I would like to ask for some audience participation, at this point, if I may,
No matter how much thought we give money,
Nothing is bought, but worry,
It has a short, and defensive, fuse, money’s muse,
My meditations on money it will often refuse,
I really don’t understand what it’s got to loose, money,
And why its muse should get so funny,
When I’m searching for money’s inspiration,
Its as if I’m making some kind of allegation,
I wouldn’t be surprised if at the end of this journey, into money,
We don’t find a tubby bald North American man sitting in the dark, saying, “oh the worry, the worry”.
All money appearing in this work is fictitious, Any resemblance to real money, dead or alive is purely coincidental,
I have had to insert that or money’s muse was gonna go fundamental,
Thinking about money, a synonym for worry?
an inspiration to bury, My head in the sand,
Because, since giving up the day job to do this, things have got out of hand,
It appears that dreams only come true if they make money and, Money only comes true if it makes dreams,
Now there is a vicious circle, in which hopes become money’s schemes,
So, I got some sand to go in a bucket the other day,
And I know realistically, it won’t keep the bailiffs at bay,
But, when my head is in side, I can’t hear a sound,
though, as of yet no relief has been found,
cause i can hear some one thinking, and its me, and its about money,
So, I was thinking about money,
And it might just be me, but, may be its a forgery, minted?
Have you ever heard, such a smoke screen of a word, for something that’s just printed?
and if money is just printed, just a print! then deep down, deep down we’re all skint.
Skinflint skint, skint, the past participial of to skin, money thin skin, Circulation skin thin, imagination-thin skin, with limitless degrees of sep-ar-a …
Oh, maybe I shouldn’t be expressing such thoughts in a public place,
I could end up in the courts, with charges to face, of treason,
for even suggesting there is a reason,
to believe that legal tender, is just a poisonous printed paper pretender,
Yes, sorry, I’ve clearly misunderstood the situation, and it’s a magical ritual incantation, minting,
not just a copying, not just a printing, and we are all under its spell, day after day in this rising whirl pool of a wishing well, of buy (ha!) borrow (ha!) sell (ha!), buy borrow sell!buy borrow sell!,
and please don’t think I would dream of making any comparison between the picture of Dorian Gray?
and the power of money expanding with each circulating dream day, and its origin, its servant, with nothing to say,
in a state of somnambulant servile paralysis,
In need of some community analysis, we have nothing to say, just buy!, borrow!, sell!, pay!,
Pay, pay, thats an interesting word to say, mm, Pay, It smacks of obey,
to pay and pay and pay until our dying …
If death is a penalty, are we really living or just parking? Is it an offence to fall asleep at the wheel, when parking? Is there a fine to pay?
Pay, pay! a bit of a kinky word to say, pay, Not the sort of word you want to use with to much conviction,
You could result in some inappropriate friction,
pay, just pay, just payments, just Wars, our imagination’s sores,
to those financial action scenes Hollywood adores,
The only way to stop a bad man with money, is a good man with money, money chasing money down narrowing corridors,
into merchant diced stores,
its good money fighting bad money for money’s cause,
I know that its often said that with a big lie,
That it’s not visible just to the naked eye? But … Banks and their governments a long and elaborate con?,
Surely, they’re not dissimilar to the religious one,
except, gods are in stories we told, and money is telling our story in continuous unfold,
While money makes money we are awash with coincidence,
money is not worth the paper it’s printed on, ups!, Is that’s a bit strong?,
Ok, money is worth more than the paper it’s printed on, wait a minute that sounds like a con,
OK, so money is worth more and less than the paper its printed on, Hold on that’s a contradiction, but, money is worth more and less than the papers it’s printed on …
How can what something is worth, be more and less than what it is?,
by the way this isn’t a quiz, though I must ask,
when and where did we decide what is worth money?
Oh, sorry I think I’ve got the the wrong way round, that sounds a bit funny,
when and where did we decide what is worth money, or not?
We haven’t left that up to those who have got so much more than a lot?
Those who are trying to write our plot, I think not,
cause when you’ve got money, its really got you, and when you haven’t got money,
it’s really got you then, so where and when, did we decide what is worth money or not,
I’m assuming that decision was not made on the basis of what we have or haven’t got,
I think I’m talking about the sub plot, the real we, the social substance of what we like to call the basis of democracy,
Oh dear, have we left it up to money to decide for itself what it is or isn’t worth,
oh dear, how are we going to explain that to our children’s children? ah, here’s an idea, Tell them, money not of this earth,
But, how did it get here? In some meteor shower,
Discovered by monks in an ivory tower?
and where did it come from?
I don’t know, but I’ve got some,
Ah, (take out a £10) Darwin, Science, (turn note)
Fiction, maybe that’s at the heart of this contradiction,
religion and its royal refrain,
in a coalition with the banks and their governments domain, circulated a calculated faith of measured mystery,
And the banks took a slash, and money made a splash on the stage of history,
a golden shower mouth agog steaming fog of class war,
and money’s friend the judiciary, amended, nay, repealed the christian law,
on crucifixion, though, the industrial revolution according to science fiction,
was an alien mass conscription,
evidence suggests it was more like a genocidal crucifixion,
though we we’re like an alien race,
with the new machine face,
that did not know our place,
we were treated worse than cattle,
worked to the bone until the, oh so premature death rattle,
men, women, children together in toil,
worked till the blood began to boil, and serum builds up in the perineum sack, just like the Christian saviour’s heart attack,
and a transubstantiation, of almost an entire population;
and money rose on the 3rd day,
and we were free, to work for money, and to pray pay, pray pay, pray, pay, pray, pay, pray, pay, pray …
When money makes money it doesn’t give a toss with coincidence
Money couldn’t have got off the ground though, with us still working for free,
serfdom had to be abolished along with slavery,
Cause, who’d have bought what we had made,
if we hadn’t been paid,
for the pleasure, of turning this earth into money’s treasure,
But now, those wooden racks and nails now exported to warmer climbs,
I am waiting for the United Nations to define Class War Crimes?
They call them accidents but they’re more like repeated episodes of money’s old times,
Money begs questions with see saw sighs, Of empty cradle rocking eyes, Beseeching answers from silent air, carbonised good byes,
Bargains to take the breath away!
So, now what we earn, is of little concern, its buy the by,
cause there is to borrow and to borrow and to borrow… and all our yesterdays could have lit us to another age,
if the credit card and the mortgage had been the rage, before 1883,
there would have been no need to abolish slavery,
it could have been expanded on the grounds of discrimination,
to include the 99 percent of the nation,
It’s the siren on the rocks you see, money,
When money makes money it doesn’t give a toss with coincidence,
it came as a shock to me, money
that it put the mock in de-moc-racy, money
but, now I understand what they mean by liquidity,
taking the piss, money
the theory and the practice, money
speculation and speculator, money
the genuine minted ballot paper, money
whose voting hand, we try with frustration,
try to hold and shake with such adulation,
creating slap sick scenes of capitulation,
and frowns of futility, with shrugs of incredulity,
because its only by chance that you can hold and shake that which has no visibility,
yet has a grip like drying cement,
when hand in glove with government,
Money begs questions in a homeless hand,
that when closed, can feel the speculated interest rate shifting sand,
that buried the careful long life security planned,
and now refuses to even try to hold the invisible hand,
It has its own speculations canned,
When money makes money, we are awash with canned incidence,
Religion and it’s royal refrain,
Now eclipsed by the banks and their governments domain,
no trumpets heralded in this money reign,
but a busy imperial concrete abstraction of limitless gain,
concrete abstraction?, concrete abstraction?, the abstraction made concrete?
What a feet, of clay, on a sacred golden statue say?
is that some kind of sophisticated distraction,
That provokes no reaction, because the abstract made concrete, the concrete made abstract is just a fact of life, of living,
So all we create and all we make is beyond the giving, beyond the receiving,
As long as we keep on believing
in this abstract construct
in which 99 percent of us are fucked,
hooked, on this hook of gobbledygook, which we have mistook,
for worth, worth? the most flexible soft ware on earth?
money is worth, in a money state,
Its as if the hands of fate have been de-skilled,
a self fulfilling prophecy being perpetually being fulfilled,
worth is money and money is worth,
its like all the gods we’ve ever imagined have come down to earth,
and now we really are barb mired in chance,
hooked, hard wired to dance,
to the money numbering siren song,
are we hard wired to dance to money’s siren song while we suck-a-long-a-lullaby through last straws,
that give us such … ‘I’m not putting up with this any more. I am gonna put a brick through a banks window …’ ‘Pause’,
‘I am going to hack into the computer systems of banks and redistribute those numbers …’, ‘Pause’,
‘I am going to get together with my friends and work mates and organise and were gonna occupy money..what?.’ ‘Pause’ .
government by possession of the people’s fear for their possessions, in spiraling repossession, of reoccurring recessions,
‘Father?’ ‘Yes’, ‘What did you do during the Great Recession?’ ‘Oh, I did very well, yes I did very well’
‘Dad, Dad, wake up, Dad!’
Recessions; there are no such things as recessions, there are just callous calculated concessions
made by governments to those who would take and make possessions
of us and ours, the foundations of all those shy scraping towers,
recessions? Huh! money doesn’t want to learn lessons, money doesn’t need to learn lessons,
Money is … more … or … less … money! more or less
The more money there is, the more every thing is worth,
but, the more money there is, the less money is, cause, the less the numbers are worth,
but, the more everything is worth,
The less money there is, now brace yourselves for this, the less money there is, the less every thing is worth,
but, the less money there is, the more money is, cause the more the numbers are worth,
if is it of this earth?
Demand and Supply? Is that a lie, a trick of money’s light and illusion,
a dubious conclusion, based on the notion that money’s circulation is our motion, for the sake of some alien spaceship’s accumulation,
‘Have you noticed the designs of skyscrapers are becoming more aerodynamic?’ !
Supply and demand is that some kind of extraterrestrial slight of hand?
The more there is of something the more it is worth, there’s more to go around,
more needs and desires can be explored and found,
the less there is of something, well, the more it is worth more?,
Is that a perspective from this earth?
then the less we are .. worth,
Money is just numbers, more or less, more money, more numbers,
less money, less numbers … less numbers?,
money less numbers!? Money numberless!! …
Money numberless would be almighty mess of worth, a broken spell on earth,
Everything would be worth less, price less, worth less, price less, worth less,
You say worth less I say priceless …worthless, priceless, priceless, worthless, worthless, priceless,
You say worthless, I say priceless,
Lets call the whole thing, the whole thing the whole thing,
the whole thing the whole thing?,
the whole thing the whole thing!
Oh! GDP, as simple as ABC, as easy as 123, ABC, GDP, doh rah me,
GDP, Gross Domestic Product, a measurement of out put in a particular place;
the in put? …ah … I can’t … quite put a name to that….
You?, you, you, you? You?, the subversive ‘we’,
the hidden collectivity,
the ‘we’ that dare not speak it’s name,
in this divisive, hidden money game,
as I said, it came as a shock-to-me, money
That it put the mock in de-moc-racy, money
but thinking about it, this is more like some kind of the-hoc-racy,
where money debt is now the sin,
without origin, that we’re born in,
a transition of transgression did transpire,
the shadow of the skyscraper, shaped like a spire?,
towers of power, powers for debt,
spiraling to nowhere, never to be met,
no longer the source of original sin,
this, oh so weak and wicked fleshful skin,
which now you can buy shares in,
My flesh is weak, but not as weak as my credit rating,
Mm …which makes it difficult Internet dating,
F.U.C.K, so, yesterday,
For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, becomes, For Unpaid Credit Card,
you just have to pronounce that last C, a little bit hard,
no longer clergy’s sermons are required to be ringing in our ears,
there are much more profitable insecurities and fears,
for us to realise, through Scripture of the advertise,
Money begs questions with an empty stomach blurred concentration,
of the child’s attempted separation
of the words from the page,
with a self fulfilling whispered rage,
behind the scenes of inadequacies stage,
oh, but that the words could draw more than tears, on to the page,
and that child could walk on to the stage,
and with eloquence make real that rage,
Money begs questions like it hasn’t eaten all day,
I will do my impersonation of money begging questions if I may,
Money begging questions, one of the most difficult mimes in the book,
so often mistaken for being forsaken whilst being mistook,
being mistook whilst being forsaken
should not be mistaken for being lost whilst … orally taken!?,
“oh father, why hast thou for-suck me” is a biblical loss in translation,
the clergy should have been given clear and unequivocal clarification,
but trust in banks and any church? no, no,
Neither can have a conscience to search,
they both live and breath by the same spirit,
an abstraction with out limit,
eternal credit line,
faith and numbers combine,
cloud nine financial instrument design,
and another miraculous transubstantiation,
without a shred of a shroud of fabrication,
through the credit default swap incantation,
derivative sin without origin,
spinning investing vested veil,
and now our debts like our sins are up for sale,
spend and ascend, spend and descend, spend and transcend,
Spend and offend, spend and amend, ‘does that look any smaller, bigger, smaller, bigger … spend and re-offend, spend and condescend,
spend and ascend!, spend and descend!, spend and ascend!, spend and ascend!, spend and ascend!,
Spend, spend spend spend spend spend spend spend spend spend spend spend, spend spend spend … skint!!,
skint; the past participial of to skin, money thin skin, circulation thin skin, imaginations thin skin, with limitless degrees of separation,
Is debt what we are bandaged in, bondage,
bandaged, bondage, bandaged, bondage, bandage, bondage, bandage … you say bondage I say bondage, lets call the whole thing ……. a kinky first aid hostage situation ..
what? .. a kinky first aid hostage situation?
99 percent of every nation in a a kinky first aid hostage situation?
Sorry, sorry, I think I am suffering from sham shock, sham shock?
it’s a condition you get when you’ve been lied to a lot,
it’s very common in a sham-shoc-racy, of a de-moc-racy, that’s more like a the-hoc-racy,
where money debt is now the sin against the churches of money?,
Which is Topsy turvy and, not funny,
cause if money,
the manifestation of this imaginary spirit,
Which the banks and their governments have it with out limit,
then where is the time and place
for the source of all grace, the human spirit,
that exists and thrives when what’s yours is mine,
and mine is yours, and flowers in the beauty of a common cause,
lets unhinges money’s doors,
and make those scary towers of scary powers, ours,
Lets disobey … easy to say … let us disobey,
and those pretend sins of pretend debts we don’t actually have to pay,
Let us disobey,
Lets pauper faith and beggar belief,
and make our own relief,
from this money thief,
this Money State,
that flies the self interest rate,
higher than a kite,
where the real unwritten right, to life and liberty,
is money makes you, free?, money makes you, free?
money fakes us free,
cause, if freedom is meant to be ours,
not something circulated after a ransom has been paid to those golden showered powered towers?
Then, freedom would be lived and loved in the weaving fabric of our interaction,
not the grip of some numbered expansion or contraction,
in reaction to a movement of a fraction of a percent,
cause that makes us still some a frightened animal, except this time we don’t even know we have a sent.
“You fill up up my senses, like a man in a forest”
Is it a contradiction for freedom to have a fate?, not in a Money State,
A Money State is a criminal caper,
the difference between a money state and a police state; after the scary knock on the door in a police state, they take you away, for something you might say.
After the scary knock on the door in a money state, you lose your home, your family, they take your belongings away, for something you couldn’t pay,
A Money State is a criminal caper,
and the smoke screen is the ballot paper,
Cause, this periodic ability vote
is just a variation on the sacrificial goat,
except the trick this time, is we are meant to be the gods to appease, please!
Democracy; to money, is similar to a disease,
The further freedom is pulled away, from the ability to pay,
there lurking in the shadows waits freedom’s doomsday,
if symptoms of democracy ever come any where close to “red – a world about to dawn, black”,
democracy will find itself like an unwanted puppy in a river in a sack,
When money makes money there can be such a boss with coincidence
Money made Hitler and his like, not just their fear and loathing of the disabled, unemployed, travellers, gypsies, Jews,
Money had the right to and it did choose,
Hate can’t fund an election campaign,
Money did and money will, no matter how cruel, inhuman and insane,
and do you think money’s changed? Well, it looks and tastes pretty much the same to me, and it doesn’t give an F.U.C.C, about the practice de-moc-racy,
When money makes money we can be the dross with coincidence
poetry treats money like a bad smell,
‘nothing rhymes here, there’s nothing to tell’,
money treats poetry, in a nut shell, just ripples on a wishing well,
experiments have been carried out, on this universal equivalent known as cash,
scientists are circulating it’s particles at high speed and letting them crash,
and in the core of the aftermath of this collision, there is an interesting vision,
‘anti-money is real’,
it’s qualities, something you can touch, something you can judge, and something you can feel,
Now, the banks and their governments, are more than a little concerned about these experiments,
because it turns out, under the microscope, the majority of anti-money, is made up of matter, and energy and some other stuff,
and there is enough, to cloth, to feed, to house and to educate every man women and child on this earth,
enough as enough,
not some comparative equivalent worth,
Now I know anti-money sounds funny, but, to us unscientific folk
Gravity was just a joke,
until we learned how to fly!,
When money makes money we are awash with coincidence,
Maybe this game of equivalence is going to have to be redefined,
because it turns out the earth does mind,
the equivalent becoming the real,
cause then the earth is just the notional part of any deal.
A flood damaged bargain basement fire sale steal,
And the real is? … and the deal is?
Our equivalent fueled actions, are not even fractions, of a percentage, of numbers on a screen,
over and over for the sake of extraction, of more to the power of more.
What is money for … Who is money for?
‘Hold on, hold on …’
I hear you say ‘…what’s so ambivalent about the universal equivalent? Surely it is just a means of exchange, its nothing to estrange, us, just … a way to rearrange, us.’
and the history, of this rearrangement through this convention,
to numerous to mention,
has given it more than a bad name,
But what can you expect, without conscience, without honour without shame?
And still there is the poor to try, and to blame.
There’s a crisis in the brand, money,
off shore and on land, honey,
So; to the re-branding, of this universal equivalent of not such long standing,
There’d be an opening ceremony of course, that goes with out saying
the televised depiction of the history of our paying,
Paying for everything that’s always already been ours,
… is that the sound of more showers?
filling this lullabying whirl pool of a wishing well, with lullaby, borrow, borrow, sell, lull and buy, borrow, borrow, sell,
There is a dictatorship of accumulation; to be overcome?, with an ideology that the parts do equal the sum,
Maybe this, their ‘money’ is the last dark art, of creating the illusion of keeping us together, while keeping us apart,
‘Hold on hold on’, I hear you say,
‘… surely we are all under money’s spell,
in this circulating lullaby of a wishing well, together, day dream after day,’
Mm, but the sum of us is more lulled than lulling, more spun against than spinning,
Banks and their governments are like a church creating sin, for their sinning,
99 percent to be almost precise,
at the mercy of this loaded money dice,
with a price,
on our ‘heads or tails?
counterfeit spliced behind money’s veils,
has money made us the forgery,
humanity? a case of mistaken, misshapen identity,?
When money makes money, we are the loss with coincidence,
and our absence is yours and your absence is ours,
lets dismantle these hostage taking dictating towers of golden showering powers,
Money, is just numbers?
for our waking slumbers, to repeat like sheep to help us sleepwork,
hush those numbers,
and what kind of quiet would there be?
and in that quiet what would it mean to be free,?
to be heard,?
would that be the real beginning of the word?; ‘words …’
words, and the words would be, ours,
and our words would be the only bonds,
stories of gods or faith, which came first?,
the water or the thirst?,
well we are sort of 90 percent water,
so our thirst is water and our water is thirst,
and we are all, all human, so …
we, the 99 percent
can overcome this money as the innocent,?
And quench each others thirst,.
And these money bonds burst!
These money wands, break
for our children and our children’s children’s sake,
can we let money decide for itself what it is or isn’t worth, then something that has no inherent worth
could cost the earth,
Have the banks and their governments got our sanity,
under lock and key,
and this forgery,
passing itself off as humanity?
Lets unhinge money’s doors, the time has passed to pause,
to sit behind locked doors sucking through last straws,
Let us organise, rise up and break and recreate money’s laws,