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CYMANITE CAPSTICK Vs CHRIS THE POET

OPEN MICROWAVE RADIO Episode 1 -24\10\2017

OPEN MICROWAVE RADIO Episode 2 -25\10\2017

OPEN MICROWAVE RADIO EPISODE 3 - 7 NOV 2017

Cunty Shite Song [May So Horny - MindBleach Mix]CHRIS THE POET.JOJO ENTROPY

kesia

fishcake

Wind. (2019)
He gained all his wisdoms, from the wind,
So he said.
As we smoked banisteria, locked in his shed.
I blew out my lungfull, and the gland in my head,
Which deals with such things, left me nourished and fed.
All disappointments, all yearnings and dread,
Were as scattered as ashes on pyres for the dead.
Why they put up with me, can be anyone's guess,
Agony, ecstasy, subtle duress,
From minds sharp as razors,
Chastised as I'm blessed,
My self disappearing, like bats in the night,
My soul cleansed by creatures, with features so bright,
They may be our watchers, the angels of light.
Strange angels alright, who may deal with our health,
Were kindly reminding, look after yourself,
Till your words are transcribed, and your books on the shelf,
Of those you won't meet, but will share in the wealth,
Of this gift which you squander, and keep to yourself.
Did you dream it was yours?
And for nobody else?
In your knowing, they knew it.
And them knowing brought you to it.
Count your blessings, you're born,
In the place that you're in,
Not a slave, or child soldier, 
Condemned not to win.
Then the visions dispersed,
At the pace that they'd come,
And he smashed his shed window, 
To let in the sun.
To let in the sun.
To let in the sun.
He smashed the shed window,
With his grandfather's pellet gun.

Wind .. 2020

Black and Blue Plaque.

(For Robert Nesta Marley)

A blue plaque, for a rare black man,

Can never give the years back,

Nothing can.

Nor yet the golden hoards, of the fortunes built,

On the slaves backs, and the white's guilt.

Still the game's rigged, and the blood's spilt.

Though there's no price, can take the truth away,

The accumulated interest, on the most earnt, 

Of all of history's unacknowledged back pay,

Would at least lighten loads, and brighten abodes,

On a new day

Black And Blue Plaque

Heroes that stood through the time and the tide
Our expanding, contracting, collapsible ride
Squeeze through the bollards
If bollards there be
Weaving a path with all others born free
Inextricably linked to an invisible tapestry
I don't understand this either
So just try to stay with me
Writing on LSD
I get an image of real wrong -uns
At the bollards there too
Sat astride with a  blob of lube
And a gallon of super glue
Handing out leaflets
About the cunts they have been
With traffic cones atop their shaven domes
They'll know they've been seen
An attempt at redemption
Will earn them some food
And colostomy bags to dispose of their poos
Their own weapon-grade pitbulls, could be chained onto pegs
Starting off chewing toes
And moving on to their legs
BUT NO !!!
I'm obviously joking !
I forgive all these cunts
It's just a headfuck to contend
With right-wing, dead head munts
JUST TO CLARIFY
(do I have to?)
THESE ARE MERELY MY WORDS
I'm just a showman
I'm not nasty, or violent or mean
They're in the show, because we know
So many wrongs there have been
Our times have been a TEMPEST
Man, the things which we have seen
The crimes through time left so unchallenged
Love, exposed could only scream
This we witnessed in the shadow
Cast by purest light of dream
All will not drift unacknowledged
Lost like dust into the winds
As the compromised among us
Seek to weigh in all their sins
Tell me, did you know
From when first you found your way
To the heart of the dance
As it swept you away
The raw involution we live every day
That they'd choke on their bullshit
And just fade away
Inevitibility, no more need to take sides
We need only be hearty
Cos The Pirates don't hide
We're revealing such vistas
Of love, wisdom and truth
That all we're left with is humility
And learning from the youth
They've imbibed by osmosis
Leagues deeper than we
When they were babies in bellys
Which were washed by the sea
From the lowest of lulls
When the wave seemed to die
To the roar of the ninth wave now they reach for the sky
If you wish to envisage
Foretell and foresee
You should hear an old singer
And listen to he
Who has visions to show you much deeper than me
Of the times and the tide and the song of the sea.

Mission Unbeatable

I wrote this to perform with Skip McDonald "Little Axe", of The Sugar Hill House Band, for Gary DS's Wreck N Roll Circus 2010/11

Chris The Poet Mashup - Jello Biafra Vs Deadsilence Syndicate 2012

Chris The Poet