The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

another riot

you shove viagra into you flaccid mouth
to fuck with divine righteousness
the whole of the earth,
blood is always justified
for the fucking flag your god wears.
your blessed bullets a sacrament
in a puppets gun to bless the
gasoline fueled hatred.
flames of outrage fuel
the lust gleaming in your eyes
now you can take even more
and bury the truth
in gutters slick with death