Category Archives: AI art included

POETICA

POETICA

I wrestle with words
mud wrestle with them

take on every kind of figure
of liberation and repression;
tag-team fight with tigers
real and paper

never win however, my
career pretty awful
bereft of any victories

perhaps something
in the mud
consistently on
their side, already purchsed
to favour

when I get down and dirty
never really thought
how down and dirty
could
play so dirty

and the great gods of
our body politic bound
to cheat
as a matter of principle

anything in that sub-sphere
vaguely harmonic, barely
poetic

going to get the absolute
skew-eye when it
comes to
judicial image
as framed
smoking gun when
we go to VAR

(all that mud

they get to sift through)

THINGS

THINGS

Things crumbling
imperceptibly changing
and not for the better
all about energy and
closed and
open systems

but bear with me
there is dynamic, much afoot
some strange principle here
amongst all these
swirling particles

and yet
they are not particles
They have only the dream of a particle the whim of a field the thought of a spectacle yes bear with me this is going to be my slowest most considered most laborious poem the one that rambles on and on and on doubling back on itself out Wordsworthing Wordsworth

I guess this is the only type of
poetry genuinely left to write

this is my Solaris Mirror Stalker deep
and dark most Tarkowski of poem

oblique, difficult
conceptually
diffuse obtuse suspicious of words that hide what the carry within them

words that are hollow
resonate with the nothing
they bear within

this is me floating Sub-Zero
this is me looking where no one else has looked not knowing what we’ll be found this isn’t me stripped of human company empathising homing in on the suffering of others the pain of others
speaking dreaming the
dark night darkness we all feel the dream that coldly informs us
there will not be
an awakening

in the centre of the labyrinth
where sonething is there for us to
show (not tell) that
consciousness is meaningless consciousness is nothing consciousness is an accident at
the heart
in the nature of things

the broken
fragmented dark energy
anti-matter

frozen violently expansive imploding heart
of things.

GLOW

GLOW

walked into the Cafe

fish in the tank
had an unearthly glow

no one else seemed
              any the wiser

seems it is
the privilege of being born
twelfth sign
              to read this text
devise the code

and see with eyes
pure Old Testament

but as we
          enter this establishment
scan, reconnoitre,

see this bunch of executive media
types crunched around a table
talking District 9
        or possibility of TV follow up
with talent competition and
fun rides

      I could pitch them my talent show
all of them
          contestants, nobody survives

and the fish trying to sell me something  could it
be a (fish)fingerprint of the gods tale of
Antarctica hiding
                    Atlantis

love these lost cities when feel lost
in the city, lost in my own mind

should write an alternate history in which
my ex-wife led a revolution sending me
                                      and my kind South
to Antarctica

where
            there are alien space bases, lunatic
                                                fringe has it

me and
          my kind      I do not have a “kind”

milk of
              human kindness milk of my galaxy

spiral nebula in my coffee could be Andromeda

hurtling towards us
                                  take billions of years to get here,

Greek mythology certified, sweet extinction on its way

I know
  you know
                                      I glow
                                      you glow

twin slit experiment    you wave me away

DROOLING

DROOLING

the gargoyles are drooling
at the prospect
of their emancipation

entombed in stone
now they are
to be resurrected,
thrown upon the world
monstrously released

for the demons they were
meant to
            protect us all,
the simple faithful

are amongst us, 24/7
and in the current electronic
maelstrom we swirl in

impossible to tell
what
      is limbo
                    what is
                    Hell

sane to
    have given up
                        on bliss
and joy
      and glimpse of Heaven

ONE ONE

ONE ONE

Gary has scored!
Gary has equalized against
this team from the thirties
he spun, hit his shot and
it went in on
the rebound after
taking a deflection

but now they say
he should stick to
punditry, stick
to scoffing crisps

and they want the goal
disallowed, they demand
a recount
    insist there must
be a referendum
on the decision from VAR

so Gary’s goal will be disallowed
and what sinks must carry on sinking
there are wave machines
to sort this out
      and full fan hatred
        shouting singing.

JOINT

JOINT

join me
we going to walk backwards
to the beginning of time

our book of cosmology
before us to guide us

make sure we avoid
possible supernovas
certain blackholes
neutron stars, flares
and explosive
gamma bursts

holding hands in
the starlight, the future receding
and then —

such celebration
when we arrive
at our destination
positively ticking from
all that
background radiation

every moment on our travels
helping to meld our two minds

CAREFUL

CAREFUL

be careful
what you
do with

how you read
how you treat
this poem

avoid all risk of
contamination

shield
with tin foil
or with
concrete shell
containing
a lead-
lined box

the energy at the heart
of this poem
simply following
Einstein’s
equation
could split your
every atom

radiate
the Hell out of
you

INTEGRITY

INTEGRITY

you are a voice
you proclaim it
to be so

standing before an
empty canvas

staring
      into space

I read the guide
it tells me
    the title of
this piece
    is, if I read
it right, “Whatever”

I would like to smirk
but fear aesthetes
might stone me

missed that semester course
on dead surrealism
                        was spending
much of that time
feeling and
          looking vacant

imagining a world where
there was no Spanish Civil War
ergo
      no International Brigade
      no Picasso Guernica

maybe the Universe sometimes
takes poetic license

could it be
        that we are all long-passed
and this is all a De Chirico,
Dali-esque forever recycled
state
      of dreaming?

who knows how to
          find the truth, get
to the bottom
    of this matter

what is it with truth
                              anyway?
always looks
            feels        so suspect

as is the case with all these
either-or binaries

          damned if you do
            damned if you don’t

see you added your own little
postscript to that non-painting
destroying
      its artistic integrity

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