DEMONIC
you were once
labelled love synonymous
but now
we decided
we like you callous and cruel
prefer you
as death threat
happy if you love the
hate we have become
as we further warp
and twist our image
knowing it to be divine
by sacred
definition
no matter how
much
it murderously delight
in how demonic
it has
grown
YOU
you, whom I love,
who twice
(not once)
gave me
the gift of life
who are you?
where
are you?
nothing of what I am told
can I longer believe
imagining writing the text
saying the words that
will change the picture
transform
everything
but there you are, at
my level,
down to my
size
picking up stones
rooting through the rubble
lest there be those
lost and forgotten
erased by history
needing to be
found
restored to memory
OMELETTE
“you egg!”
Macbeth,
Act 4, Scene2
make for
bizarre bedfellows
lead to
crazy places
they definitely do
Darwin
to the jackboot
merry old Malthus
to the electric fence
dingy ripped
and ravaged
upon the ocean
propaganda as truth
set up in best
civllized dress
but slice and dice
whichever way you cut it
there is just too much egg;
today too many eggs
which are
not to preferred taste
being of the wrong shape
and size and
State-approved colour
hence the forever
Napoleonic solution
of
military omelette
What are your favorite animals?
ALLOW ME
Oh let me
determine to
re-engineer
every paroxysm of
crescendo in
our
head-
to-head spectacle
be nothing if not
gorgeous subtle
in whatever word
interface
with all my
Sun and Moon,
everything of mine
tuned to
your specific sublimities
causal, yet Oh so perfunctory
and utterly lesser
in rapturous
capacity
as is
Shakespeare soliloquy to
shriek of delight to
close
drunken rant
superfluous as
expressed
DARK
Oh, what a burden you wear
my Prince of shadow
hard not to think of you
head-to-toe in black
the state
is a lie
your castle
is death
your family
a prison
and behind this sweet tragedy
what writer has
contrived
to conceal what
might be
close to this bone
this sepulcher of a stage
littered
with all we have
come to hate and love
and thus History arriving
(as it tends to) with
an army
new flags, iconography,
presence of dawn
this the
poet knows, indeed
seems steeped in, riddled
with it
something here
so consummately dark.
MASH UP
it’s all
a mash up
can’t get head or
tail of anything
saw this thing bullet-
spewing, bullet-riddled
claiming to
be rational
so, for God’s sake,
plrase exercise, and if not
exercise,
express extreme caution
when you pitch up
at my door to exterminate
careful not to throw
me and the baby
out with the boiling bathwater
as you flood through
every room with
mandate
to control
penchant to wipe out
JUNGLE GYM
I ate my jungle oats
you are your jungle oats
you ate my jungle oats
I ate your jungle oats
we ate our own and
each other’s jungle oats
not at the watering hole
but in bed together
you telling me that aliens
came to this planet Janet
tens of thousands of
years ago
as is recorded on
scroll and parchment
to build the pyramids
and screw
our woman
the former with sonic resonance
and photon matter creation
technology
maybe, safe to say,
pretty much
the latter too
and you trying to tell
me that
Noah’s Ark was actually
a saucer-shaped vehicle
(like alien craft on the cover
of an
Amazing Stories 50s Sci-Fi
magazine)
nothing more lewd or leering
than one of those aliens
desperate for
the feeling of humanoid
tits and shit
and me making all sorts
of irreverent and disgusting
sexual puns
during the entirety of
her discourse
obviously not the kind of
civilized fore and interplay
that would lead
with neat evolutionary
procreative logic
to our own little
trans-linguistic
conjugation
and most
intimate and
nearest thing
to
cosmic encounter of
way more
than three-dimensional kind
poems 2 die for