Author Archives: Damian Garside

FEAST

FEAST

Thank God that guy Pope
never put me in his Dunciad
or any other
South African poets there
for that matter
which is a bit
beyond belief

long since Roy Campbell
Wayzgoosed everybody
from Cape Town to
Durban to Maritzburg
Joburg and Pretoria

enough idiots with pens
and processors around now
to make
any such revival
a royal satirical feast.

HE SAYS

HE SAYS

he says
I should write a poem
about war
   against genocide
given what
is currently
going down

he has a point
but for me poetry
is about inner
landscape
     self-
exploration

the sweet words uncovering
what it means
    to have feeling

in a world
where everything that
had meaning

totally
gone

TO END ALL WARS

TO END ALL WARS

you call me
an animal
but you
are the ones
who kill
poets

shoot them
through the back
of
the head

civilized style
execution style

and amongst animals
who could be
less worthy of
life

than poets
what poet anywhere
(looking at
         you, Wilfred Owen,
Erich Maria Remarque)

did their bit
      for humanity

by winning a war
         (the war to end all wars)

LIKE IT

LIKE IT

I like it when
even
   in full flow
(the joy
of flow)
you catch exactly
how your
mind works
how it all works

have your
self-reflexive
meta moment

finish the poem
with its special twist

and the Universe
(whether it is
              real or
simulation)
smiles and
           welcomes you
to postmodernity.

CONJUNCTION

CONJUNCTION

I am writing
              a poem

and the world is fucked.

I am writing a poem
but
the world

     is fucked

I am
writing a poem

however, although,
the world
                              is
                      fucked

am writing
notwithstanding, despite,
in outright opposition to

the
   world

being fucked.

I am writing a poem,

have written a poem,

just trying to establish
the precise conjunction.

QUESTION MARK

QUESTION MARK

thank you
for not inviting me
to your
prestigious event

not up
to your level
I think I get
the message

we poetic bottom-
feeders must
take what
we can get

but is it not
“true”, by
definition that
anything appearing
on this stage

part
of this show

is horribly compromised,
by no means
capable of
doing

what words
should do?

HOMEWORLD

HOMEWORLD

a lot of tourists
came to our planet

behaved despicably
threw their weight around
(which in the case
of creatures from gas giants
could be truly immense)

worst of all, as to be expected,
were the various species
of humanoids
and worst of these
were this truly abhorrent
species
       from a planet called Earth

who gave us no choice
but to strike at their Homeworld
and eviscerate their leaders

since it is in the nature of
this species to choose as
their leaders the greediest
and most depraved
and insensible amongst them

without which
we calculated

this species had a future
might have
     some kind of chance

ANIMAL

ANIMAL

animal
you call me
an animal

so now I think I know
where this leads
think I know
where
I stand

somewhere in
that dark privileged space
it is an insult to
biology
to call a brain

thoughts of the tried
and trusted: turning me
into soap, lampshades, fertilizer

maybe
      I should just
                shapeshift

out of your way

or maybe
    shapeshift inside you

do what
     animals do

helo you redefine
your notion of horror

MAMBA METAPHOR

MAMBA METAPHOR

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

think I must be
an animal there just
to be stamped on
crushed, einsatzed and
gas chambered

and it is there in the script
in your vision of, and
for reality

         what you see
                      must become,
must be
even if you have to
slaughter all the children
animal children
of the rest of humanity
                     animal humanity

but my pen
       is black inked and
silver grey on the outside

its nib
     poised like a fang

ergo
    this poem, writhing and
striking
         exacting an absolute
price
from being
forced into this corner,
put in this posture
    
is a black mamba
it is my
      totem for the day
       my creature of choice

******

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

throwing linguistic
Phosphorous  in
your general direction

sticking you
     with enough drops of
neurotoxin
to kill half
         your army

I see
     you still have issues, your
anger rising

                      anger born of fear
fear clinging to
survival

that evolution is about, all about
about only
              the crushing of the weak
the triumph of the strong

so
    whilst you still can
whilst the venom is with
horrible curiosity
feeding
                    into your system
pressing
        every wrong button

throwing every wrong switch
disabling every
            vital lever

finding out
            what makes you tick
then smashing the clock

whilst we wait just a few minutes
for the demonic chemistry to work
      behind this deconstructive
procedure

just
     pass the torch on
you
     will no longer
carry

slide into prayer and
plea for vengeance from
   
                 your slick
wooden god

*****

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

       sometimes they
are wild, unpredictable

                       can cross
into reality

this in
          their nature to
follow their shadow, unleash
the dark program

remain dangerously true
to both
          species and brand