GENESIS
you spoke Genesis
but I smelled diesel
juicy viscous diesel
life enriching, perfectly
putrified,
without which we could
not
pull push our
less than stellar bodies
into a
drive through
future
drive our world
where it may (it
does
spring to mind)
or may not
be in interest, our very
best interest
given all
our interests
to take to the road, shift
gear
and go
IN THE SHADOWS
searching
the shadows
for every as yet unresolved
bit of humanity
because I did not like
what appeared in the light
not under neon
in the spotlight, caught
by a searchlight
in all these instances
the brighter the source
the worse
by far
and
there in silhouette
found myself battling
to enter or
exit via
gaps in the perimeter wire
shadow making a move on me
to help here, or retard
BARELY A WHISPER
the point at which
Policy
becomes
atrocity
first stage in
our ever-evolving
human hypocrisy
barely a whisper
from usual suspects, ink-
soaked saints
as we
hit stage the second
find atrocity
at prayer
hear its pleas for
the salvation of
total indemnity
often with barely
a whimper of regret at all
NOTHING LIKE
nothing like
poetry
to mess
with
your
sense
of identity
flood
your memory
rewrite
all that stuff
you thought you
knew about
yourself
never
called
into question
now reshaped, reconstituted, in
the very flow of
the words
themselves
and thus
as collateral
damage
nothing
as might have been said before
somehow, somewhere
nothing
quite like
what we may
well find ourselves facing
called to
account for
in such
a space,
in this place right here
ON THE PAGE
looking back in time
at this poem
(coming at
you at the speed of light)
could have hit you
aeons, days, five
minutes ago
causing me to wonder
how
(by virtue of what
dark arts) you can
tell yourself
you profess to see me
so much history (your history)
necessary to compute
need to
shuffle through
before you
have any notion of
how to
answer
when I ask what I am
how you
found me
on the page
ON THE PAGE
looking back in time
at this poem
(coming at
you at the speed of light)
could have hit you
aeons, days, five
minutes ago
causing me to wonder
how
(by virtue of what
dark arts) you can
tell yourself
you profess to see me
so much history (your history)
necessary to compute
need to
shuffle through
before you
have any notion of
how to
answer
when I ask what I am
how you
found me
on the page
EVERYTHING YOU WISHED
TO HEAR
overwrite me
fix this poem
make it
nice and
comfortable
easy
for yourself
everything
you wished to hear
SCAN
scan these stanzas
with Geiger Counter
deep-seek radar
this
at the outset
and at
regular
intervals
as proceeding
it does not take me
all that much time
to reach
critical mass
has been
happening
quite reguarly lately
all that
satirical anger
driving every
atom
to chain reaction
and then
there is the question
of half life
will take radiation levels
such as these
here, levels
totally
batshit crazy
hundreds of years to
even begin to calm down
OFF THE PAGE
I have shed many a tear
over her
far fewer
over the forests of trees
did sacrifice to
her beauty
(bringing out
the most prolific
in me)
less guilty as charged
now all is digital
impinging on
brains electrical
barely a whisper of sorrow
short-
circuiting synapses
teetering
on the brink as
under cover of
supposed elegance
here, there,
everywhere
raw emotion
leaping off the page.
NEEDLESS TO SAY
Sylvia,
she whom,
Lady
Lazarus
style,
I had resurrected from
the
dead
warned me
of the day
political retribution
would find me
the day
a poem got
me
burned
or stoned
I laughed off
her horrified concern
without a
single
reader
what outraged crowd?
what danger?
what damage?
a single solitary stalwart
sold on the truth
of the established order
or turning up
to avenge
some imagined slight
I had long
forgotten about
turning up
with twig in
one hand
pebble in
the other
(always best
to keep
one’s
options open)
but
needless to say
the stone missed
and branch
refused
to take flame
.
poems 2 die for