Yell at the Moon is a poem in response to one of my first excursions to Canterbury in Kent.
The place was so adorned with notices prohibiting actions such as walking or sitting on grass, notices about penalties for doing normal things in public buildings and the forest of rules and regulations governing parking.
The signs told the public what must not be done and how much the fine would be but none of them gave any friendly messages about what could be done.
Rules, it seemed, were against not for an action.
Later on a trip to a bird sanctuary I was amazed to see a post with signs warning me of hazards present in the area and saw no evidence of any of them. Being from New Zealand where signs tend to inform and not stand out like the proverbial canine appendages I was alarmed thinking the place was falling apart.
I realised it was authority doing a "job's worth" and covering its butt so if anything did happen they could say "We Told You!"
I stick out my tongue in their general direction.
Yell at the Moon!
Yell at the moon, you fool, or stay
Shuffling your feet, and remember,
Remember Paris in ’68.gay Paris,
Yeah that shit-kicking, student year
When the whole town went wild,
Stormed along cannon friendly avenues,
Told parlement in no uncertain way
What they wanted. Yeah man, real wild,
Car burning, riotous satisfying mayhem.
If you mean it for real you understand
What the tagger is trying to tell you
Or what the songster behind the black
Mike is wailing about. The endless rules
Hanging on walls, doors, pillars, posts,
Posted on posters, painted on bright wood,
And that smirking git behind the bar
Who turns you away because his job
Is not worth the bother. Rudeness pays.
I watch you reading the signs and
There you go, spitting on the ground
Rubbing it in with your foot, vandal,
Night killing vandal as dark as a Goth,
As sharp as a claw, nasty as a dog turd.
Hey man, gimme the real world!
None of that official law spouting graffiti,
I wanna see the name behind the law,
That says I can’t smoke in the train.
I reckon I could be in real trouble
If I piss against the wall, so who tells me
To go and do that behind a tree?
Hell man, am I supposed beg my way
Through this labyrinth of rules
You make to protect yourselves,
Keep your world safe from intruders.
To hell with your tight little world
I got some nasties to offer you.
Don’t stand at your window mister
Watching me race down your way
Tearing up the sidewalks to throw
The bricks at your fat policemen,
Or when I am burning your streets,
Creating my own Kristal Nacht,
A drunken lawmaker stripping
Bullshit from the walls, scary man
‘Cos I really mean what I say.
So come on then sunshine, tell me,
Would you like to try out a riot
And join me and my radical friends?
Yell at the moon and have a try at
Breaking down your inhibitions, slick
With the blood of your neighbour,
Draw the knife across the throats
Of your nearest and dearest? No Guts?
And does blood make you feel sick?
Or will you up and cheer the leader,
Howl at the bloody moon, get that
Old sexy heat in your gonads, beat
Your hands in time to a rhythm that
Beats in time to hearts of strong men.
Or will you whine to the law makers
And ask them nicely to beat the shit
Outta the bastards who did this to you?
Do you believe in real justice, friend?
Secretly you want to yell at the moon
And take hirsute revenge on all those
Little shits, the ones who make the rules,
The ones who fix the labels, spoil the fun,
Take away with a word your freedom.
Or do you desperately want to have
That forbidden spine tingling feeling
Of doing it right, of doing it free,
A howling wolf yelling at the moon.
Yell at the moon break the mould,
Break everything you see, burn, burn, burn,
Until the law makers are forced to agree
That protest means rioting in the streets.
Yell at the moon, piss on the sidewalk,
Break conventions, drag the bastards
From their beds and rape their minds,
Or rape their daughters, rape them,
Rape anything that that makes a move.
Offer them unabated terror, slice organs
With crinkled knives, throats with words
Choking the life from ideas that belong
In the past. Sure, yell at the moon,
Stand in the dark staring lupus gaped
Calling Cynthia by her hunter’s name.
Race the streets, scream a terror wail
That chills the blood but give no quarter
Or give up and give the city back.
When people see you running wild
You’re crazy man but you don’t
Have to let it show. The world turns
Too fast for you to mean anything
Worth listening to, unless, brightly,
You break the mould and let the light
Stream into your world. Open up child,
Watch the tiger spit his prey to death
And meet death himself, unknowing.
Me, when I come down to Earth,
Touch the cold grass with naked feet
And gaze, trying to understand why
Gallileo had such a rough time
With the God wallopers. And today
Silly city signage fills the open spaces
I’m just pissed off with the little
Shits who make the stupid rules
And yet cannot keep a latrine clean.
Try walking in the park buster
And not see the signs layered
Like leaves and guarded, jealous
Of destruction, by order of this,
And by order of that and no do
This and no do that, no, no, no!
And so, the end is nigh mate,
Pick up thy dog shit and walk,
Keep left in four languages.
Rotten little shits bust their balls
To keep your plebian arse off the grass,
Never admitting that the mower cuts
The poor sods down like the young men
In my grandfather’s time, uniform death,
Where everybody got a share of the dirt.
The Flanders flowers as red as a red
Revolution, and look out for your back
Because man, its your turn next!
In the City of signs the great stick wielding,
Finger wagging comptroller of regulations,
Thumps his law abiding stamp and tells me
To mind the step, but, heck, this uncaring
Addict for the literal cares not, labels
On walls not written by the underground
Mean nothing. Nothing to nothing I say
And glue your labels to the sticking place
So lawmakers can leave their mark.
Sing a song of hate and let your breath
Carry the meaning beyond the knifepoint.
Break down barricades, rampage in the city,
Tear down the signs! Look left, Look right
Look weird, scream like a banshee,
Yell hysterically at the moon,
For Christ’s sake yell at the moon!
For Christ’s sake yell at the moon!
For Christ’s sake yell at the moon!