WHOLLY FORGET
optical illusion
delusion
allusion
noise in every act of communication
guitar feedback
reaching
crescendo
and now you tell me
I am twisted like a Mobius
pretzel
me is that strain of
consciousness
that gets
filtered out
so many roles just
one actor
best in concentrating
of this taxing script
the other roles be
the ones to wholly forget
NO SWEAT
I smell
of sweat
smell of death
a smell
to savour
sweat
laced with death
raw odour
needing a tad more
of your perfume
and spice on my skin
and so this alchemy
whose secret
barely hidden
opens itself
to scrutiny
lead
turned to platinum
gold
to uranium
crystal to
diamond
water
to steam
and star blazing
fissile energy
force of
such
fusion
stuff of that
industry
to thing that you are
which
that old skald, old troubadour
Saxon
Norman Viking
Celt
within me
can sing of hesitantly, imperfectly,
the superabundance you require
so
much long gone
all its
revelation
lending itself
to
all
that
is rival, separate
Other
distant in time
faithfully elsewhere
whilst
I smell of sweat, do
speak here
of death
and other transformation.
THE ESTABLISHED WISDOM
the established wisdom
strongly suggests
superglue to stick
the pieces together
from proposition to
conclusion
everything snapping
together like Lego bricks
thus
the position will stand cast
iron logic being
a veritable castle
no chance out there
of (on the sly) some
slavery funnelled
in
on the sly in
guise of
state of the art
sweatshop
drawbridge portcullis
they know
what to
say
how to read
everyman his rights
no way for
metaphor
on their watch
to Derrida the
base
superstructure down
toppling
so card
tower
(who would
have thought?)
to attack the base bring
card tower down
toppling
here in this bullpen
the rodeo of ideas
can so unsettle
that you
ride
that buck bronco backwards
thinking this confederate
union cavalry
and
go with the flow
see what history will make
of that
Gettysburg
last day
whose outcome prefigured
(curse
of tremors in
the market, much
insider
trading)
a house divided
against itself
if not as themselves houses
then perhaps
as
safe as a bank
and there the ranks of the
blue and the gray
under different
white stars
it is said
history
with many, many
more lessons than
sparing rod; spoiling child
FLAT
sweet iced tea
booze chaser
from T S in vogue
to Charlie at the bar
my, how
time flies
and way
we classify
smoke with
every breath
bourbon splash
sometimes pancakes
are all a reader needs
syrupy
ever do sickly
way beyond
definition of flat
POEM FOR HELEN NATASHA
tough love
cruel to be kind
but let mention she
who needed to win
most of all
see her favourite’s name
up in the city of lights
Achilles slain
the towers fallen
she who was raped
less than harmoniously returned
and who, being man,
being man born of woman
would be so
out of his right mind
to vote
against her
spurn that offer
she flirting with the idea
of full divine disclosure
revelation
of that so in utter excess
of mere mortal beauty
mere legendary
beauty of
a Spartan Queen
straining against the bit
holding back unless
her hero
lose his sight
die sublime
kind to
be cruel
cruel to be kind
OVERNIGHT
I am desultory chicken boy
coming home to roost
chaos joker dancing
in the pale moonlight
anarchic fellow
crowing long before the dawn
scarred I am
my features are
sacred beginning: crashed
the party hurtling headlong
headfirst
from the boot
of your cab
bouncing off windshield
back into the Underworld
life in your
luxury lap to
utter amazement of all
my Queen of Hades
dancing
to inherit the Earth
cocksure
this is the life that was meant
Herr Will-to-Power
these the roads most
follow
to dig up
overnight
BALL
ball rolled down
a chuté
shot out
a spring
sure
thing
and me Mr Uncertainty
only ever
graduating to
Professor Still-
in-Doubt
Oh that clockwork
chocolate marionette soldier
holding the line
never
breaking ranks
when the ball that the Universe
let itself be scooped
into
enters our system
collides with
our planet
will all or gods confer
debate pooling their powers
the Sun sad to see
any of his vast circle
of siblings and
children
summoned and judged
assigned the fine
hairline
cosmic justice of
planned
extinction event
LIGHTLY
dove flew
(24/7
at her beck and call)
down from
Olympus
quicksilver service of
his divine mistress
she needing
a word, more
than a word with her
misfiring genius
also
express delivery a vial
not of regular old absinthe but
crystal-precious ambrosia
not just
once but twice, thrice
carbon filtered and
scientifically
distilled
his eyes still smarting in recoil
from her last light show
before she decided
to conclude mutual proceedings
in standard mortal
Helen of Troy form
whatever and
whichever way to
be diced
she
not to be taken lightly
jazz of her in full worship glory
too much for
me to bear
LONG NIGHT
let me walk you through
the length of a night
the breadth of a poem
sorry if you so surely Shelley
about the nature of rhyme
miss a beat, grimace
flutter as the lines stutter
not Homer blind but
pretty much a
stick-shuffling cripple
trying to make it through
short days
long nights
when you so cookie-cutter
about everything
dial in delivery
everything on the menu
from hot to
G spot
long night love afterglow
basking in luxury
let me
cuddle my pen
dishing you
this trash
SUCH THINGS
supply
demand
greed
shackles and
sheckels
we got a whole
market economy
but what
the downside, what
the tightening tariff
tell me now
for I was born of woman
am part of that insanity
but now
for my sins
though still wedged in
am edging my way out
tunnelling
towards the light
I never truly
believed in
scarcely a scrap of paper
to my name
to record
what I feel here
instinctively, by Nature
(Reason to
catch up later).
words begging
for attention
kiss my ass to that bliss
which I
never earned anyway
you tell them you tell them
what we started with
such hope
dead from imagination
poems 2 die for