10/11/10. By Keston Sutherland.
The police smack the people in Merrion Row, doing
their jobs justice; at Millbank the windows are booted
down, voiding reinforcement; the government boys
look set to make solvency heroic; their genitals in
plaster deck the halls like powerdrills;
You walk from the Strand to Nelson, turn left at
the corner into Whitehall; the police are instructed to
ingratiate camerapersons, by ignoring them; the
technique is borrowed right from the top, tolerance of
poverty is its paradigm; you film them and they film
you, synergy by right;
Because the universe has been outmanoeuvred,
individuals flourish; to put away your childish things,
cut the arts first; say in the prophylactic tone of
establishment sarcasm; what chance for debt reduction
against the sheer nobility of sentiment;
If there will be a revolution in the UK, it will
involve the army; war will continue either way,
sugared by truth or not; love is not the unswerving
professional bias of police dogs; it has to be made from
scratch at the first indication of its possibility.
The French have their avantages à qui, as we in
turn have ours; a peine rentrés les lampions, voilà que
tombent les bonnes; if we don’t fight now, the superrich
will harden into sultans; deeply and truly fuck
them, one-way receptacles;
At the corner of Parliament Square the teenagers
are standing on bus shelters; they are shouting for what
they believe and feeling what you never will; think of
the anger you waste on gifts that might be used on
money; masturbation is not loved, it’s betrayal of the
workers;
You can see the predisposition to moderate
success in politics; in the features of Aaron Porter, the
flexible physiognomy; the thought of sex with him
doesn’t occur to the majority of his delegates; that’s
what makes him perfect for redefining compromise;
The wall of glass smashed in, looks like what
Wordsworth saw; in the flint windbreaker, lying on the
empty floor; to be a shard of broken glass, shining like
life; psychosis as the mirror of your dreams, or justice;
A cop with a freshly bandaged face is the
punctum of the coverage; her wide eyes make fear
emblematic, glint on film intensely; at Sussex they
grabbed them and chucked them down the slope to be
arrested; at the bottom of the slope the women on
minimum wage count the minutes of grind;
I’m far from knowing what to do about any of
this, or after it; but so long as my blood is attached to
the world I live for by its motion; I create this pledge in
utter solemnity, I will never deny it; but burst to make
its love for everyone shower from my heart.
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