APART
poets, dancers, playwrites,
novelists, medics, priests philosophers, physicists,
biologists, anthropologists
dead in
no man’s land
not holding hands
cream of the crop
not
holding
shaking hands
some
have no nothing
some just
no hands
hard to
write, make
sign or
signal
hands for holding, touching,
loving, grasping
apart
from
all this
greedy for life
WTF?
epic, apocalyptic,
apoplectic
the time of big poetry
has come
and gone
out the window
then papered
over that window
boarded
it up
for good measure
and my good friend
Tommy Eliot, not
entirely sure
whether
he counts as a guru
or merely a catalyst
crying his eyes out
nevertheless
but Tommy think
of ecology
the rains will come
storms to best all
we have so far seen
and then sticks and
stones all we
have, all
we might
aspire to
until magical mnemonics
and formulae
scratching on tablets and
suddenly
all is well with legend
and song
of the new wine dark sea
nothing as yet, unless
ever so implicitly
to denounce
our
recourse to
injustice
evil of greed that leads
to Manhattan Project
enhanced, exalted to
rival supernovae
somehow
there on our doorstep
jimmying the lock
(needing
our consent to
deliver the horror it bears)
aeons before
we arrive at the poetry
ready to
engage
in suicide charges
anything to stop
our complete dumbing down,
our zombification
kill all
the reruns, the voids,
the empty condensations,
go full
dena vu, great return
of sage Friedrich,
mourning the abysmal truth
that no
one now
reads
has original ideas
watches the world
slip out of orbit
without
single
what
the fuck?
GOT NOTHING ON THIS SCENE
strangelets
in my cornflakes
zombie Emily Dickinson
reciting her poem
about the snake
and her poem
about death
now you tell me
there is a black hole
at the centre
of Wonderland (all
that you deemed
absurd comedy in
fact
supreme gravity)
and Professor Cox
of my alma mater
there in Manchester
speculating on
the terror
of false vacuum
and the possibility of
absolute zero
on the surface of
licorice ice-cream
but
where are they now
who decades ago
tried
to save our everydays
dish out reassurance
that of classical and quantum
the twain should
never
meet
and other nonsense all
that stuff that is field, that
is pure
probability
simply laughing
tunneling through us
as if
we are the nothing
pure probability following
their lead
heading
in
and out of fashion
joke on us
imagining ourselves
solid as we seem
got
nothing on this scene
NO ONE TOLD US
no one told us
the seven deadlies
(in every shade
and every nuance)
would pitch up
clothed
in tailored suits
rock up
with college degrees
(though here
in truth
a bit scraping
the barrel)
but the Devil’s glitter
giving them
a bit
of the look
of lords of light
somewhat sullied and
muddied wrapped
in the hot bulbs and
strip lights
of their
demonic tinseltown
and here they
are
spouting the golden
wisdom which cannot
but
dumb us down
hit a level
never
before seen in
a species
consensus, total faith,
spreading
like a virus, a plague
a thing riddled with bacilli
of beyond Biblical proportions
no one
having told us
how beautiful they
would all seem
HARDON
got a hardon
hardon
of power
(because)
can bomb
anybody
am free
at
to bomb
everyone
can rewrite
your history, burn
your first draft
dig
down
suck
out
make a ton
of boodle
from these rich
resources
which you
have no
right
to have
who said
you could have?
so weak and meek
and painfully pathetic
how are
you going to stop me?
if I take
what I want
what
the law
says
is mine
my sacred, inviolable
legal right
enshrined in righteous
universal law
BEAUTIFUL
in the experiment
they setup for us
they reduced us
to balls of light
had us fly at
each other
like bullets
suddenly there it was
perfect metaphor
for
superposition
no
interference pattern .
quite
so beautiful
FOR YOUR INFORMATION
snake eyes
double slit experiment
tell me if
it is your inclination
to elect to
become a
particle
or go
with the flow, stay
open-ended
undecidable
the physics
here so bat-shit crazy
yet irrefutable
undeniable
and so
I find myself
not remembering myself
for how like Columbus
I sailed across, or
like Aphrodite
surfed
across
those one way ticket
dark waters
thinking of the choreography
underpinning the dance
of probabilities
can give me this blood
red
with iron
from the heart of a star
and every breath
a different life
a whole new universe
for your information
so many branching out
even as
we think, talk about them
co-conspirators, co-creators
of this
inconsequential thing (not
just) but
everything we are
snake eyes
twin slit experiment
something out there
dabbling in
uncertainty
taking our
precise measurements
entangled as we now most
assuredly are
IMMANENCE
oh the beauty of that innocence
pure cerulean of celestial sky
no alphabet
before algebra
so no sense and therefore
no fear of darkness, aberration,
abyss, shadow
the code
so clear, the space so
safe
no need to think ourselves
into the algorithms
of sanctity
and protection
and yet
how might abundance
love
define themselves
in the absence
of other,
without antithesis?
the sky so pure
in its blue
turning
tourmaline
the creatures mute
to our
failing, our
destined misstep
drowning in an endless,
forever
emergent wisdom
we can never
now unlearn
RODEO STYLE
who would have
thought it
from heirs
to the Enlightenment
to rogue state Goodfellas
war of the jungle?
no shit
end of sovereignty
congress, senate,
the administration
just
took a dump
on Thomas Hobbes
no good
just tearing up
the social
contract
need to stab it serial
killer with
an ice pick
need to go
chainsaw leatherface
to run
away with
that barbacue
fire
on Fort Sumter
after Fort Sumter
robber baron
the world Texas
rodeo style
LEGEND
if this were
a raw oyster
raw
meaning alive
how would you
plot to eat it
(that wickedly satirical
Dublin Dean
did
commend the bravery
of he who
first ate one)
suppose
it an octopus
(but not
the bright blue variety)
what tactics
of attack
strategy to render it
a culinary masterpiece
but what
if some tentacle which
shared
its misfortune
by getting
stuck in your tract?
revenge masterstroke
gourmet karma
unless by
the trinity, shoot
back from the dead
in Mary Shelley moment
St Frankenstein
of Assisi, lately native
of Haight-Ashbury
lover transcendental
of every genus of animal
under whose jurisdiction
what could be
beyond consideration
receptacle of life
before cuisine Holy Grail?
poems 2 die for