SNAIL
snail
sings itself to sleep
inner voice
resounding in
that shell
recites thd numbers
of the fibonacci
sequence
better than
counting sheep
easier to segue into
fable of a cosmos
it cannot see
but feel
golden spiralling into
imagining itself stuff
of a star such as lens and
book of
belief
assure us we are
snail-like centuries
to get us this far
ALTAMIRA
poem is
when the world
goes binary
poem is
in that darkness
and separation
in a fever of deprival-
induced hallucination
animals in all
our wildness
flash upon
and through the white
cave wall
and we
see everything
suddenly our whole story
shifting revelation
of shapes and forms
death and life
in dance of fusion
and even in depth
of darkness
light
of suns, message of
a star
VOICES
those voices
surge, they burn
promise to become
incandescent, and
threaten it too
behind
this shield of gases, vapours
we do not see the odd
star dance, others
as the old tale tells,
stopped
in their tracks
to hear such spluttering lives
take flame, exult, exalt
as if
they were lines
in the same grear epic
one great poem
one pure song
the hall echoing for
years thereafter
.this empty hall echoing
still echoing if only
we could still hear it
compare it to the sound of
the ice cracking, seismic
ripples
and tears
as
our voices lost
our poetry gone
the world chooses silence
and now fragments
LITTLE WORDS
little words
William, neat, little
but they rhyme
like a charm
their lightning
hits you long
you even sense how
easily seeming simplicity
has
got the better
of you
these little words of power
prowling across the page
burning
with mutable malleable
fire
fore you
stand shocked
fooling yourself
BOATS FLOAT
boats
float
boats
disappear
screws with my mind
the causality here
loaded with refugees
now
nowhere to
be seen
to some
a sadness
to others nothing
short of
palpable
relief
the sea so fraught,
so fickle
so
uneven
in its favour
bringing
horror to all
horror in sadness
horror in
relief
but worse, far worse
awaiting the survivor
no perfect storm at sea
ever came close
to this mother of
maelstroms
once
setting foot on land
FOR DESSERT
the Oompa Loompas know
how to do
they even know
how to do-be-do-be-do
shovel in the sugar
sing their moral song
like little purple and
green machines
what on Earth
could go wrong?
but I think my fault
is knowledge
know just too much to do
would like to go with Wonka
down the crazy-trip ranting Rimbaud
tunnel
time
after time
after time
after time
write a pretty little
dissertation or two
Ah, yes Charles,
I remember in this
tide of failure
you hard on my case
pressurizing me
not to do it
not to do it
and yes I appreciate
the terror of failure
of thin reward
quite incommesurate
with the absolute labour
Oh this entropy of the cosmos
brutal vagaries of the market
wish I had the power to
go supernova at the drop
of a
hat
.
but hold back
until they come crying for
needing
absolute victims of
the insanity of pure demand
the purity of supply keeping
them in thrall of their maestro.
DAB HAND
if a hand, or perhaps
a whole arm (left
or right)
appeared out of nowhere
for a friendly shake
would you shun all
contact? would
you comply
for ghostly, spectral hands
are not
what they were
are
by no means as
friendly as
their original intent
no means as transparent,
trustworthy
free of malice by
accident
malice by
demonic purpose
set to realize the darkest
unconscious dreams,
fantasies and
nightmares
of that wonderfully charitable
circumspect
and spiritually endearing
soul
of Man
SHADOW
I am so pared down
pear
for me is fruit
of duality
what a pair! (derision, vouce of
so-called social standards)
what a pair! (voice of crude
sexual appreciation, titillation)
my Mum and me
were a true pair (I do
not lie
I have seen the pictures)
I have divorced
myself
from her memory
for reasons I cannot possibly
possibly divulge here
but is this separation by
paradox not our great
communal experience
tragically
connected in that
we are all
so separate, all so
alone
and in the end
all we were is just shadow
shadow
but even shadow can
blemd, pool
I am shadow so separate
I have gone already
shadow and self
only unity there
can ever be
DRAW
let go!
let go!
there is no poem
strong enough
to get me to hold on
no words to feed me with
the power to overcome
all the bad
you said, all the bad
you did
and so
I fall
having let go
the world rushing
up to meet me
to imprint me
with the truth of
failure
and loss and pain
and fathers and gravity
those dice
you can tell that
they read
snake eyes
my birth, my life
luck of the bad draw
poems 2 die for