HEROES
we asked for Spartacus
we got Julius Caesar
we enquired
about the availability
of the Buddha
and you gave us Genghis Khan
history always
switches on us
tells its
own punchline
holds us up
to bad joke scrutiny
makes sure
we miss the point
demolishes
every hero
fighting
for humanity
tells us
who to
follow, obey,
even love
in a voice
you make our own
INCH
slowly
inch by inch
ripple
by ripple
you and me imagining
we are edging
closer to Heaven
closer to the truth
(whatever
that might be)
about the Universe
about ourselves
in this post-everything
world we currently inhabit
post-modern, post-structural,
post-punk, post-capitalist,
psychedelic,
funkadelic
where
you and me
doing the best that we can
at every turn failing
focused on
completing
this ancient ritual (at
least its
bare essentials
basic equation)
DESTINED TO END
Ah, poetry (let’s
out a breath
hears
syllables
expire)
hard to love it
impossible
to destroy it
Eliot, Richards,
Yvor Winters
all those years wasted
learning about it
from first
stumbling days on
the Rondebosch campus
then in red drag
robe
about to be
your Dr G
which does the job
for would be rapper
of academic professional
(professional
perhaps not
in the
dolling up to
take on the streets
revolutionary
of pleasure sense)
but
incoming! a fat
opening line
fully
armour-piercing
iconic Krupp
88mm
flouting itself as it
whistles upon me
fade to
black. fade to
white
lap dissolve and then
match cut as it
demands
all my time
wouldn’t you
know it, have guessed it
something this
agonistic
simply certain
to happen
popping
onto the page
exactly where we are, here
of places
oddest location where
we swore
never again, would never
see
let alone entertain
each other again
so
adamant this
would be so
and yet
look what just happened
both
of us cast headlong
shades of the Lady
of Christ’s
angel
of free speech, secret cosmic rebel
off to the races
newly redefined spaces
no way of knowing
where this poem, this
thing poetry
ever began
where (and how) in Hell, on Earth,
it is destined to end
QUESTION TIME
great question
(such that it
should be
bolded, italicised,
written
in capitals)
let me
do it justice
let me
work on it
sit for a week
a month
a lifetime
ten centuries
hopefully coming up
with an answer
summoned
from below
dredged
from above
(the kind
of deep break-through
that might well promise
to change everything)
ideally
by which time
(so many aeons elapsed)
whatever Dawn’s
upon me
greatis by no means
completely redundant
the world
our world (if
it still be)
unrecognisable
gloriously, horribly,
indescribably altered
now
to proceed
what
was it again
that question
great question?
POEM AS PREDATOR
poem as predator
poem as prey
evolution in the
lines as they
spark, splash
their way
past you
guppies, celopods, great
whites
barracuda
give praise
say your prayers
make a vow
take a bow
publish a statement
pen a declaration
never
in the light of
whatever truth takes your fancy
never to let
them take you
make you
fudge; or fold
BY DESIGN
everything
twitches, shudders,
revolves,
devolves
evolves
shades into
melds
dissolves
splits, pulls tricks,
goes longitudinal, lateral.
becomes hybrid
finds
a solution
runs parallel
chases, takes tracking shot,
edits, splices.,
dices
chases, runs
away from
enters into, escapes
out of
connives, convinced,
consumes
is consumed by
darkens,
enlightens
extends
goes out on a limb
shifts and returns back to
resolves then rescinds
enhances, romances,
shadows, throws
shade upon
thinks better worlds, best
world
worst life we
can imagine
worst reality, surreal actuality,
horror show entirely
ones we
are born into
die in
die from
are enshrined in
remain remembered
unless
resurrected, reincarnated,
renewed, reinvented
simply born again
all things
designed and created unless
worked it
all out themselves
(what works
best
for them)
generating their very being
out of something
rather than
nothing
why is there something
rather than nothing?
why
is there anything
when
nothing is central, primal,
presupposes
logically, mathematically
essential
look at yourself
plain as day you
just appeared out of nowhere
nothing
so
much the deeper
beyond
all conjecture
wiser
than
we could ever fathom
from the very beginning
before
the beginning by
inescapable design
such a grip on the plan
SALVATION
maybe I might
have forgotten myself
at that moment
of chaos and crisis
have forgotten to tell you
you have
become goddess
the most
beautiful thing
in the Universe
divine object of
the adulation of the stars
beloved dream of
all of us
self included
who
have known you
loved you
longed for you, wanted you
worshipped you
from this intimate near
or
as with me
so deeply
from afar
that chaos, that crisis
stuff of supernova
of exploding galaxies
put
to one side
alien to
the quiet order and
system
and
death by
intensity
of
which I
for the peace that is
light and
sort of
respite
guess I should write
being perhaps
some salvation
QUITE
it doesn’t matter
if you can’t
do your taxes
fly a plane
or even drive a car
make love to
a man
to a man
or lover non-
gender specific
none of
these things
matter
at all
left-brained, right-brained
schizophrenic, dyslexic
pro-
universal peace
or hungering for
thermonuclear war
everything will be fine
as long as you
never
attempt poetry
as is
well known, and
absolutely historically proven,
starting
to write poetry
is the universal mistake
found throughout the galaxy
incontestably quite
the biggest disaster of all
NOT WHAT IS PERCEIVED
we played chess
on acid
which gave the whole game
a kind of
snakes
and ladders effect
then went
to write our
entrance exams
hard to do
algebra
when all you can hear
is the sound of a mellatron
and bagpipes
in your head
but nevertheless prevailed
did my level
best
spirit level best
left brain right brain
quantum
entanglement at
the heart
of everything
every
single breath
both in terms of the
horizontal and
the vertical dimensions
every shape
and size, every configuration
my eyes
see
my fingers touch
and you in your beauty
naked before me
at the core of love
meaning (and future) of our
stunning species
having recently discovered
all that is out there
if anything is
out there
is not what is perceived
HAVING HANNIBAL FOR BREAKFAST
tell me Dr Lecter
how many census takers
have you yourself tested
and is
their bureaucratic impudence
any guide to flavour
this I ask
as one of your greatest
admirers
who
would have felt
so blessed
to have just a smidgen,
an ounce
of your visceral
eloquence
not to speak of
your tactical acumen
or ease with
which you
freely segue
from devious thought
to diabolical strategy
but
let that all rest
we are both here
for breakfast, to enjoy
ourselves
try
this Jamaican cuisine
you were so thoughtful
to bring
jerk Dr Chilton
lots of prize juicy
essential and
inessential
parts
in a doggy bag
poems 2 die for