My Name Is (Written In Blue Ink)

My Name Is (Written In Blue Ink)
This is for the tories

For the BNP

For the new labour UKIP liberal democrat offensive to all 5 senses heartless bleeding heart statement-makers who look down the well lit camera lens at me.

Don’t call me josh

That is not my birth name.

Thanks to you

I was christened

Intolerant

Work shy lazy privileged yet

forearms far from framed in silver spoon silk.

——Late night takeaway tastier than his mothers milk.

Faux White guilt played for laughs was my name.

Silently smiling in post wank shame.

I say my name lather rinse repeat my name i say was stand up on your own two feet and nothing else. ——

My name was throw the baby out with the bath water see if the weak want to grow wings.

My name is fuck you for that.

My name is deserve it

My name is earn what you were born with before you ask me to earn what i need to live

and don’t dare try to preserve that electric eel of a heart you have thrashing round in that metal chest  tryin to turn stomachs and minds with semi silent shock treatment to the centre of a good mans brain and pain stinging throbs and lies to pound home ideals when there can be no gain for anyone but your kind.

——My name is steals to eat sometimes, cooks meat in an oven with no numbers on it is as close as I’ve ever felt to a campfire and I’m fucking glad cause fuck camping its cold enough indoors most nights. ——

My name is tell me why I shouldn’t break that bullingdon boys club backbone of yours and burn your hollowed out cardboard world to the ground.

The more money you have the harder it is to fix your eyesight. And the better your vision the less they let you look at.

My name is I know the problem.

My name is I know that I know the problem

My name is I know that knowing I know the problem scares you with your plastic face. The tapped out tv screen shows You smile the whitest of chalk smiles and reflected in your Dover teeth is 50million people with arms and legs made of coal,

they stamp flat your streets

They trample over cracks with feet

Made hard from searching

They beat their chests with fists more human than you every time you steal from them and then arrest them for begging

They are waiting on your wealthy eyes to bear witness

-burning brightly their limbs to reach you faster they haven’t time to count the pace but you will hear them racing upward with every penny you piss away with every brother or sister you eat as appetisers to empty corporate takeovers there are fifty more who find themselves burning for revolution

My name is poetry isn’t funny

My name is poetry isn’t a machine

My name is poetry isn’t a politicians game but for every passionate point passed through slow dying fast performing  lips poetry might be fucking awesome to somebody

My name is Poetry will be your problem.

My name is take your fucking boot off my throat and start panicking, your head is made of ice and my tongue is silver strong enough to crack you

open

claw out pieces of scalp and bone

and carve ‘see how it feels to be helpless’ on the speech centre of you brain so that all you may say for the rest of your days is.

My name is an ex machine.

I don’t walk now so much as drag my feet.

When the rancher comes to part me of my pound of flesh I don’t BELIEVE in miracles cause there’s no need

my soul is made of meat.

My wings are made of fighting my failures.