We invented a country to escape our own,
to show how serious we were
about being different and changing the world.
Our will to survive in the present meant
we squatted the future and lived in the past
as music fuelled us to action.
We sang songs in graffiti, rapped in the street,
and all worked together for change.
Emptiness could be filled, minds transformed
through dreams and desire, communal dance,
by ignoring the real, whatever that meant.
Who had the right to say we were poor?
Or dirty, unwanted or other? The world
was ours and then it slipped away
as money caught up and developers
moved in and took violent possession.
We cut our hair and swore at power,
co-opted rebellion and technology,
became invisible until needed
spoke out only when it was required:
an alternative nation now underground,
waiting for rebirth. Rise up people,
we’ve got to be willing to lose it,
there is not long left to make it happen.
Society tried to put out the fire but failed.
Join hands as the dark descends
and remember what love felt like
before we smiled by numbers.
Destiny is an undying breed of anarchy
entwined deep in the beautiful now.
© Rupert M Loydell