by Sjaka S. Septembir
how dishevelled are their spines of diamond!
how far back their breaths extract nourishment
suckling on the feet of Socrates and that lot.
have you seen them? they have the bodies of spies.
look how loaded that female actor is!
breasts heaving mortar rockets, her nipple points are
secretly hollowed to shatter on impact and
rip the innards of its victim to shreds
they are not human! look
how deformed that male actor-thing is, sprouting
heads of mask and his phallus mocking Christ
Allah, Buddha, everything holy.
keep them away these actors! don’t allow
their napalm shadows to touch you!
they will come at you through the gentle hand of TV
their stare secretly feeds us with orange torture
when we just want to forget and laugh
when we want to be free – their laughter secretly lures us
away from the play parks of sanity…
i cannot explain this but i have a feeling,
i just know this is happening, so
beware! beware!
how dangerous they are, the actors!
but where can we run my friends?
where will we find valleys of peaceful shopping?
‘coz these actors are fucken everywhere, man.
they stare down at us from every screen with underlying
Big Brother cynicism and in our dreams they stare at us
with the cold hatred of ghosts. we’re just not aware . . .
nowadays even my friends babble in my ears
about the world being a stage and
‘you should have seen’…this happened in this movie, and
that happened in that movie and NOTHING HAPPENS IN THEIR
OWN LIVES anymore . . . and
everyone is catching this acting disease
delirious with fever they come to act in your life!
i see them re-enacting scenes, lines, from sitcoms
keep them away! keep them away!
they are all secretly growing thangs
flee! run for your lives!
arm yourselves!
yeah, beware of the actors, man . . .
they’re growing second souls
i’m warning you,
beware, my friends beware . . .