To

to have a child?

to become vegetarian?

to stop buying shit

to start fighting and questioning

to create, every day,

to communicate

to describe the world,

to describe our time,

mighty times,

metal has turned into a

synthetic electronic mega bass

that angrily pumps and drills

into the youths’ drugged out,

calabash, squash minds,

Korean e-games that outnumber

the fucking super bowl,

energy drinks, skinniness,

fitness, ripped-ness, dick-ness,

being a millionaire aint nothing these days

says a banker to his child whilst

rows of people in the metro stare at iPhones, tapping,

online dating, swiping, grinding, fucking, loving,

tweeting, Facebooking, Youtubing, selfy-ing,

amidst the white crowd a beautiful woman

wearing a yellow dress plays with her nails and

stairs at the grey, gum stained floor,

she’s dark and poor (therefore ignored),

the stations are covered with political posters,

slogans-

growth, jobs, stewardship,

hope, a brighter future, the party of the people,

do what’s right!

backed by duck faced politicians

with hitler moustaches graffitied over their upper lips,

‘the party for you’ starched out and

replaced by

corrupt whore!

what do you think of the Spanish monarchy?

are you kidding me, fuck the Spanish monarchy,

some say that the king’s rich friends

network with powerful people,

the metro, they claim,

was a gift from some Middle Eastern prince,

the Duchess of Balboa wears an oversized

flamenco dress and fans herself with jam-opulence,

Hola! Cosas! Society, apparently Wednesday is the

day to be seen at the bullfights,

did you see the little princess,

her first birthday, her first communion,

her first public appearance,

did she wear pink?

have we figured out this seasons colour?

this years most in look, hairstyle,

sunglasses, apparently bleached

blond is what up,

and what it takes to be on-top,

don’t stay behind girl

i hear there’s 5 dollar dresses at Zara

made by unlicensed underage workers

in Asia, you don’t even have to worry about

getting them dirty and throwing them away,

they are PERFECT for your children,

Classy, Sea Punk, Abercrombie jock,

is what’s in stock baby,

McDonalds and Mac Apples

Walmart, Exxon,

YPO, the royal golfing residence club,

six pack mega flapping bank accounts,

anyone, everyone can make it in America!

you could bloody well have that Bugatti if it weren’t

for that negativity that’s driving

us all up the walls,

why don’t you get some plastic surgery and

stop fucking complaining about your poor love life,

your broken and corrupted sex drive,

and that silly story about the planet heating up.

dude, you gotta buy yourself some short shorts,

and a fancy t,

gotta hit the gym man,

you’re only young once, you might as well be sexy!

enjoy the buzz, the MDMA,

the sweat, the rave,

the release, the forgetting,

lights, lasers, art, genius,

cocaine, ketamine, purple kush

mushrooms, acid,

numbed down, flaccid,

drunk, fucked up, burned

out, chilled out,

illumined congregation

lost in dance.

just forget,

you might as well study business,

you might as well get that summer internship

and that high income job,

cuz in these days competitive markets

there is no place for softies or poets,

this is the age of the selfish mind,

a world run by self-absorbed men

that buy themselves sports cars,

and imported food,

when the shit hits the fan,

just escape in a yacht to the Bahamas,

go to Paris, London or Rome,

have you taken that South African safari?

Don’t tell me your children have not been to Disney!

Just buy yourself some good Spanish Ham,

don’t frown…eat ham

and oysters, caviar,

apparently life these days is about

those rare moments when

one can indulge oneself with fancy fragua and pate,

luxury, luxury, luxury,

bossing flawlessness,

our new mortal deities

fucked up and empty,

our heroes stripped of virtue and ability,

God? There is no fucking god

but the god of consumption

Sobre los Empleados

their cutlery is cheaper,

not weighed and shiny like the ones we use,

but of the sort we buy in bulk to take on camping trips,

their bathroom is cheaper,

the tiles are plainer, the shower is smaller,

the toilet bowl is an ugly make,

and it is theirs and theirs alone to use

our bathrooms are paved with Italian stones,

the showers are wide, with modernistic walls of glass and imported

shampoos that leave your hair silky smooth,

beauty enhancing salts from the black sea,

anti-aging cream, rollers, blowers, shavers, Q-tips and imported

Sensodine, for sensitive teeth,

these objects and spotless rooms they clean but do not use,

their tempers and disasters are to be kept on the down low,

their voices never out-volume ours,

they stand quietly awaiting our command,

as we laugh, dine, fight, and lounge,

their Christmas is cheaper,

for Christmas Eve they spend at ours,

serving ham cranberries and wine,

and whilst we receive expensive gifts

they stand around dutifully in their bow toes,

staring as hands unwrap the most up to date lightsabers,

purses, watches, vests, all purchased in the West,

their gifts are cheaper,

and at that special time of night,

they line up in nervously, with their kids by their side…

it’s Christmas after all, and gifting seems to be the law,

their gifts are small, all bought in national stores,

the type you find in outlets for three a piece

or maybe a little more, also…

they smell gross, “I just came back from the mall,

there were so many of them, the stench sent me

running out and on my way to Cristina’s new country-club home,

they are so ugly too, their dark faces look like they have been

punched and bruised.”

they are cheaper,

for three or four will work for you alone,

and my Christmas gift is worth more than

two months labour for the poor,

and apart from those who work indoors,

they are not really welcome in our home.

 

“I was a Utopian Socialist till they taxed my inheritance”

a large light lavish flat,

a credit card cashing out,

suits, style, Swiss bank accounts,

to move around whenever I want,

a full set studio on a hill

with panelled glass windows,

a beach house with an infinity pool,

gee, I’ll just wait for my inheritance,

what I do is practically irrelevant,

I’ll pretend to be a Marxist,

eat out, smoke up, drink wine

and act sarcastic

till up went all those red flags,

and black flags,

seventy seven percent inheritance tax,

there goes my lucky ticket,

my birthright,

fuck,

who do those lazy jealous bastards

think they are? taking what belongs to me!

my slimy stomach growls with greed,

we have to kick him out!

replace that crazy dictatorial thief!

we better group up,

take to the streets,

no use,

we need them corporate rich

to pay for a candidate

that’s actually working for us,

replace that devil

before we’re forced to share with

those who walk the streets

with their feet bare,

i don’t care!

It’s easy to be a bourgeois socialist rambler

when your government is an absolute scandal,

to call out the injustice done by the state,

when you don’t even have

to worry about your fate,

a bit of you sneers,

with high class comes

that cocky jubilation

of being on top

of the capitalist pyramid

of utter commodification,

where equality, justice, and a dislike of poverty

are just forms of intellectual masturbation,

moral and spiritual pacification

don’t act all alternative,

so different from the rest,

as if you haven’t lived

a life of opulence,

can’t you see the government

is full of bureaucratic crooks

that will take your hard earned dollars

to buy silk shirts with golden collars,

don’t you know

they’re all in it for the money,

that selfishness dictates,

it is the strongest of all our human traits,

there are no honest politicians,

only clever rhetoricians,

with time you’ll see

that all people care about is me me me

and you’ll give up your silly utopian ideology

 

 

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