A UNIVERSE
give me a Universe
where our is still blue
and the sea
is not raw sewage
give me a world
where Sylvia did not
stick her head
in a gas oven
to commit suicide
give me a world
where there is not
by some other name
the practice
of slavery
give me a world
where there is no nuclear threat
giving us
the chance
to survive,
perhaps thrive
ALL ABOUT
I am all
about impartiality
giving all sides
equal footage
equal representation
when I report
on the great chess
championships
I see only grey;
never white, or black.
SUCKERS FOR PUNISHMENT
there is no time
there is
no reality
it is all just a dream
with special ingredient:
suffering
so
you have
been here before
.
with me
again, back for your,
and yes, my sins,
reading the poem
which you could not recognize
if you were not
already remembering,
already familiar
shock
(slight aftershock)
of recognition
sucker for punishment
(we are all
suckers for punishment)
SORRY FOR ASKING (SCORE)
Sorry for asking
but are these rituals
not meant to show
continuity
rather than rupture?
I sat and watched
the whole gaudy display
took me back, Coronation
Babe that I am
to those early wooden
watch-it with Mothers
(by which I mean benign
Matriarch, not
Frank Zappa,
no place here
for Beyond the Fringe Satire
though Python
himself did say he
found it Pythonesque)
but it was hard to square
Hal at Agincourt, Edward
at Towton
with that solid golden
carriage
the Met swooping in for
the kill
to add more stars
onto their shields
determined that
everybody asking will
be sorry that they
did so
forgetting history”s great,
great capacity
for evening the score.
NEED TO
Need to get to
gated community Heaven
whatever the sacrifice
whoever I have to step on
however high
the price
might have to hoodwink a bit
bluff my way in there
try to get
a spot near the throne
or anything upmarket
where the view is nice.
BLUNDER
chess master
wondered
if the Universe
had blundered
itself
into being
now we
know the endgame
best we can hope for
perpetual stalemate
seems a flaw in the plan
that things so
peter out
whilst down
in the dungeon
its business
as usual
just a few thinkers
to distance
from
their thoughts
THERE IS CHESS
there is chess
and then
there is
the Universe
a game of the fixed and certain
a machine for generating
strategic revision after
strategic revision
endless permutations
no game
ever the same
life and death and final
conflict
across a square board,
by another name
and beneath it all
this quantum ocean
softly fluctuating
dreaming
its dreams
the dream of chess
a beautiful one, a demonic one
a clear-cut straddler
of every division
between beauty
and nightmare
the pieces waiting
at your command
ready to talk their talk
ready to follow
the script
carve
you new pathways
the dark or light wood
moving across the board
pretty much
sub-
light speed
breaking the bounds
of hyperspace
navigating
the labyrinth
inside your head
ISLAND
It must be an island
no man is
an island
I am no man
I am the exception
to every syllogism
so I must be
an island
and that island must be this
one
I find myself
stranded upon
unable to ever leave,
island that I am.
PROLOGUE
it is a prologue of sorts;
at least it feels like one
Modiegi and I
are at the ocean
she has
never seen the ocean before
words are battling to
express what she feels
sentence structure is
creaking and groaning
I am overwhelmed
an old vessel trying
to cope with this
odd flood
of happiness
hard to tell
if we are both alive or dead.
MACHINE
the machine swallowed you
but not like it did
the Chaplin prole
not like it did that voiceless
Harlan Ellison being
stitched-up cross-
hatch in order
to make
the horror
more delectable
no, this machine
going to give you
an executive suite
ply you with
business class
and expense account
Martinis
keeping it all coming
keeping it all coming
lights out
at one two three
poems 2 die for