Category Archives: 1, poem, poetry,

CROSSBOW

CROSSBOW

I interrogated Aphrodite
after the fall of Troy

so much death and devastation
through her direct interference
all for a single
golden apple, and the required
abduction of a queen

holding her in
the sights of my
crossbow whilst
I bombarded her
with questions

on the nature of love,
her sacred domain, and
why
   it should exist at all
when it destroys
so many of us

or leaves us
alone and yearning
victims of its disdain.

DARK POETRY

DARK POETRY

no twist, turn,
switch

though by all means
a switching on
of the light

a searching, probing
light

the kind survelling the landscape
scanning the skies

enough luminosity there
to scare anyone away
from
   subterranean explorations

writing dark poetry,
commonplace anathema

who knows in
the darkness
         what razor’s edge
what peril to hard-won
community?

what sways and bends, plunges
deep into itself
           goes full on despair
of Garden of  Gethsemane
petals of
   blood there
to be seen?

yes
   what we have here
must say what it says write
as is written

in the absence of light
suddenly that which dazzles

what
    the reader demands
never
an abyss, no dark
night of the soul

SYLVIA 2026

SYLVIA 2026

Sylvia i would take blackberrying again
out amongst
those luscious, vicious.
brambles one
last time

be like children
unrestrained. gorging
ourselves stained red
returning home
bloodied
    with load upon load
in plastic bags
telling ourselves
soon soon soon
we shall all be
in pie Heaven

it was a war
gathering them
but we
were unshakable

so having
fought a war
to capture this
wild treasure

let love
be the power
we next consider

so much we both
need to redeem there
we have
our mad symbols which
to some extent will
serve us, help
with the co-creation
of one common reality

much
lovemaking to learn
starting from
the ground up

with the care of watchmakers
dealing with a machine
of such sensitivity,
such intricacy

all those cogs and jewels
and tiny immaculate gears

watching your fingers
move through the thorns
is
    as if i were watching
the playing of
some strange, exotic
beautiful instrument

transcendental
as if composing 
writing the exact music
of this scene
for every berry
a sublime note.

XENO POEMS

XENO POEMS

1.  SUN

the xenomorphs
were playing
in the Sun

having such fun – –
    I did not think
biological creatures could
survive such. unseasonably
high
    temperatures at the heart of
the corolla

****

2.  BOOK

the xenomorph
was reading me
like a book

a Lovecraft book
one which
         turns its
own pages
tiny tentacles reaching out
from inside the book itself

****

3. FOOD

the xenomorph
shared its, food with me

after which, as act
of reciprocity,
shared me
with its food

****

4. CHOIR PRACTICE

The xenomorphs
having attainef consciousbess

found
religion

are gathered together
to conduct a huge debate
whether to
crucify, or
simply burn at the stake

the worst of all heretivs, apostates and sinners
and those
                 habitually
late for
     choir practice

****

5.  WAR

humans sent a delegation
to the xenomorphs

attempting to
civiluze them
moderate
their savagery

teach them the
gentle art
of human warfare

annihilating cities,
with state of
the art
    weapons

fire
   and forget

aimed at targets
thousands of
miles away

so
   casualties
not an issue








RENAISSANCE

RENAISSANCE

let’s have a Renaissance,
invent new styles, devise
new rules

a whole new way of seeing
small r, big R, modest, huge,
tailor made to alter
this mind set which
has led us
to follow what we
are being told
into year
upon year of
extreme disasters and
insurmountable crises

and to get this off the ground
before directly or
indirectly fire
finds
  and destroys us

burning us to a crisp
devouring all hope, guzzling
all food

this in the name
of 
   the highest ideals, as we
now see them
by virtue of which
we would
slaughter one another
destroying ourselves

believing this alone,
above everything,
sets us
on the right path
to the transcendence
of species

hurtling towards the right,
fully moral, sharply spiritual
fully linear
    incandescent realization
of our
determined life path

so
let’s have
a Renaissance, rewrite
everything here utterly

IMPASSE

IMPASSE

you glance
at my poem

my poem
looks back at you
into you

you glare
at my words,
suspicion impacted

wondering
what lies beneath, here
we hit an impasse

no way to
resolve this
applying the protocols,
rules, regulations
of current civilization

unless image
by image, symbol
by symbol,
together it is
we negotiate this page

trade, vent, share,
exchange

for the sake
of the poem

refract, reflect,
rescind, do what
we both do best,
perform
    a whole number
full-on optics and chemistry

without these
no hope for any preservation
of mere mortal remains

NOT YET WORLD

NOT YET WORLD

I received (or perhaps found)
a poem from the future
which I lacked
the technology
to wake
from its cryogenic sleep
(in this state presumably
that it might be
preserved
to be read
not in the past but
in their future)

was sure it would
help us resolve
the riddles of
our past
whilst giving at least
some inkling
of our evolution, and
the nature of the .
way technology would
be reshaping us
in order to assume radically redefined transhuman shapes,
perfect for
the pursuit of
exotic directions

and so I sit
using every bit
of ingenuity to
find
my way in

read
text, break
the code

decipher, deconstruct (as far as
I can) the message contained
it appears
to Express take a,precious glimpse into

the assuredly alien,
perhaps
incomprehensible nature of
that not
yet
world