Contents
Iggy Pop and the Geiger Counter
This Is England, or Down With the Seventies
Iggy Pop and the Geiger Counter
Silence.
He lunges into the front row,
A single beat
From the radio
Rushes at the youths
With a grating screech,
Pulses slowly to
His supine, slender body.
Leaps on the round table
And seizes an amber bottle.
Muted static swarms into the
Dull pulse – speeding up now -
The whine of the guitar
Drains limbs of all sensation –
Sears through the club as
He sinks into sleep,
He smashes the bottle
and the beat
against his arm
Races on; the static fades
And screams into the mic.
Into silence.
---
This is England, or
Down With the Seventies
He swings his guitar at the swelling crowd.
We swap cassettes with cracked covers.
The pale man grasps the bars of his cage.
A teen sprays the alley with paint.
He rubs glitter into his arms.
We toss bricks at the co-op.
The garbage man bars his window.
A man records a jackhammer on tape.
Men in suits sweat while she checks her purse.
The girl in black waves her swastika armband.
In the corner he sits and plucks his bass.
A plywood pyramid belts pulses to the crowd.
Four German men sing of a train.
His radio spews wailing strains of sax.
The worker hangs his overalls with a sigh.
A young man pours pills down his throat.
