Poem of the week

DEMOCRACY by Harold Pinter

There’s no escape.
The big pricks are out.
They’ll fuck everything in sight.
Watch your back.

I GUESS he was thinking of Iraq or something, our rather hysterical Nobel Prize-winning author. Here's he gets more precise:

GOD BLESS AMERICA by Harold Pinter

Here they go again,
The Yanks in their armoured parade
Chanting their ballads of joy
As they gallop across the big world
Praising America's God.

The gutters are clogged with the dead
The ones who couldn't join in
The others refusing to sing
The ones who are losing their voice
The ones who've forgotten the tune.

The riders have whips which cut.
Your head rolls onto the sand
Your head is a pool in the dirt
Your head is a stain in the dust
Your eyes have gone out and your nose
Sniffs only the pong of the dead
And all the dead air is alive
With the smell of America's God.