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FIVE NIGHTS OF BLEEDING

(for Leroy Harris)

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1

madness . . . madness . . .

madness tight on the heads of the rebels

the bitterness erupts like a hot-blast

broke glass

rituals of blood on the burning

served by a cruel in-fighting

five nights of horror an of bleeding

broke glass

cold blades as sharp as the eyes of hate

an the stabbings

it’s war amongst the rebels

madness . . . madness . . . war.

2

night number one was in brixton

soprano B sound system

was a beating out a rhythm with a fire

coming doun his reggae-reggae wire

it was a soun shaking doun your spinal column

a bad music tearing up your flesh

an the rebels them start a fighting

the yout them jus turn wild

it’s war amongst the rebels

madness . . . madness . . . war.

3

night number two doun at shepherd’s

right up railton road

it was a night named Friday

when everyone was high on brew

or drew a pound or two worth a kally

soun coming doun neville king’s music iron

the rhythm jus bubbling an back-firing

raging an rising, then suddenly the music cut

steel blade drinking blood in darkness

it’s war amongst the rebels

madness . . . madness . . . war.

4

night number three

over the river

right outside the rainbow

inside james brown was screaming soul

outside the rebels were freezing cold

babylonian tyrants descended

pounced on the brothers who were bold

so with a flick

of the wrist

a jab an a stab

the song of blades was sounded

the bile of oppression was vomited

an two policemen wounded

righteous righteous war.

5

night number four at a blues dance

a blues dance

two rooms packed an the pressure pushing up

hot, hot heads, ritual of blood in a blues dance

broke glass

splintering fire, axes, blades, brain-blast

rebellion rushing doun the wrong road

storm blowing doun the wrong tree

an leroy bleeds near death on the fourth night

in a blues dance

on a black rebellious night

it’s war amongst the rebels

madness . . . madness . . . war.

6

night number five at the telegraph

vengeance walked through the doors

so slow

so smooth

so tight an ripe an smash!

broke glass

a bottle finds a head

an the shell of the fire-hurt cracks

the victim feels fear

finds hands

holds knife

finds throat

o the stabbings an the bleeding an the blood

it’s war amongst the rebels

madness . . . madness . . . war.