Rebellion: Sean

full-macaulay-culkin

Despite coming up with the theme, I had no idea what I was going to do at first. I wanted to have a bit of a laugh, despite the heavy connotations of the subject. I’ve gone for a whistle-stop tour through my various interpretations of what ‘Rebellion’ is; from mundane, day-to-day victories of disobedience to more serious, deep-seated instances of social overhaul. Thankfully, Mr Cameron made it a bit too easy this month. Enjoy.

Heresy of a Low-achiever

 

 

1st world rebellion that goes beyond,
Pick up an old celery that’s close to gone,
Then move the yellow sticker to Châteaubriand,
Self-service the beast, now that’s a feast for one,
Walk out of Marks and Spencer, don’t be teased to run,
Then offer the security a piece of gum,
With all the purity of a priest, a nun

He’s thinking that you’re probably a decent one,
Contraire mon frère, I’m a piece of scum,
I should hang my head in shame like Tulisa’s mum,
But I wonder what on Earth would have Jesus done?
Prob’ly robbed some Reese’s Pieces and a litre rum,
Scarpered from his cabby, let the meter run,
Then chilled in the park in the Easter sun,
Had a perfect day with Lou Reed, a feast of fun,
With more irony than I could write a thesis on

Life without vice it might be peace to some,
But bible bashers really should police their tongue,
If we’re talking binary then they’re at least a one,
On the psychopath scale, the way they fleece the young,
I’ll make my own course just like
Judas Iscariot,
Get off your high horse, off your ludicrous chariot

Take Bukowski, he roused me; a pisshead but proudly,
Took my name off the list of the people that doubt me,
A down and out drifter, conditions were lousy,
But he drank and he wrote and he did it devoutly,
Lacking in wealth but bursting with soul,
The guy that’s chastised cos he’s earning the dole,
Wholly indecent, society’s burden,
But achievement is not always measured in Sterling

So question everything, from mundane to rotten,
Civil injustices, the pain don’t soften,
How can I trust the rules when they change so often?
The only constant is the bottom stays the bottom,
Blacks at the back, probably playing possum,
Thankful that their hands aren’t grazed by cotton,
Til a maverick comes along and a new day can blossom

Her name was Rosa, but nothing could rise her,
She’s sat at the front and they fucking despise her,
Surrounded by sharks with sharpened incisors,
They don’t bite, they just bark, yet her spirit provides her,
With a great deal more fight than the bigot beside her

So with that in my mind I stroll on the grass,
Try confiscate nature? You’re a hole in the arse,
Be immune to etiquette, refrain from reserve,
And treat jobsworths with all the disdain they deserve,
Punk poet, I know it, I’ll have to forego it,
Cooper Clarke got the T Shirt and bloody outgrew it

But who’s a terrorist and who’s freedom fighting?
We’re all human beings, it’s completely frightening,
That agendas can surrender to elite misguiding,
When they wield ungodly weapons like a streak of lightning,
They’re killing us, so we’re killing them back,
It’s tit-for-tat logic, a villainous trap,
Public Enemy were labelled ‘bilious rap’,
Cos they questioned the establishment pinning us back

Our leader sees a rule-breaker on the wane,
Waits for them to pass from across the lane,
Quick shove under the bus then grabs the squashed remains,
And gleefully displays them on his posh terrain,
But when he’s investigated, well he’s not to blame,
His father isn’t either though, so what’s the game?
With hypocrisy in power something’s got to change,
Not much for us to lose but there’s a lot to gain

So fight your own fight til it makes you barmy,
Let it wash over your body like a great tsunami,
From teenage angst to crusading armies,
To the nutters putting ketchup on their bacon sarnies,
Make conformity quiver, assume the position,
Because power corrupts… it’s the human condition

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