Capitalist anschluss shits through my anus ear

Detritus of emotion

Remnant of sense

If only you could hear it

Hear embraceable alienation

The glory of the deforming inhuman

Neolithic cyborg hordes all

Crawling tribesmen reduced to slither traces

Bankers basking in percentage point annihilation

Revolutionaries in summit talks

Musicians re-nationalising themselves

If only you could hear it

The reconstituted cess seeking the natural

The bone and brain of historical us in a sump pool

Can we collect it

Recollect it as us

Shit on it

Shit on an invaluable fern token

Shit on the tank the person has become

Shit on mammas stool gift

Shit on Daddas suicided authority

If only you could hear it

How far I’ve come from my self

How far from the lakes and glades of formal subsumption

How far from uselessness

How near to the nothing of overformed ideolect

It’s a formality now to be alienated

A matter of form

A matter of factory spun mini toys as subjects

A hall of mirrors to be worn

A rocket adorned with sponsored glyphs

If only you could hear it

The demise of music

The demise of pleasure

The arising of sado-masochistic release

Victim and liberator in one



    contracted to be ritualistic


    to act the antic human
    to restitch the blocked brick of language and drive

Howard Slater