I long for the day when concrete becomes flammable.
A firebrand
I am liquid ire through these ancient misery-cobbled cheapside streets.
And whether you choose to date it from Lao-Tse and Diogenes
Or the heresy of the spirit
Or a man named Winstanley
Or Pierre-Joseph and Mikhail in the Nineteenth Century
There has always been a link between the negative and the free.
And I've been trying for some time to find a new way of saying no to archism.
And I long for the day when grammar, words, syntax fall into place.
A simple gesture or clearing of the throat
becomes a spark in this tinderbox metropolis.
And I will nail it, my archist friends.
In fact, this might be it...
So stop crawling and stand the f*ck up because it's pathetic.
And start dancing because you move like no one else.
And stop begging
It's not worth it
You are stronger.
And start saying no.
So I don't long for the day when I will wake to a soft-focus wiped-clean slate.
I'm just hoping that the same overbearing structures
will be faced with a little more faith,
A handful more people saying no.
And there are many different ways of saying no.