1. |
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|
1.One hundred swords of righteous anger
And the weapons of just and last resort
Blades aloft and raze the raised arm!
The salutations to lesser men
Its smile sinks razored into skin
And bites the hand that feeds
Anaemic!
Beware real devils
They dodge and weave
So keenest silver is brandished thus
The errant knives are wielded
And seek to rent (in two) the ashen hand
Block and parry we draw them close
Lain in circumference, the wreathing knot
Binding them all, bind them to the spot
Burnish, polish the mirrored edge
And let reflections betray
The knowing tells of subterfuge
For symbols may lie still and passive
Yet held aloft they swallow us all
(Silver) As salve and sedative
The brutes of apartheid
Shall not withstand
its sharp entrust
One hundred swords of righteous anger
And the weapons of just and last resort!
Ruination!
Repel!
Radiate rage,
radiate thought,
radiate love!
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2. |
Green Messiah
03:44
|
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2. Green messiah
Born of slurry mud
low in churning effluent
and decomposing reek,
a womb!
the cold discomfort renders
casts its resentment in sediment
stoke the verdant sap that seethes
in tuber corpuscles it shall scream
it shall scream!
and rile the quaking leaves to
stand like blades and hither to
the one that is our heathen saviour;
the redeemer in green
the glaucous beast veracious
clarified in the gloom,
woven of the very stalk
knotted up like tendons braced
to carry its bulk of violence
plunder the forests stockade
for the funeral!
the riddling stems now rigid legs
to hold the ravening floral wolves
who slather sap with mucus roar
for the one botanic lord
For meat is a natural foe
Whose slain the verdure infinite
The tithe lays heavy on the land
But never more so than the hearts of man
in the hearts of man
for the wooden
tools of war
for the coming
funeral
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3. |
Enemy Of All Reason
03:16
|
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|
3. Enemy of all reason
The architect of heinous acts
Whose words incite such malice
All is cacophony to be drowned
The forest is no longer passive!
The pike, the sword, the bullet
The rain is raised to rust all of it
The bird song sweet is naught but sour
Shrill the call shall scour
And wreathe everything!
The buckled four prong star
Raised aloft to maim and tar
The verdurous claws sprout legion
To starve this throat of oxygen
Shrill the call shall scour
The binding weed devour
And wreathe everything!
To hate is human
Ground elder observe with fascination
To err is not in its nature
To quench mans purulent flower
The binding weed devour
And wreathe everything!
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4. |
The King Is Risen
03:16
|
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|
4. The king is risen
It scents the briny sweat
On the brow of the farmhand
As he toils to form the soil
In his tessellate image
This is the first violation
The rupture, the pillage
Hung drawn and quartered
The water fouled, the land contorted
It is here that the king is drawn
The conifers bow in reverence
Here the blood is drawn
From those who will all death
Flowers bloom upon its trunk
The wrists and side now opulent
The ruddy rose to mock their shepherd
Stigmatic wounds mere decorative
Expel the bitter scent
Its rhizome nostrils flare
Encouraging the air
To gain favour with natures vehemence
Natures vehemence!
Stalk ye cruciferous christ
The verdant lamb of land as god
From the gloom beneath the bough
Save us our wreathen crowned
|
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5. |
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|
5. The stumps are graves of the land
The worm of man will consume
Burrow in the wizened fields
That has seen the plough
One too many times
As its descent is felt
With a quick inhale
Of painful breath
To cut again what was once left
Rooted, old and gentle
That drew the water through the mantle
All is withered now
The blood let, the table drained
And the green hands raised
In shock to cover trembled mouth
For nature is manifest,
Upright yes, pruned and sheered
With angled metal
Abused, humiliated
And each clod of dirt
Has felt the paw of mans need
It reels, but for it to rest,
It must first tear and pummel and ravage
For man is ripe for the plucking
To be devoured, deny its seeding
Deny its seeding
Chlorophyll disciples!
Quench with suns lick
Sate the earth
For its eminence
For all the altruists
Cometh together
Arbiters (of mans)
cruel hand
|
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6. |
Mother Of All Woe
04:18
|
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|
6. Mother of all woe
What games have been played with tailored flesh!
The tapestries become bindings in their great length
Recording the banal missives of oppression
The fragility of man’s endeavours
They have bestowed us with each link
Forged in the fires of partition
The cages wrought unwillingly unwillingly
Each bar placed with their own words,
with their own words.
Tears, the blood, the sweat,
Quotas filled when all are shed
The labours gone unacknowledged
Shackles grimly greased
The only residue of their toil
She, who stays the raised fist
And fashions blades in secret places
She, the livid experience
Who endured the flaying teeth
Whose soporific held pain at bay
Stone effigy hidden
Inside statues to pretenders
We crack the plaster
To reveal her majesty
For the Mother collects each woe
As liquor for her engine’s flame
To smite the calloused hand
And cut the bridle’s tethering
The body politic
Regains its personhood
Its snarl and cunning rage
And claws the eyes unbidden
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