Money is as innocent as the Sun (part 4)

money is as innocent as the sun,

as debts, a catch twenty two like situation, of remuneration,

the repayment of one, is the other’s collection,

at a ‘disinterest rate’ of burgeoning catastrophic extortion,

that will have us bound and gagged, dumped on a beach wearing shoes of concrete abstraction,

our muffled cries of Canute-commands falling on the deaf ears of a

sea that’s been leveraged with all the swell of an ocean,

to pay or to pay?; is the question!,

as by no stretch of the imagination,

can this be construed to as a life or death situation …

my preference is for a slow death, about, this speed, ‘bum bum, bum bum‘,

life, is Good!, … and then there’s .. living!, bum bum, bum bum,

living a temporary state of togetherness, death a permanent state of separation,

this is more than enough of a ridiculous situation,

with out us putting up with living, being mistaken,

for some kind of repayment scheme,

for money’s accumulation,

what is this a life for death situation!?,

life; a credit to being, but surely not to be repaid in the living, life a given,

which money has been misshapen, in the accumulating misappropriation, of the commonfold,

in the midst of life, we are in the midst of money,

sold,

the quality of life a subjugated function, a subordinating conjunction,,

to the loneliest consumption, death,

death, between you and me, money, between you, me,

beyond the given, giving or receiving,

no one is owed a life, if no one is owed a living,

a price on your head for not believing, a blasphemy for which,

it’ll cut off your body, and leave you dreaming, on the street,

I repeat, life a given, which money has … ‘ssh’

‘less of this fecund abstraction’, I here you say, ‘careful, think of the market’s reaction,’

life, a derivative collateralisation, lives as in-securitised,

lives debts for collection,

no prizes for guessing which ones,

this innocence,

the appearance that the difference in skin it can not tell,

as it peels it, in the cell, sell, sell, rise from your money alibis,

money alibis like a bell,

done!, done!, done!,

money is as innocent as the sun,

both loosing their shine to this pollution, for history,

come fistory, of mother nature by her youngest son,

while holding the gun,

to a saturation, point, we’re market stricken, a headless chicken,

money did anoint,

to the point, of no return, tipping tipping tipping as we burn,

to distraction, this carbon extraction, for money’s accumulation,

drought nation after drought nation, hungry for rivers down which they’ve been sold,

this reoccurring privatising dispossession, of the commonfold,

fold, fold!, money please!, put your cards on the table and walk,

this gamble was just a fable, cheap talk,

of weather incidence, by and buy and by coincidence,

untold, light’s silence, the silence of light,

the clickless trigger of time’s finishing gun,

light, oh light, what have we done?,

this innocence,

all the graceful elegance,

of the later stages of malnutrition,

salivating in the sea, its like, …

salivating in the sea, salivating in the sea,

money, is as innocent as the sun,

the first and maybe the final con-fusion,

the equivalence of light, oh! oh?, oh, the majesty!, the ‘big we, I am’

sovereignty, sham,

all that glittering light, without an atom of truth, in sight, to see,

usurped by this banking corporatised dynasty, the ‘House of Money’,

to which we owe such a debt of loyalty, that’s the loyalty of debt,

debt, to which the default is set, of this money privatised, in digitalised stone,

the student, the car, the wedding, the home, loan,

debt as security?,

with its oath of liquidity, I swear as a faithful liability,

not to share, or live in solidarity, but to bare, this commodified state of singularity,

and this I swear by the almighty,

privatised money,

the boundary,

between you, me, between the ‘I and the am’,

‘I borrow therefore, I am … spent bought and sold, up for rent, therefore I am!’

circulated by money like money’s Spam,

spun atoms, whirling in berserker like perpetuity,

we have been undone,

we are undone,

our threads cut torn unspun for the respin, of win, win, win, win, win, win ,win,

loose, loose, loose, loose, loose, loose, loose,

panic to choose, shopping din, the selling grin, just put it in the bin, the spending grin, just put it in the bin

spendin, money like a veil, the ‘I am’, shame-faced, the ‘I am’ so alone, when for sale,

spending money like an alibi, paying off your life’s witness to testify,

(hold up credit card)

I swear to spend the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me, money,

I can positively identify, it wasn’t me, I was here, in this country,

check my credit card record, there, you see,

this innocence, a more than unhappy coincidence, in increments of less than a dollar a day,

bargains, taking breaths, taking breaths, breaths taken, in bite size payments to hide,

if you are what you eat, what if you repeatedly swallow your pride,

a Stockholm syndrome epidemic, world wide?,

this is a hostage situation you do need to take a side,

(go into audience and pick up reserved seat notice)

excuse me, erm, sorry to interrupt, You may not have notice but my seat was reserved, I am not with these, people … so if you required any assistance; tying anyone up, foreclosing mortgages, sanctioning benefits, making people redundant, or just persuading these people that there’s nothing to be done … I’m here, I’ve bought the t-shirt ..

money is as innocent as the sun,

light giving appearance as if it’s the only one,

appearance by the light of money,

Prices, prices with out consciences obligations, explanations, or justifications, to reveal,

prices made in the shade if the dim dumb done deal,

prices, with out consequences to feel, to feel, to feel …

Price as consequence,

in the head lights, of the present tense, frozen,

in a token,

casting a shadow puppet adherence,

akin to the cave wall experience,

the Platonic one,

forged appearance, money appearance, appearance money appearance, appearance money,

paying to keep worth in the dark,

worth, a hostage to money, kept quiet, playing dumb, worth playing dumb,?,

but, worth is our intelligence, worth is the more than the parts of any sum,

any sum of money can feel,

any sum of money can reveal,

the prices paid, in the measures taken for money to be made?,

‘made money’, in a Coda Nostra code of silence to conceal,

degree by degree, the earth, is loosing this homely feel,

between you and me, worth, it’s not between you, me, worth,

its between you, me,

it’s given, its in the giving, you see,

can you feel those the chimes of possibility,

that spring coiled in History, to become Ourstory,

the quality of commonality is straining, to ring, from every place of work, leisure, learning and healing,

without it, there’s just that silent stealing,

lives, debts for collection, life an expendable spendable sum,

in the money power power money conundrum,

worth is money paying worth, to keep stum

this innocence, all the spinning confidence,

of a blindfolded auction,

could you pretend to be blindfolded?

‘so here’s an opportunity of a life time to own this, erm, this, lot number … erm … a priceless, object … with a reserve price of … money …do I hear more more, more money ,more, More going once, more, going twice, going, going, going, going, gone… sold for less, to ‘extinction plc, corporation’,

just, salivating in the sea …

money, is as innocent as the sun,

as an accumulating fusion, it takes the qualities of experience, the light from appearance,

and puts them against your head like a gun,

money’s will, will be done,

now there’s a sensation, of such hypnotic persuasion,

your eyelids so heavy, your not seeing anything, understand,

the finger on the trigger belongs to the invisible hand,

has some one been making money in the bank of Eng-land?, when the lights aren’t on,

don’t try and answer that question, your feeling so drowsy,

your loosing a sense of reality,

some one has been making money, in the Bank of England,

they’ve left a note, and it looks like its been written by your hand,

an IOU forged is that a UOI?,

a debt to ourselves?,

oh yeah, sure, that’s not something we would buy,

the would be like, a jury, found guilty,

and facing a sentence,

for reaching a verdict using their reason and conscience,

instead of the tossing of a coin, well no, oh,

ok it would be like, taking the stand to testify, on behalf of the person who picked your pocket, as their alibi, they were with me at that time, kind of,

ok it’s like, the Bank of This-land, being instructed by governments,

to create ‘public financial instruments’, ‘people’s shares’, for want of a better phrase,

and selling them to, to commercial banks to raise, money that pays, the debts, of private institutional banking, for want of a better phrase,

these shares with which the option to redeem,

lives blamed, lives claimed, by money’s benefit scheme,

Qualitative Squeezing, seizing, the qualities of lives, that then have to be lived,

sieved, of their sense of self regarding presence,

Qualitative Squeezing, the seizing of assets,

needed to begin and to end of a day,

no one to tell, but a life time to say,

wait and wait, is to pay.

anguished like a blocked drain,

wait in chronic pain, like a surfer waiting for that wave, ready to be returned with a smile to spite the strain,

like looking down from a slow moving train,

liquidity, drying, drying, a stain,

the reign, of money making money, financing finance,

our eye lids bowed so heavy in this trance, of shame,

that we have not yet risen to dance, in the streets against this illegitimate claim,

by another name, poll taxing poleaxing the disabled the old the poor,

and the young, we have been strung, from day to day,,

paying money’s debts behind and in front of our very eyes,

wide shut with incredulity, and lies,

money’s will, does not have to be, done,

on earth as if it was some kind of eternity, spun, speculation, for accumulation, incineration, for consumption, as GDP, to infinity,

cause this innocence, it does not convince,

so let it be said,

pull the fucking trigger money, go on, cause if this is some kind of eternity then we’re already dead,

sovereignty, privatised with a public guarantee, to pay,

money, is as innocent as the sun,

the money estate borderless, the estate of money, without horizon,

rising as the nation, setting as the gun,

from which, without their lives, so many run,

an empire of extraction, for expansion, expansion for extraction,

an empire, with a vampire like reflection, hu! non!, hui, run!

well, one, to be seen in the eyes of those who have run,

a gift, a conversion, civilisation, to humanity,

an opportunity, knocking on our doors,

to see, to hear, to think, to feel,

to pause, to pause the calamity of money’s laws,

a currency that can not fund wars, humanity,

it does not wash up on shores,

it debases this sham sovereignty of bank corruption-cy,

that put the mock in de-moc-racy,

the bogey refugee, a byline in history,

the headline; ‘a world wide fake identity, scam revealed’,

‘nationality’, in which eyes, ears, hearts, minds, and lips are sealed,

rubber stamped and congealed, in blood untold,

this earth one foreign field, forever exhumed of it’s midas yield, sold, and sold,

until embolden, we wield worth, weaved with this earth,

by the quality in commonality,

that beseeches time to teach us, a humility,

dispossessed of that vanity contest,

of more, more, more to the power of more, than the rest,

and now rest …rest! from this incessant insistence that we are contestants,

in a race against time as money,

it can be rebooted, as trans-nationality, and instituted as the solidarity,

to occupy the money estate,

and to liberate, sovereignty, from banks, from that, and any majesty, that demeans commonality, and from money, as the state of the nation,

a money state, a state of abstract occupation,

in which its collaborators of amoral sophistication,

are rewarded with the benefits claimed from environmental degradation,

their impersonation, of border guards, done unconvincingly,

show me, your papers, oh!, sir, all that paperless paper, sir, that’ll do very nicely,

(mime putting on rubber gloves)

sir, would you like these people to touch their toes,

while these people recount their woes,

a selection of lubricants,

blood, sweat, fears …

as of yet though, relatively few, so, far have run,

from the cradles of civilisation to the cradles of abstraction,

where money won, the competition,

of unintended consequences, and begun, the slow burning,

sacrifices, to the sun,

that from which so many will run,

money, more ran from than to, to you, to me,

a humanitarian emergency,

UN declared,

resolution prepared, passed,

a license to print money,

millions, billions, to support, and welcome every refugee,

hold on, that’s an import, and export license for weapons and their not so safe delivery,

money, a price to meet,

I repeat, life a given,

which money has mistaken, for possession,

this money is like your death,

it’s yours, but it can’t belong to you,

money like life, it can’t be yours,

but, it does belong to you,

this innocence,

our presence as absence, to be, to long,

to share to belong,

money, is as innocent as the sun,

a meteoric collision, of concrete abstraction,

beneath this plume of star dust calculating accumulating percentaged refraction,

in its glaring shade, qualities function,

this dark age like dissolution, of worth,

begs the question, is this, our world of this earth,

the last refuge of money, and religion coincidently,

is the same prism, through which to cleanse the eye of humanity,

in a purity, of unadulterated nullity,

in which the worlds a stage, a phase, in profit and prophecy,

and we’re not here, not literally,

this innocence, life’s equivalence,

excelsis-in-extinctions, excelsis-in-abstraction,

salivating in the sea!, its like, salivating in the sea,

salty? No those are the tears that belong to you and me,

money is as innocent as the sun,

when all is said and done,

behind this appearance an indifference to stun,

so, is it wise, to relying on, the sea to rise,

with all the wroth of an ocean,

in resistance, to this dictatorship of accumulation?,

it’s means and ends calibration, takes nothing into consideration,

least of all the dispossessed impoverished population,

maybe, this innocence,

it hasn’t, and it can’t eclipse our other sun,

our conscience in motion,

proletarian fusion, our power to over come,

to not play dumb or keep stum,

to realise ties, as we revolutionise, ties, to bind, beyond spinning alibis,

lets, rise, rise, rise! with a love that creates as it defies, capitalism’s reduction, capitalism abduction, its ablution,

come on! come on! come on! come on!

money, is as innocent as the sun!,