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The Detroit Squatter

4/4/2025

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Picture
My name is Freddy Fiver and I live all alone
kicked back, chilled out, hurried as a stone.
You’ll find me up north, in the city of Detroit
living by my wits in a squat quite adroit.

My house it was empty for many a year
except for the rats who moved in without fear
the roof it has holes, that lets in the cold rain
but I tacked up a tarp and try not to complain.

Hurrah for Detroit city, land of the freest of free
it’s a gem in America for a squatter like me.
Don’t let out a tear, there is really no need
I’ve lived here for years without title or deed.

My jacket is all ragged and my language is foul
my life rock hardened, in the School of Knock POW!
My stuff is all scattered across the whole fucking floor
and I covered the hole with a broken down door.

What dishes I have are encrusted with grime
with the water turned off I just skip washing time
but I have cans of sardines and old cans of spam
and when I run out of them I have potted ham.

Hurrah for Detroit city land of the last hurrah
the factories moved out, folks got lost in the sprawl
when you’ve got nothing to do and nowhere to turn
come up to the city where it is a pleasure to burn.

How happy I am when I crawl into my patchwork sack
and the voices start spinning cuz my heads outta whack
and the big cockroaches who are devoid of all shame
crawl up to my fire bucket to get close to the flame.

The tiny little bed bugs have covered me with pores
so when I scratch and I itch pus out of me pours.
A large spider in the corner stares and spins its crazy web
but its not a bad life for poor me, not at all for a pleb.

So hurrah for Detroit city when the polar vortex descends
may the good times return, we can always pretend.
How happy I am in this suburb deserted
for the freaks on the streets with who I have flirted.
There is no job, no money, no police I do swear.
I make friends with coyotes, await the return of the bear.

Here I am happy and here I must stay
ain’t nothing else for me, so I won’t go away.

So come up to Detroit where there’s a home for you all
it’s a safe place to be amid the Empire’s fall.
No need to go elsewhere when you can squat here for free
and make a life in the rubble of Detroit city.

Please don’t let troubles brew in your mind
you can come do your thing and let it unwind
just stick to your squat and guard it ‘gainst scrappers
hang out on the block with the MC’s and rappers.

It will be a city of music to Detroit’s dying day
so come rave in the streets til your toothless and gray.
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    Justin Patrick Moore

    Author of The Radio Phonics Laboratory: Telecommunications, Speech Synthesis, and the Birth of Electronic Music.

    His fiction and essays have appeared in New Maps, Into the Ruins, Abraxas, and variety of other venues.

    He is currently writing on music for Igloo Magazine and on entertainment and media in the time of deindustrialization for New Maps .

    His radio work was first broadcast in 1999 on Anti-Watt, a pirate station at Antioch College. Between 2001 and 2014 he was one of the rotating hosts for the experimental music show Art Damage, and later for
    the eclectic On the Way to the Peak of Normal, both on WAIF, Cincinnati. In 2015 he became a ham radio operator (KE8COY) and started making friends in the shortwave listening community leading him to contribute regular segments for the high frequency programs Free Radio Skybird and Imaginary Stations.

    Justin lives in his hometown of  Cincinnati, Ohio with his wife Audrey.

    The  writings presented here will always be free, but you can support my work by passing the essays on to others, and sharing the links to other sites and telling your friends.   I have also set up a Buy Me A Coffee page, which you can find here.
    ☕️☕️☕️ 
    ​
    Thank you to everyone who helps support the art life by keeping me caffeinated and wired. 

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