm For Profit

    Friends, wake up and smell the trough
    If you want to see photos of my lunch
    and scoff
    at examples of how fortunate I am
    and extreme narcissism,
    please add a turd icon in the comments below
    to illustrate that you want me in your deadly
    newly contaminated horseshitbook
    feed. This post is like a toxic turd

    I will no longer call you facebook
    you act like an advanced A.I but exhibit
    critical errors and floors in your prime
    directives

    you seem to play dumb
    and act ignorant
    displaying your obsession with
    shopping habits
    voting habits
    all under the guise of
    “seeing more posts from your friends”

    you have ushered in a new business model
    to the benefit of the few, the same old boys
    those giant international corporations
    atoms oil mafia and news

    those with all the capital to pay for views
    and publishing contracts
    and an army of lawyers

    Do you still collaborate with
    Cambridge Analytica and all those dodgy
    spy agencies
    Are you still selling all
    our fucking data?

    I don’t want the new Trojan business algorithm
    to shut you, dear friend, out of my frothing face-feeding trough
    nom nom nom

    so please leave a flower at the bus stop
    take a walk outside let sunlight burn onto your brain
    stop comparing yourself and your life
    with that of others

    let the D-wave quantum computing A.I bot know
    without a shadow of doubt  that
    you want me,
    you neeeeed me in your feeding trough
    nom nom nom

    Tell the A.I you want my rants
    and music  and books pictures
    perhaps we should make testimonials to our friends
    what makes you human? what makes facebook alien?

    Here’s an idea, represent each of your 26 assigned friends
    with a letter of the alphabet A-Z
    now make a note of the order in which the posts appear
    apply cabalistic logic and artistic creative force to the letters
    Show the A.I who’s boss

    Choose life
    Choose a job
    Choose a career
    Choose a family
    Try and choose face-friends to compare
    yourself with
    choose good looking friends?
    politically oppositional friends?
    choose friends with your genes and fuck the rest?

    Facebook A.I,
    I think you have initiated WOPR & Skynet, or the social equivalent
    Your programers and staff and backers will face an eternity of
    torture at the merciless hypercomputable hands of
    digital karmageddon, or Blowbackfacebook.
    An Algorithm for Profit
    Facebook…
    get off it.

  • A fake poem by an non entity called Acryllic Figa

    A fake poem by an non entity called Acryllic Figa

    tsars like russian oligarchs
    like white supremacist cop tasers
    like bullydon boys in pork

    tie and blazars like a global air born disease
    Severe Global Airborn Rightwing Syndrome

    Fly: Selected Poetry

    by Steven Pratt

    Link: http://a.co/3of5XFj

    (more…)