This noise out-shouting
                        the signal

grotesque and unspeakable
the blunderbuss of all cøcks
           at its veiniest throb
        clubbing voices to death
        with tangerine pomp

        thrusting turgidly down
     liberty's throttled gullet on a bed
        of rusty newspapers and
       celebrity dishrags

leaves little time for hope,

needs many hands to bring it
to flaccid silence
          where it belongs.

            Many fists to soften
        oppressive skulls for the world to see
                and find the inspiration
                                                to act.