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Wake Up 23/12/02

the morning sways to and fro at the back of the stage
highlights spotlights, dark holes and cranies when the curtain's down
behind the bleary eyed looking out upon the audience
crying lying dying to be 
up there

it stops
looks out window
coughs
looks out window
melts
looks out window
sun explodes...

this war is dark, its images of bodies torn from their mental theme park in the leisure time of heritage and history, all admitted free with large wagon wheels and plastic tanks rolling over the mangled forms, there they go flying off to heaven there they go receiving thanks helicopter blades liquifying the rising ghosts chased by the seas rising tides
the great leveller, the bon homme born in sand dunes and sattellites of love on reality TV what blows also sucks
Granite statues carved in worship and curses, smart bombs and emptying purses theyre gone I tell you, gone!
capturing the imagination like a throttled swan, twisting riches from stones like parading batons cheerleading chinese burn bones the want of war homes cradling nightmares
up to 3 nobel peace prize fanfares for the forgotten
travelling over rubbish heaps of slave worked tea and cotton balls to the glutton in a ten dollar hat
the crimes of mystery solved by the rich growing fat swatting flies on the wall with a baseball bat
to form a queue endless, wondering what to do senseless
stormy teacups swollen in two birds one headstone the good and the bad and you whimpering in the ashes of heaven.