DEEP SCRATCH

Tag: poetry

  • FACT CHECK, 1-2

    FACT CHECK, 1-2

    Introduction: I woke up this morning and rhymed my mind wheels. Enjoy, love, fly.

    Fact check and false check chicken neck
    Fat Cheque, fake chap, make chat,
    Ignorant ain’t cha’

    I look pale but I got this tribal trail for yer’
    A big whale, like a shark fish swimming tour
    Eternally 23, names wordsley
    Off the top get a mop cuz’ brexshit moves sleazey
    You tease me, with the promise of rhyme
    Debase me, with crime-minister prime

    I’m coming for Boris with Jez and Chuck Norris
    We gonna’ plant a forest, we gonna’ chant a chorus
    For poets who come before us, and claw us a torus

    In spore us inspire us can’t tire us with tyrants
    My family migrants with floral fragrance not vagrants
    This ones for the vegans pagans and Finnegans
    Rap shenanigans in my shattergums sugar-plumb fairy songs
    Sculptured bongs in cultured dishes, make three curses
    And bake four wishes

    Get some tissues, for this fission-fusion
    Boris and Mogg And Farage mirage illusion
    Contusion contortion, lies and distortion
    More than their portion of sleepy Eaton potion
    Dribbled out to the nation
    Logic on ration
    The P.M loves fashion
    And the fashion is fascism and isms and schism
    First-class division for second class vision

    Fact check and false check chicken neck
    Fat Cheque, fake chap, make chat,
    Ignorant ain’t cha’

    Fuck Boris, don’t let the lies permeate
    Hold the motherfucker to each word turd mate
    Tabloid media failing yer big tech selling yer’
    Big dicks swinging yer getting fucked I’m tellin’ yer
    Wake up smell it year
    The writings pun the wall and it’s led by donkeys
    The two blonde beasts were both bred by honkies
    War carded, retorytarded
    fart in the face of democracy, Trump
    A bull in the office of orifice, Boris

    So I leave that behind and get my ass outside
    Take a trip to the park and go “weeeee” down the slide
    I skip some dog shit and write a new hit
    I got more on my shoe than I know what to doo-doo with
    so I pick it and flip it and scrape some more off
    While thinking of Putin and Mikhail…Gorbachev
    Having a loff’ getting shit of my shoes
    The arbitrary rhyme scheme to mean tepid blues

    It looked like choco ice cream but
    Tasted like marmite mixed with
    Vaseline, a brexshit dream

    Fact check and false check chicken neck
    Fat Cheque, fake chap, make chat,
    Ignorant ain’t cha’

    Well listen, they’re not all this, and all that
    I’m not all steve and I’m not all Pratt
    Don’t carry a gat or a bat or gun
    Just a couple of pens, some vinyl and drum
    Ruppa-Pum-Pummel your feet with stones
    Eat hot dog buns with spiced microphones

    Fight waves and resistance with minimal drag
    like a sea hag witch shaman poet slag
    lightning bolt one-leg from Winnipoop-peg
    Smoked your last roach and drank the last dreg

    Goodbye summer wine hello winter rant
    When I write off the dome its me, ste, itinerant
    Squinity butterfly sprinty, with an Irish tint
    Favourite colours green, and flavour mint

    I put your tongue in a splint
    And sent your eyeballs to Clent
    Nose to the grind
    And ears important
    Head in the clouds and feet on the slab
    Gimme some acid to unleash my splift’ of the gob

    These rhymes on a cob
    This life of a slob, firing back at the mob
    Who lost you your job
    With lies from their club
    I shoot with this dub
    I scoot to the nub
    Just dance to the sub
    Sit up, don’t be a slouch like Mogg
    Be like Jez
    Make plans to heal this mezz’
    Confess and test the best of yourself
    Get abreast of yourself
    Find the rest of yourself
    Find the others

    Oh, oh, oh….find, the others
    Agree to tolerate their manias
    If they can tolerate yours
    Be like flipper not Jaws
    Take a walk take a pause
    Reflect and direct the love in all ways
    The hated are fated to be elated with antiquated hate

    Fact check and false check chicken neck
    Fat Cheque, fake chap, make chat,
    Ignorant ain’t cha’

    A poet avoids rhyme like the plague
    Forcing clarity of sanity distinguished from vague
    These rhymes are childish
    Puns served hot and mildish
    English tingle ish’ single this, finger lift, to right wing toffs

    I wish I wish in just one stanza
    You’d explain the brexit extravaganza
    Hex it, stop it, smell it, chuck it, heal it, steal it,
    Few walk the talk, few truly feel it
    If you want to fight Trump you have to stop Brexit
    That’s it, in a nutshell, a gut smell, say what now?
    What punk-rock rap includes lyrics from Bercow?
    Get justified ancient and Moo Moo
    Come together and tackle the doo-doo

    Fact check and false check chicken neck
    Fat Cheque, fake chap, make chat,
    Ignorant ain’t cha’

    Fact check, 1-2.

    –Steve Fly 9th, October, 2019. Amsterdblam.

    STEVE FLY: SELECTED POETRY

  • Climate Transformation By Human Ignorance

    Holy shit!
    My response to reading this:

    The Uninhabitable Earth: Famine, economic collapse, a sun that cooks us: What climate change could wreak — sooner than you think.

    If we were to be honest, really open up and try to comprehend reality
    We might begin planting trees tonight, naked, sweating in panic.
    Begin campaigning to end fossil fuel use tomorrow, quick flash
    Might dump the car / motorbike / and jam all engines of destruction
    We might pray for forgiveness for all the plastic we ever used
    and then threw away, pray it does not haunt us tonight
    Pray that the seeds germinate in time, and nations plant billions worldwide, hurry hurry

    If we were to see the reality of climate change, as it actually is, we might scream “NO”
    We might throw ourselves in front of bulldozers, stop fracking with hunger strikes
    Suddenly campaign day and night for regulation and strict laws
    Demanding a curbing to the huge global industrial monsters burning fossil fuels
    We might plead with the military to scale it back, stop all wars immediately
    stop wasting energy on killingry. Man. Stop it.

    Denial? Time to look the facts in the face, we fucked if we don’t plant trees man
    Time to look abroad, to mean, outer space? (say what)
    Maybe Bob and Tim were right after all?
    Maybe they foresaw the trajectory of the humans scrawled on the wall
    And thought, we gotta’ get off the planet damn it? 

    No, silly, it’s not that they didn’t want to save it, good god, how they tried
    But perhaps they saw the downward trend into narcissism and ignorance
    And realized, “we have to look elsewhere, a jail break from prison planet”
    Okay, far out, but just keep that in mind and

    Stop burning fucking fossil fuel, please. For your children’s sakes, at least.
    You might start a band, write songs and make a movie , desperate to speak
    Tweekin’ at the thought of total environmental collapse
    Keep Calm and carry on being a smug self righteous douche’
    Take no notice, carry on regardless, project climate fear, fingers in ears, head in beers

    Tears may roll down your cheek when you get a peek at the future
    And you could have spoken out, you could have done more (I damn well could have) 
    Bleak for humanity bleak for the planet to be honest
    Who is honest these days? We all want to smooth things over with
    “It’ll be all right bab” well no. I say, It will not be feckin’ all right.
    Wake the fuck up and smell the glacial melt and methane release

    Do whatever it takes, my advice
    Plant TREES. (Why not make em’ skunky and hempy)

    love all the people

    –steve fly

  • DJ Steve Fly Agaric – Bear Home (2009)

    DJ Steve Fly Agaric – Bear Home (2009)

    Bear Home DJ Mix by DJ fly Agaric 23. (Amsterdam)
    21.00 – 22.30 PM. July 19th 2009.

    — DJ Fly Agaric 23.

    1. Time Zones – Negative Land

    2. Blow – Miles Davis

    3. Fugue In A Minor – Modern Jazz Quartet

    4. Lenny Bruce – Berkley Concert (on the postman)

    5. Teenager’s letter of promises – Sun Ra (Edit)

    6. Colours Beyond Colours – DJ Food

    7. Something about John Coltrane – Alice Coltrane

    8. Cosmic Chaos – Sun Ra and his Solar Arkestra (edit)

    9. Shopping Market – Lord Buckley

    10. Criss-Cross – Theolonious Monk

    11. The Black Cross – Lord Buckley (edit)

    12. Parker’s Mood – Charlie Parker

    13. Parker’s Mood – Eddie Jefferson

    14. Six Robots – John Barry

    15. Cold Hearted Bastard – William S. Burroughs.

    16. ABSTRACT “I” – Sun Ra

    17. Ticket Agent – Lightning Hoptkins

    18. Walking Blues – Robert Johnson

    19. Fattening Frogs For Snakes – Sonny Boy Williamson

    20. On The Sunny Side Of The Street – Louis Armstrong.

    21. Laughing At Life – Lester Young & Billie Holiday

    22. The Pope: Live at The Vatican – Cheech & Chong.

    23. Versailles – Modern Jazz Quartet

    24. The Golden Striker – Modern Jazz Quartet

    25. Tensions – Charles Mingus

    26. Giant Steps – John Coltrane

    27. Tune Up – Sonny Rollins

    28. God’s Own Drunk – Lord Buckley.

    Released by:
    FLY AGARIC STUDIO’S.
    Release date:
    19 July 2009

  • Live Audio From Out Spoken (2018)

  • 2019 First Thought At Work

    2019 First Thought At Work

    Keep it green in 2019
    the number is nine, no slumber
    no time
    yes mate the word of the year is, climate

    Gonna’ be a hot one, a wet one
    a bloody one, a funny one?
    Mean one, lean one, 2019 one.

    Two thousand and nineteen years
    since Christ on a bike, with a mic
    (wha?) ocean rise, fire, storms, oh shit, look.

    Roman Gregorian chanting time loops here
    Cletic Indian chanting space there
    where is the calendar place?
    locate 2019, now’s the time
    the bridge persists

  • Steve Fly At Outspoken In Amsterdam (September 28th)

  • Passport To Brexit

  • Late Night Freestyle

    #PassportToBrexit

     

     

  • Reading Finnegans Wake: Bloomsday In Antwerp 2018

    maximum respect to DJ Stephen MC, lighting, camera crew, chief grip and soundancers, and special FX from old bill.

  • Some Limericks and War Business

    There was a dumb dotard called Trump
    who looked like a BBC flump
    his future seems stormy
    and wig rather tawny
    and mouth like an old camels rump.
    The was an old lady Theresa
    who lied and stole and she fleeced ya’
    she lived on young blood
    and come to no good
    I hope that the jail don’t release her.

     

    War Business?
    get a good education from your nation want to win all, and leave competition to annihilation? Business as war and war as business, into battle, into rivalry with your laws of mischief. For the win, the last man or women standing to have beat all the others, even sisters and brothers, to watch them squirm in a looser booze life, to show them who’s the boss. To have no thought for the loss. The majority are beat down. Beat down, and yet still breathing some how. So singing and dancing, working and working and dying of dichotomy. Dying a looser in a war competition. But with everything at stake, life itself business war-machine stealing food off the shelf,
    how lucky and fortunate the 1st world countries are, with lawyers and bankers and sales and PR Sell a bomb, sell a man, sell a story, fuck it, limerick bro. Fair?