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5.01.2017 South London Din Shanakuz Coruscating bardic rhythmically brilliant the tongue in a tempest from Kate Esther Calvert, Brockley, New Cross, Lewisham and Deptford, diagnosing all that is bogus broken and dangerous, phony fictional fraudulent and counterfeit, all that we fake and we make-believe is spurious, all that is mocked and concocted we simulate, a voice airing trouble in Nunhead and Bexleyheath, Peckham, Herne Hill, Camberwell and Hither Green, speaking of terror domestically and overseas, painting in tongues a world run on bombs lies oil war and corporate criminality, the lines in her mouth circulate a narrative of light she is weaving above heads in Her measurement of hearts and the one lost soul of a global community in Vauxhall, Lambeth, Clapham and Battersea, all that it holds wry warm kind and intelligently helpless, hope-filled boys weep and girls cry in Catford, Erith, Bexleyheath, Belvedere and Earlsfield, Welling, Woolwich, Plumstead and Stoneleigh, Tooting, Dulwich, Brixton and Dartford Heath, in every truthful rhythmic lyricality the goddess of Beckenham and Swanscombe divinity, Calvert's voices from Ceridwen's cauldron. Death loss love pain suffering and fake suits, forged news fair voiced always brilliant never boring slap dash nor watch ye back in Purley, Horn Park, Brockwell, Sidcup and Forest Hill, confusion woven in crisp pictures, reality the culture of this globe inside outside beside Addiscombe, Petts Wood, Chelsfield, Chislehurst and Crokenhill, beyond West Wickham and Halstead's druidic views, Crystal Palace, Croydon, Walworth, Morden, Mitcham, Colliers Wood and Waterloo, moving bridges at Blackfriars, Westminster, South Bank, Surbiton and Kew, across time and space in words placed plaited round bucket lists and boundaries our face race nice great love hate culture going down the tube, left right up aside look away when alighting, keep silent in the carriage head down say nothing walk work turn away, consume just lies oil bombs drive fly buy more and make a contribution to the world outside your window on this one time special earth view, the only one we got, so powerful it speaks in spoken song of a Shakespearean inventor retooling Her own language with the many-voiced coruscating rhythmically brilliant bardic tongue of Kate Tempest aka Calvert from Brockley, New Cross, Lewisham and Deptford, diagnosing all that is bogus broken fucked unfixable and dangerous. posted by Coirí Filíochta on Monday, May 01, 2017 Post a Comment
South London Din Shanakuz Coruscating bardic rhythmically brilliant the tongue in a tempest from Kate Esther Calvert, Brockley, New Cross, Lewisham and Deptford, diagnosing all that is bogus broken and dangerous, phony fictional fraudulent and counterfeit, all that we fake and we make-believe is spurious, all that is mocked and concocted we simulate, a voice airing trouble in Nunhead and Bexleyheath, Peckham, Herne Hill, Camberwell and Hither Green, speaking of terror domestically and overseas, painting in tongues a world run on bombs lies oil war and corporate criminality, the lines in her mouth circulate a narrative of light she is weaving above heads in Her measurement of hearts and the one lost soul of a global community in Vauxhall, Lambeth, Clapham and Battersea, all that it holds wry warm kind and intelligently helpless, hope-filled boys weep and girls cry in Catford, Erith, Bexleyheath, Belvedere and Earlsfield, Welling, Woolwich, Plumstead and Stoneleigh, Tooting, Dulwich, Brixton and Dartford Heath, in every truthful rhythmic lyricality the goddess of Beckenham and Swanscombe divinity, Calvert's voices from Ceridwen's cauldron. Death loss love pain suffering and fake suits, forged news fair voiced always brilliant never boring slap dash nor watch ye back in Purley, Horn Park, Brockwell, Sidcup and Forest Hill, confusion woven in crisp pictures, reality the culture of this globe inside outside beside Addiscombe, Petts Wood, Chelsfield, Chislehurst and Crokenhill, beyond West Wickham and Halstead's druidic views, Crystal Palace, Croydon, Walworth, Morden, Mitcham, Colliers Wood and Waterloo, moving bridges at Blackfriars, Westminster, South Bank, Surbiton and Kew, across time and space in words placed plaited round bucket lists and boundaries our face race nice great love hate culture going down the tube, left right up aside look away when alighting, keep silent in the carriage head down say nothing walk work turn away, consume just lies oil bombs drive fly buy more and make a contribution to the world outside your window on this one time special earth view, the only one we got, so powerful it speaks in spoken song of a Shakespearean inventor retooling Her own language with the many-voiced coruscating rhythmically brilliant bardic tongue of Kate Tempest aka Calvert from Brockley, New Cross, Lewisham and Deptford, diagnosing all that is bogus broken fucked unfixable and dangerous. posted by Coirí Filíochta on Monday, May 01, 2017 Post a Comment
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