Do I fear you if the crude fact is exact?
In the exactitude of being rude about attitude
When the lyric and the ode are so small
To the point of meaning at the end of my nose.

Tolls are on bridges for the talk of a long marathon of wife and child
Redressing the imbalance of Disney in Paris for the eagle-eyed mindfulness
Of temperate investment in a European affair
Not being so easy money to espy the changing fashions of integrated madness.

Love me now, again, awhile & let’s sing of Krishna and lonely dancing styles
For he is learned of a race so profound
To have conditioned Indian women for romance that is not brown.

Again. To the step. Let’s have one more from Spike Lee:
What is the perfect Fall for a sonagram from thee?
Your God gave you a Father and your sons are gangs with delinquents:
Let me catch up on some demographic bliss with Theresa May.

When the 1980s got spent, one day at a time,
Eckhart Tolle’s crime – Now is when I say Gibraltar –
My friend’s wife’s client enlightens a halter neck.
What the heck? And can you inspect a reject of John Singleton’s assured fashion?

Please sit on the mat. Question that. I’m a minority report
Before I am a law in Tort. Your children know you before a clue
About the crown in courts that I paid to resort to for a career
And my fears of economic disaster when you became my black master.

Boss. Man. Lonely friend. Do that again when I am worth my end.
Yours is not the Christian or the NHS: Jesus gave us his very best.
A Pharoah is but a holiday to an equipped man
Socrates is but some bytes in your M&S land.

Was it my degree and loss of millionaire ambition?
Or was it your S.P. and wife with her child’s A-Level revision?
In such darkness made up like the colour of your face
How much Satanism is coming for the end of your disgrace.

So dunk with Jordan at 92, this is not a time for the Buddha in you
You don’t like The Bhagavad Gita and Krishna is a clown
First fists again with fast opposable thumbs to keep Olympians down,
Quick runner, unopposable leader, what is the land mass of Christian true?

> PJ Harvey >>>>

This is the time of CoVid and wisdom
So lend me some fears and lyrics to dis them?
What is option when China is not Africa
And who started the disease when all I heard was black laughter?

AI Summary

It’s a poem about confronting power, identity, and inherited narratives, where personal fear mixes with politics, race, religion, pop culture, and memory until the self becomes a battleground of competing stories. The speaker wrestles with authority figures—familial, spiritual, governmental, cinematic—trying to understand who they are beneath all the noise. It becomes a portrait of someone questioning every script handed to them, searching for truth in a world of contradictions.

Crude Markets

Control
Escape
Exit The Matrix like a draping curtain
Dividing the wall between me and reality.
Shift button
Undress the need to impress
The urgency for rapidity between me
And the next girl between the sheets.

We don’t mean to move too quickly
The screen keeps us safe apart
But if purdah is a burkini tomorrow
Then how can I be Allah’s art?
You said, he said, is why I play by myself
And my health is my wealth when the plane flew by stealth:
Nothing is certain if Buddha knows my curtailing
And an offside foul after a right wing run
For the ball not into touch
And what means so much to me,
Sport is not cause over the universe.

Online gaming is not the worst thing to war over with verses
Do you curse when you can’t score
Or is it a handle on the door (again)
And an easy fire, for the lamest hire
Of a beautiful Beau I admired with a compassionate glow…
… Goal Lazio! He sang: Gaaaaaooooooooooool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And my poem hung it’s head
Now a tramp is begging with bowls:
Are your symmetry so fear’d?
Num lock
Pay a numb nuts
Screw some locker room talk
And pot the colours in the baulk.

Why did you keep this from me?
/Typo city.
Do you need a Newspaper to be free?
Then [Space] _______ Out!
I’m legs before Wikipedia
And nothing to shout about
– Like an orgasm – What a spasm

Goals and one shot kills are for and against free markets now
Crude.

AI Summary

It’s a poem about control slipping in a digital‑spiritual world where desire, gaming, religion, sport, and masculinity collide, leaving the speaker suspended between screens and selfhood. The voice moves through humour, frustration, and cultural tension, trying to locate authenticity in a landscape of shortcuts, keys, glitches, and missed connections. It becomes a portrait of someone wrestling with the gap between the body’s urgency and the mind’s search for meaning.