WE
what we hear from you
We are
all human beings
one species
you are human beings
like me
what we want to hear from you
We are
all human beings
one species
I am
a human being
like you
please tell us
you can tell the difference
otherwise
this word “we”
makes no sense at all
WORD (ABOUT
MINDING MY WORDS)
got reported
Gestapoed
someone snitched
on me to
the Institute of Poetry
which
in its wisdom
commissioned a
whole delegation
sent
them trooping
in through my door
here to
“have a word” came
the proclamation
riot act read
right
of intervention
silly me
to have expected a style-fest
as for apparel,
sequins and feathers, breast-.
plates and
leather
and, Oh My God, hats:
stetsons and Panamas, hombergs,
berets and trilbies
(the odd
Mr Plod helmet kind
of thrown in
for
good measure)
something akin to
the madcap extremes of a
Gaultier or Mugler
not this gravel gray, matt
black sundae of
mundane business
managers
well-suited to shut down,
perfect for
repression
apt for no-nonsense
straight talk laying
down the law
demandibg
I cease
and desist promptly
arrow-straight and professional
telling me
without slightest latitude
opening
for latitude, ambiguity,
space to maneuver
to
mind my
words
if I do know what is good for me,
care about the future of poetry
YOUR ROOM
I spent
a night in your room
choosing the couch
over your bed,
my most regretted decision
(our bodies not
in apposition
minds in the morning
finding opposition)
and me
and what I am and
what you might
have transformed me to
be
leaving no trace
of
me or
my passion
to feel its way into
that carpet, those walls,
adding to
its meaning, its
flavour
with just a trace
of my identity
with those others
past,
current lovers
to whom
this just a room, you just
a woman, most
magical woman
to me
a comedy, a tragedy,
my Midsummer Night’s Dream.
SAW-SCALED
saw you sort of
in a trance state
somewhere
between in
a dream
and being awake
you moved like a tiny
bolt of jagged lightning
in slow motion
no scales grating together
to put
the chills into me
but head still
loaded with
blood-battering venom
enough in one bite to
kill a couple of humans
terrible style
bad
as that was
worse, it were
as if
you stop, smiled, that
sublime viper smile,
introduced yourself
to that part
of you
in me
snake, killer, spirit
animal
that was
already there
those scales shrieking danger
to all who
might listen
should really listen
if they knew what’s good for them
.
WHAT I TOLD THE
SUPERVISOR WHO
ADVISED ME MY
EDITING WAS
SUBSTANDARD
yes, ruefully,
grudgingly
I do admit it
this time
I messed up
maybe i’m
not cut out for it
perhaps
I should
stick to
what I am
good at, or
then again
try something
different
take poetry.
there we have something.
comes naturally
to me
possibly one
of the best
in the country
sort of
like my
first language
for I seem
to suck
at editing, though
maybe not as
shit at it
as you are
thinking
not as
shit as it
as you are
at
teaching
being a bitch
and a teacher
seems
a bit of a
mismatch
don’t
seem a
good
fit
kind of, if you
can forgive
me for saying so,
need
some humanity
to get
through to
people
no, run
with what you
are good at
interior decorating,
playing power games,
arrogance,
cooking
(though there the
worry being
you may well poison
bodies
as much as you
poison minds)
RESEARCH METHOD
if I see another research onion
eye-balling me
from the page
I think I might puke
possibly in many coloured layers
why not
a research orange?
or, better even, a
research banana
best of all
research pineapple
you eat
your way up through
the fruit until
you reach the spiny leaves
hard, tough,
that’s why you need
coding software
or a Likert Scale
choose one for good
two for bad and
three
(obviously) for
ugly
now we have finished
this poem
please be assured your
responses
will be
kept confidential
protect you from punchlines
to this and
other jokes
suddenly hitting you
with terrible laughter, mild
amusement
things outside
your paradigm
that mess with
your categories
and other bumps in the night
got
your onion
be
sure to hold it tight!
BELONGINGS
Went through
your belongings
before the wake
found at the
bottom of an old
locked drawer
I had
to force open
a musty barely
legible document
you penned
in your
youth
dated it may
have been but
it spoke
with passion, felt
not
without
relevance
said
“after the R”
(R for
that other word,
opposite of
restoration
the
word that now
no longer
may
speak it’s name)
“we should gather
the teachers
together
all the teachers
those that teach
and those
that don’t
the former to
dream the new foundation
the latter
the eternal
shirkers
to
dig
dig until they
can dig
no more
until
they strike gold”.
FRAGRANCE
arrogance
your fragrance
of choice
(euphemism alert)
the android that frisked you,
sidetracked you
these
last few hours
having Turing tested you
to your briny limits
blew you a fake
farewell kiss
snort that one
with some white powder
will make you
feel better
get you in the mood
for nursery rhymes
shame you are become
so iconic
last home for humanity
out the window
I see it now clear as the
pain, existential doubt
in any
Jackson Pollock
this is the best that the fruit
of Eve’s tree
could give, stoop
crawl
roll over backwards
to provide
arrogance is
your fragrance
it burns
like hot white phosphorus
lingers
like airstrike napalm
GO OUT SINGING
UNDER THE MOONLIGHT
on your last legs
you old stage prancer
living (still) legend
wish I were
there for your
rock Götterdämmerung final
owing you so much
could have
owed you so much more
you loveable lithe lion
of a man
king of rebels (rebel
beast)
yes could have
been deeper in your debt
if I had
heeded your call
had the courage
to answer it
internalize the message
learn
to love, live with
my demons, be cool
under shadow
with that last song
it is
the end of an epoch
not just an era
end of life
as we know it, under
this configuration
constellation
of stars
history will
forget, as it is won’t
your
name Michael Phillip
but not
that riff, that rhythm
that
supreme satisfaction
one
two
and so
last song under moonlight
then
the cosmos give you shelter
go wherever you
now go to
bearing the knowledge,
fully aware
that you are
not there alone
have a piece of my soul
GOING WITH THIS
up
down
vertical lateral
throw me a lateral, tell
me where
we
are going
with this
what brain flashes
will consolidate
translate into
paper, paper
with markings
(English
not Martian
as in
some bizarre
alien postcard)
how it will all
all evolve
grow, take shape
find its genre, its species,
whole
poet biology
spawn of some sort
seed set there
but
sewn
up
every stitched
ripe for receipt
poems 2 die for