Punktured Experimental by Iain Britton - Poets for Pussy Riot

punktured experimental


the song
adopted a slogan for sanctifying
                      what makes humanity tick

the song has a sore mouth
           the sun has a talent for busting blisters


rain sleeps in trees
uncovers an anger
            digging fists out of dirt

i tear up the tinsel town masks
     which haunt my room
     which hang          suspended
     like flickering lights


a girl prods the moon
            the moon swings /
sucks in its mouth
a hot and cold deposit of emotion
is punktured …

experimental snatchers of shadows
as told by an idiot
hurdle hedgerows / gallop fields
cling to priests
            on the spiritual scrounge


the girl
bares all /      that is
she’s hard at it                plucking oranges

firing off arrowheads of words
packed with promise
the girl sets aside quality time for grooming cats


beyond the road
            known bastards have dug-in deep
                                         have taken up
positions amongst modern-day squatters
they play at being leaders
            blinds are rolled up
                        the curious get their hands burnt
                                    the intrusive get sun smacked

they turn their attention to making planets out of clay


they watch the pulpit men
gag at their collars
drop from high domes
trample on sacred sites

they watch women and children
colouring themselves into extinction


along the road
my house
has been jacked up
so its roof
penetrates the sky
and every day
i climb up a rope
and sit on the roof
and turn on the rain
turn it off

every day
the trees perform
broken planets are washed
down drains
take off their clothes to ensure
            goes wrong