fairy tale – poems 2 die for

PROVE ITSELF TO BE

inspire me
write me a poem
where each line travels forever
journeys through the abyss
finds the light

and when you find the light
bring me back a tiny gleam
a small sprinkling
nothing Betelgeuse, nothing
Aztec
nothing spotlight on
the stage, searchlight at
Belsen-Belsen

but fairy tale forests you
can do me too
but no
Hansel & Gretel house, nor
immaculate little for
Kamp Kommandant
and his spouse
and their
endearing toddler

inspire with great epic tales
with which I can regale
aforementioned
toddler
that he might become
even after this horrible,
treacherous start,
truly
incandescent, fellow
with an unfathomably deep
humanity

redeem the world through
the seeming impossibility
of his own redemption

hard to quantify, even venture
an estimate
as how crucial to
our salvation,
beyond inspirational such

a turn for the better
             could, when the final
reports are
in
   prove itself to be

SEQUEL

so much
frightens us

fear
can hardly be
more pervasive

and me
on the couch
in your bedroom
spending the night

thought we
would read love poems together
but here we are
turned Hansel
and Gretel

you telling me
fairy tales
reading me
my riot act
of a bedtime story

suddenly something
inside outside
in the space between us
has turned enchanted forest

a war in the pub behind
the off licence, a sequel
of sorts
over how, blood
gets sullied and
the State gets, poisoned

and as we all stream East
directives to
destroy
every house
where there might
be gingerbread

horror
not to be spoken
about
worst species of witch
next tale
to be told being
a sequel
of sorts dictating who
gets
a cuddle, what
orphans get dumped
go full sleeping beauty on
tragic trajectory

we
counting the beads on
your ancient
rosary

entrusted to you for
wholesome protection
by someone’s tramp, vamp
much
misunderstood
stepmother

and now
spectres from a
haunted past rising
up
from their graves to
propogate the sugar
sweet myth.
of a delicious future

ovens for burning cakes
on an industrial scale

stuff
of nightmare for us
to dream upon

now that hope for something
deeply, deeply shared
has drifted so far away

IN BED

in bed
thinking of fairy tales

bed being
best place for
any kind of fairy
tale

inclusive of
child, adult and
seriously classified ones
the ones that
reveal
   the wicked witch is
not dead (reports of
her demise
strategically exaggerated) and Empire is
          forever always naked
just trick of
the light
        and indoctrination that
goes by the name
of education

that we see
what we believe:
Empire and Emperor
(its pure
embodiment) is always
richly attired
and powerfully adorned

no fear that this change
because fairy tale is the
dream of
all that abides
supremely happy ever after

above history
beyond change