GUY DEBORD’S GHOST

Guy Debord’s subliminal ghost flickers
Reincarnated on our backlit screens
As spectacular events multiply
In permanent anti revolution.
Whilst workers make weapons that kill workers
We wring our hands and plead out loud for peace,
Royals drip with medals, children lay wreaths.
On our smart TVs all is black and white,
Enemies set up, morning, noon and night.
Old men outside cafes sip lukewarm beer,
Grateful that those bombs are not dropping here.
City based armour clad police forces
Smash protesters running from their horses.
Non stop coverage rolls on, on, and on,
Media star newscasters sing their song,
Most people know not where do they belong,
Futures are uncertain, it all feels wrong.
Security profers a thin veneer
Of hope that it will never happen here,
Whilst we watch bombed out kitchens globally
Strewn across bodies laid out in their streets.
This normality, that we all accept
Along with our toys, still not too much yet.
Cameras keep rolling, show must go on,
World Cup is coming, it won’t be too long.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom 11th October 2022.