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poetry Waterblasting

Amid “the caked-on lies” of our political leaders and corporate aggressors, New Zealand poet John Sweden offers no remedies, only an imagined hope.

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By John Sweden

Tomorrow we waterblast!
Sloughing off the caked-on lies
calcified layers of betrayals
twisted deceptions, empty promises
etching stubborn stains, accumulated filth
of corporate shittin' on the little guy.
Tomorrow we waterblast!
Foul scum of cunning innuendos
threadbare survival dramas and
warring hominids in the highest
temples of the land.

We'll waterblast your war god
clean of toxic self-infestation,
illusions of importance.
He will stand bare
His hair will point straight up exposing
the grasping power-addicted fool beneath.
The one who makes mouth noises
with twisted intuition, mouth wide open.
Open as the yawning grave that will
strip it from him like water off a
duck's back.
Tomorrow we waterblast!

Born 1943, John Sweden lives in Manukau City, New Zealand, a place of widely populated ethnicities, and is fascinated by human pattern recognition, the rise and fall of hominid alpha dominators and development without growth.