Category Archives: 1, poem, poetry,

SPEAK FOR MYSELF

SPEAK FOR MYSELF

and so
forced to acclimatize
we connected the dots
got the big picture

which of course
did not in any way say
was there
on the inside wheedling
whittling away

and so
     in some city state
a ferocious text about
to launch itself
take flight
   savage monarchy
and religion

a new
kind of villain at the stage door

and me, despite my
best instincts, being
pushed in a direction
curiously reptilian

burning eyes
             blue tongue

pockets for poisons and
concealed array
of daggers

the darkness of forest
overgrown uncomfortably
close to the throne

RIGHT TO REMAIN

RIGHT TO REMAIN

espied you
waving your wand
glaring at the stars
determined
to tear them apart

whilst below
             far below
ensconced in Hades
Eurydice can here
her husband’s love
beautifully
sung, closing in

there fellow shades
muster support
gather to
explain to her
the symbolic significance
of her
    own mythology, deconstructing
this text, reading it
against the grain, wholly
from the liminal
perspective
   of borders
and margins

Oh, if there were only pure
light down here not
perverse neon

enough raw
plain, uncomplicated energy
to carry her through
lift her
high above
       dive like a swallow
into the arms
of Oedipus

where she can speak
with conviction of all
none
   but she can
now explain

and there too
you, our celebrated astronomer

wondering
     about the planets
all the planets
and whether
        denuded of majesty,
stripped
of mystery, void
of so-called
music
      of the spheres
they have a right to remain

FRIENDS

FRIENDS

would rather be caught
in bed with Stalin’s girlfriend

than have to suffer
the excruciating torture
of listening to you speak
(“speech” here
an euphemism
for demented droning

poor take
on dictatorial power,
resurrection of Caesarism
if you ask me

so let me
stick to my principles
even risking
the Gulag

Siberian subzeroes
to freeze
my skin to bone

but then
       the intelligence of
fellow inmates, their
loyalty to the ideology

believing
in the system, banking
on the real
possibility

that they could well
survive to serve
as confidants
become
   the Boss’ closest friends

WHAT TO MAKE OF THIS

WHAT TO MAKE OF THIS

Oh, what
to make of this

all those inbred crazy
arguments from analogy

conclusion being
there we have it
shut all your doors
batten the hatches
and set sail

ten strike fleets with carriers
all integrated into one
ultimate bipartisan armada

each carrier
reminding us of
great
snd not so
great Presidents

contained, perfectly
preserved within
a bubble

total logical technological wholesale impossibility
rather
    the stars collapse

high ceiling
caves in.

AT THE SHEBEEN

AT THE SHEBEEN

I took Wallace Stevens
down to the Shebeen

we dined
on braised cow’s head
and a selection
of South African beers

all of this chased down
with tub-fulls of
salted caramel ice cream

throughout this novel experience
I felt I could detect things whirring
in that machine-like faultlessly
poetic brain

something afoot behind
those placid eyes
finely meshed, sublimely
purposeful

some I dream, gut-feeling,
but also there
in heart
of hearts

he will real all this off
by way of a special poem
cleverly infected
                    in language
flirting with becoming
totally impenetrable to me.

READING MR STEVENS AS SHADE OF COLOURLESS GREEN

READING MR STEVENS
AS SHADE OF COLOURLESS GREEN

close to the shoals
of colourless green
Mr Stevens verged
close
to wreck, was
my initial fear

this I saw
oe believed
I did espy
with my
own two eyes each

mesmerized
though
the sound did sedate whereupon
yes, seduced me
to a danger
I dare
not stomach
actually embrace

and to
think out there
a, whale of a, whirlpool
Charybdis to outdo
closest thing
terrestrial (I meant maritime)
to that fat
killer singulaity
they say drives the galaxy

and yet be
a secret
submarine portal to
an all new
nonsense Wonderland

where
Hatter 2.0 and
the entire 2.0 gang

speak this post post post
Also Sprach colourless
idea
sleeping, dreaming, totally
insomniac
deconstructive
jibber jabber

giving
the poem such
a hard time of it

ideas colourless green
fried to a frazzle
in the desert

or there miraculously in
the mind of Apollo
whilst

he sleeps
lives his cosmic wet dream

read it here, on the page,
then tell me
it might never come to be

DIG

DIG

dig deep enough
and
for this moment,
for God’s and.
all our
sakes

forget your pretensions
of becoming a gentleman
recent
     revelations have
proved that tribe extinct

quibble with me if you must
temper getting frayed
delving
     into dissonance
sounding like
a squiggling saxophone
as Wallace,
    high priest of poetry and
its elite gatekeeper
might have said

but there
of a sudden, shovel scrapes,
spade makes good
motherlode
of dirt
    and debauchery

low organs finding it
hard to be
their own
true selves in
the highest places
searching for
compliance, rule
by fear, a
surrendering niche

calling it
     by its name, spadefuls
of names
as we begin
excavating

proof
     that nobody is above
but then the
below

happens to be worse
than you thought
anyone can go

and yet
     you found this treasure
only to get
it crime scened
with all
that that means

knowing
the sick beating heart
of this
corruption

intense as demons
we will still dig
indeed keep digging

for God’s and
all our sakes
we have nowhere left
to go

OVERNIGHT

Decided you all deserve to be scared out of your wits now WW3 starting in the next few days is probably in the region of a 99.99% certainty.
OVERNIGHT

after the war
I found myself
to have spider legs
and tentacles
a thousand eyes

which would have made it difficult to prove my identity,
nationality not
to speak of humanity

a sitting target for homeland
security
except there
is no homeland

and if anyone comes this way
calling me
into question
will be
the very definition
of a suicide mission

gone in thirty
microseconds
having written thirty poems
a novel, and the
definitive history
of this
the last human
armed conflict
(armed
conflict, without arms)

overnight genetic mutation
having
some advantages,
no way entirely and
absolutely
necessarily a
world ending thing

TICK

TICK

beware the
time, of the tick
your speech
already rambling
pretty fucked up

and
      tick yourself
you bite, you suck
give yourself
permission to leave
the table Harkonen
blood-bloated

who were meant
to be more symbiotic
than parasitic
in style
of leadership
   delivering so little
promising
so much
   taking so much

you said you
would drain the swamp
end up draining us,

draining us, denying us,
despising us, depriving us,
meant
to uplift

giving new sick meaning
to the image of bounty,
symbol
of overflowing

but
speaking of symbolic
it seems you eschew
all that
is indeed so
better to stick to
the sclerotic, the
crying out for diagnostic ,

tick
   gets pulled
tick gets squashed
all its pilfered, stolen
blood
   one fat smudge
of what
it was
nothing else to see