Time Magazine, it is a Changing

Posted in Jonny Voices, Musings, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 3, 2010 by Jonny Voices

I guess if you were to say that this was roughly based on Bob Dylan’s – Times they are a changing, it may make more sense…  But it’s a kick back to the ridiculous Times Magazine ‘Most Influential People” list 2010.  To believe that in this world where there is so much sickening injustice and perverted sense of morals that some of these fuckwits are even in the list is wrong in the first place.  America, a note…  No!  The full list can be found here, look and cry.

Come gather round cretins explain this here poll,

And admit that you’re idiots and someone fell foul

And accept your opinions are that of pre pubescent girls,

If time magazine to you is worth reading,

And you better start learning or you’ll be dumb all your life

For Time magazine, it is a changing.

Come writers and morons who offend with your words,

And keep your mouth shut if you stay in your herds,

And don’t speak of this trash when once you stood tall,

And there’s no telling you I’m ashamed,

You were a winner back then and now you lose for this sin,

For Time Magazine, it is a changing.

You list senators, politicians below unheard ofs and a troll,

Don’t feed us this tripe, don’t drag us into your hole,

For he that reads on will be he who believes

Intelligence is at a premium,

They’ll soon rattle your rag and trust your dumb views

For Time Magazine, it is a changing.

Come mothers and fathers who birthed all these fools,

Did not you have morals you cannot recall

Your sons and your daughters should have learnt things in school,

The knowledge is rapidly fading,

Please understand or shut up if you’re this thick

For Time Magazine, it is a changing.

The Times might be new but you’re feeding the ill,

The smart wont survive when you force them this pill

As your president now influences less than most,

Our hope is rapidly fading,

And the important one now we’ll later forget

For Times Magazine, it is a changing.

Rapists of the Digital Age

Posted in Jonny Voices, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 2, 2010 by Jonny Voices

I took a picture of some shit

Typed Gordon Brown and Hypocrite

Its theme was anti-governmental

And I only used it as ornamental,

I intended it to scorn the state

To cause some pain in their prostate,

But then the labour got a hold

And turned it up against its mould,

They swapped the Brown for the Cameron

Never ask the fucking cam man

They said they didn’t intend to mention,

Nor inform of its new intention

They said that whilst we all slept

In the D.E act had crept,

Now our pictures could be whores

Thanks to one fucking clause,

43 is a dangerous thing to pass

A blatant kick in the fucking ass,

As long as you pay their licence fee

You can rape my pictures without me,

Or that was the their evil intent,

Till good campaigners said ‘get bent’,

They rallied against the fascist notion

Of government silence and no commotion,

They protested the digital economy

Said no to rape or imposed monopoly,

They said what’s ours is ours

The state can’t use it for a charge,

And civil liberties heaved a sigh

Another day not to die,

But we’re letting our freedom get fucking near

To something that you never hear

Soon the state will own your babies

Fend you off with ifs and maybes,

Sell that child to the highest bidder

Hippy spawn to fascist bigot,

I’m sorry I was too late to head the call,

Next time I wont let freedom fall.

Good work to the people who fought clause 43 in the digital economy act, as well as the act itself, it has been removed but the rest of the act which infringes on your civil liberties goes onwards…

Here’s a link to some of the literature available.

Stop 43

Pirate Party UK

Propaganda Machine

Posted in Jonny Voices, Musings, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 2, 2010 by Jonny Voices

The propaganda machine speeds on relentless

And we can’t do a damn thing to prevent this,

We sit down and take in the lies we all read,

But don’t hear of the tyrant’s or their filthy greed,

Of editors and columnists, of readers and of men

Fearful of the world reported not the world we ken,

Here we sit and dwell till poverty gives abode,

I don’t know any of the families living down my road,

The papers say their kids will stab me

And if I report them the police black flag me,

Estates where once harmonious dreams tried to thrive

Turned out dank and pissed stained where only the strong survive,

The weak are left behind with a sallow look of brain,

Kid’s with knives and suicide is all that oft’ remain,

And false the man who stands with poise and grace,

Preaching to the masses from his second face,

He tells us all is well and we can be so safe

But naught have I read to justify this wraith,

Harbinger of lies but not a paper type,

This propaganda machine spreads some fucking tripe.

Oh Mr Brown

Posted in Jonny Voices, Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 1, 2010 by Jonny Voices

Oh Mr Brown

You make me want to die,

Made me lost

And question why,

Oh Mr Brown

You pushed me to the edge,

Took me to the roof

Left me on the ledge,

Oh Mr Brown,

You refuse to see,

The whole damn world

Is sick of thee,

Oh Mr Brown

You forced our tears,

We sank much deeper

In your years,

Oh Mr Brown

What have you done,

Forced me to drink

And carry a gun,

Oh Mr Brown

An ode to you,

Destroyer of worlds,

Get out.

Dissidents don’t Die

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 12, 2010 by Jonny Voices

I got no interest I got no reason,

I’m the lost generation out of season,

I cower in the freezin’ cold of labour

Unable to be a dreamer or gazer,

My light is dark and my shadow’s long

And all my priorities are very wrong,

And the dissidents are there and thriving,

In every vote there is one hiding,

Waiting for the straw to break,

Hoping Jack pays for his mistake,

The information nazi’s are out in force,

Feeding us a liar’s discourse,

We can’t demonize the already evil

Or hold them accountable if illegal,

We don’t have freedom to living

And the government tells us when we’re forgiving,

And the afterlife is such sweet release,

Compared to economics swift decrease,

And the blood on the hands of those who stood by

Will paint a picture of hell in the sky

And those who continue to vote for a lie

Will be painted in blood after they die.

Lost Loves

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 1, 2010 by Jonny Voices

To every girl that’s left me in a bloodied drunken mess

And screaming on her doorstep outside of her address,

For every girl I’ve lost or had stole along the way

Made my sins repentable and my soul a shade of grey,

I apologise as might I may but I will not forgive

The bitterness I showed you or any evil wish,

I see I may have been too intense for you that time

Though after years of tears I still believe no crime,

Although my blood still flows like it will until I die

It flows with extra pain from every time you made me cry,

Although my voice is hoarse and battered by the strains

Every uttered word for every girl remains,

I couldn’t know your reason in abandoning my life

Or scarring every night I sleep with your mental knife,

I will not psychoanalyse my need to stay with you

I only assume it something with a sick and morbid view,

And even though I’m such a different person than I was

Your face remains inside my tears simply because.

I couldn’t be the me I am with out the you you were,

I couldn’t be the he I am if you were not that her,

I wouldn’t be embittered or twisted with mistrust

If you never left me with that look of pure disgust,

So when I’m stalking you or I refuse to let you go,

You made me this monster and now you fucking know.

Orchestrated Violence

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2010 by Jonny Voices

Orchestra plays with I engaged as conductor
A fist wound with anger and vengeance and rupture
Round this sweet stick held aloft to the sky
To dance with the devil’s callow orchestra I.

My wand comes a crashing with symbols and screams
At the war of my waving and tearing of dreams
Crescendo are willing weary but strong
Waging this war of the waltz so long.

Deny thy sweet note and forsake thy shrill aim
Percussion brings rhythm noise and aggression the same
To force out sweet horns from homes and abode
Gentle strings unwilling are swept through the road.

Swathing through bodies acoustically dreamt
With my wand of loose morals twisted and bent
Cleansing a march directing I see
With bitter-sweet vocals raging at me.

Scream scream fat lady with all you can spare
I rule with wand clenched fist passion and flare
Through director approach you must all abide
Through enforcement and power you all must now hide.

Lyrics I dream at place my grand scheme
Children new notes so early I preen
Gather them with furious hatred to strike
Rumble young notes frustration and fury alike.

Bringing precise control over my band
Each has learnt the supreme example I am
And each must now know where never to tread
For each has seen what horrors my wand may embed.

So fight for me sounds to dampen all other
Rise up a machine stand against him your brother
So fight for those that take splendour amongst you
orchestra spare no thought for what may become you.

Bleed for I conductor director and king
Bleed for decrees promises freedom and sin
Rise up machine and sacrifice kin for all night
Lay down dear orchestra, break ranks the third reich.

Horns adorn the streets oh once more
And strings fear never the knock of your door
Percussion more melody let go the word die
If only not arbeit but musick macht frei.