THINK I MUST HAVE READ SOMETHING LIKE IT BY H G WELLS
I feel it now
something
burrowing
into
my brain
know the strategy;
see the tactical plan
how they plot
to nuke that landscape,
shred
my opinions
reduce me to a compliant
all-accepting wreck
crucial my contribution
to this war
of the worlds
upcoming election.
SPIT AND
we polish
the statues
of those
we imprisoned,
tortured, killed
bring out our
Muses of
history and, yes,
poetry
fiction is apt, though,
to re-cast this scene
knowing the story told
false to fact, unless
true to the certainty
of our
hypocrisy
GASHED
a butterfly
flapping its wings
can tip
the scales
in a chaos dynamic
as can
as many bombs and shells
fired and dropped
onto an area
the size of a postage stamp
as dropped on Laos, Cambodia
and Vietnam entirely
to save humanity
from itself
lucky
we have
the power of
these skygods
to look out for us
this
the most angelic
of all butterfly effects
MORPHOLOGY OF MARTIAN
let us
invent
an ancient language, lost
for millennia
call it “Martian”
let us
construct a grammar
divine a morphology
a language that will
refuse to lend itself to
the trite
and the trivial
bend its form and structure
in the service of evil
like all the languages do
on the planet right now
giving propagandists their
dark joy
in the fabrication of oppositions
construction
of hierarchies
building of pyramids and towers
to mask
diabolical schemes
no let our language
dispense with all gatekeepers
show itself truly generative,
supremely transformational
in its very acts of creation
turning to the galaxy
to glean
from every language,
every spoken
written tongue
downtrodden
and suppressed
FIELD THEORY
a thermonuclear blast
that’s real loadshedding for you
have to
figure out
lightning, atoms,
electromagnetic field
how they connect
what
is the exact interplay
between the four forces
all this at
a University
built
from twigs
and leaves
so much needing
to be re-
invented
not least
ourselves
GOODFELLOW
that juice
that misguides
messing with
the truth that is youth
in its
absolute
love
slurring word sounds to
fit that
shifty, narcotic
sex-dream picture
Oh
I do not hear
what I hear
do not see
what I see
my brute body far more
beast that it has ever been
your
fairy bower so
exquisitely
kindly
your words dripping with
the wonder of your
mouth, lips
parts I might
list
if I had
time to
Oh the love you have given me
too much for lifetime, enough
for one-night stand (more
might drown me)
that juice, my Queen,
so translated, brought
base to gold
great
alchemy
beyond the perfume trick
of simple chemistry
we must have bathed in
must have flowed, rolled
over our bodies
like a river
at which sight
Puck
puckered up
so
deeply impressed
UNDERWORLD
it is a war on the underworld
and so
they burn everything
and so
they burn the sky
the shades of heroes
long gone stare
across
the river
in supreme disbelief
not since
the Children’s Crusade
has an army of the tiny
mustered to cross
souls
that did not
have a chance to live
REFAAT
so now
they have resorted
to killing poets
because
the pen is mightier
than the sword
it is said
and they took that literally
and
as is well known
James Bond carries
his old Q branch
speciality
of rocket-
launching pen
nothing
more deadly
which
you know,
we know
every spy agency knows this
it is something that
military intelligence
even one
caught false flag asleep
at its post
has prepared for
extensively
trained for
exhaustively
knows
only too well
and how can
target
be a poet
if they are all animals?
that is the syllogism for you
to
take to heart
the
reactive-armour
heart they
gave you
as you plough through
guilty humanity
steel-skinned in
your Merkava
kampfwagen
hunting for the tunnel
will take you down to Hell
where
poets, great poets,
will all be waiting
to raise a few things,
take issue with you
by hook
or by crook
endeavour to persuade you
that there is
something in
this voice, about
this speech
that justifies itself
WHEN NC GOES MISSING
when Noam Chomsky goes
missing in M. I. T. they will
all say
end of an era
I will say
end of a planet
and
we will both
essentially
be correct
though my
feelings on the matter
might be difficult to
express
might struggle with
all sorts of
gatekeepers
internal and external
battle to find both
the voice and platform
in which and from which
to express this
eternal battle: beyond good and evil
(as Uber-Fred put it)
fight to
the death and
beyond death
between
the politics of print
and
creativity of grammar
Oh we all await
our day of reckoning
but how we
characterize them
so fundamentally
different
no rapture for me please, nor
May Day square tankfest
but to see you
on the podium confirms
grace
of intelligence
intelligence of grace
so much silver hair there
and beard
who now has the audacity
to argue the toss
for supremacy
of golden?
MANIFESTO
I am
the Mike Tyson
of poetry
go straight
for a knockout
best
pound
for pound
what’s that you saying
dissing me
at the weigh in?
sorry can’t make
head or tail
of it
seems you
just walked into
an uppercut
someone who is a real
backstreet badass
did
smack you
in the mouth
and there in faltered
your tactical plan and
halcyon vision
fell
by the wayside
third
knockdown
and out therefore
on a technicality
I studied this art
from Homer to Ezra
know
all these
technicalities
you may say
I am completely au fait
with
every tone and trick
and
ruse in typology
seamless it be
my artistry
which is
why you not seeing it
later
enlightenment, illumination
but for now:
lights out!
poems 2 die for