THE ODDS

THE ODDS

threw a
Hail Mary

what are
the odds
       historically

it be caught for six points
or fly to the Moon
on the wings
of Apollo?

less or
more
    always a risk factor

must check those sacred pages
in my father’s manifesto
of social disconnection

great-grandchild of
some famine immigrant
sold a dream story
of opportunity

progeny of some child
of Africa transported
across the Atlantic
chained
       in the hold
to work
those prosperous fields

out there in the touch zone
holding the victory ball
or still waiting
          receiver by trade
and set
to receive

the crowd ecstatic that we
have a
Sitting Bull ambush, have
a Wild Bill
          shootout

have some music demigod
to serve the half-time feast

red zone
hell hole

too far ahead in
space and time
for me
      to ascertain with
degree of
certainty

the shifting nature of this game
cowboys, packers,
miners, and most
typically
      raiders, chiefs and
buccaneers

see in its logic
          all we need to know
must
     now envision

the spectacle
         telling its truth, making

the ambition of its
        intentions clear

MONTANA

MONTANA

set up
a Hail Mary

pass to fellow
creature of longing

doomed to wait
to receive

being that likewise
would if could
fritter away time
reading, reciting
every spectacular Canto
of Signor Pablo Neruda

tracing the stellar pathways
between meanings
     from
word to word
between the sheets

whilst I scanned
every planned text
at the
   line of scrimmage

waiting
     upon word of touchdown
from deep distance
beyond

but nebulous
are the chances with
cast-iron defences

space time so curved
makes a nonsense
of trajectory

and you
    so far from my life as
the vast
    State of Montana

need the range
and telescopic accuracy of
Joe to
    deliver this
here message

coasts to be crossed
hazards negotiated

still
    to have hope
for my faith and
      restoration of belief

FIELD OF PLAY

FIELD OF PLAY

yet another humongous
rock approaching

coming at toxic velocity
to slap the dinosaur out of me

see if
    I can bounce back
school
     of hard knocks
    
take
it on the chin

but
   did underestimate me
and my technical prowess
a devotee
        sensei

of the
beautiful game

as I rose like a missile
to meet aforementioned comet
with the meat
of my forehead
clear my lines head
it away having
      a neck of steel

sent that interstellar off
course trollop back
where
       it came from

teach it to steer well
clear of this our
beloved Terra
        this bright blue
ball that
we care so much for

never never
ever again
       love itself so
shamelessly aimlessly
into our field of play
     

SOUPER

SOUPER

it is the souper
souped-up cup

supermen ubermensch
teams of eleven Messis
eleven Cristiano Ronaldos
each managed
       by eleven Pep
Guardiolas

no offside law, infinite
omniscient VAR

four quarters, half-
time penalty shoot-outs
everyone wins but
survival of the fittest
massive
      reigns supreme
most gladiatorial of
all festivals of galactico
                     
those about to do
do salute
             load of their shoulders
now no stupid
qualifying
     the algorithm determines
and (above all) relegation free

giving the people
the fans

exactly what
they have been told to want
(who says you can’t get
     exactly what
                         we want?)

no boring overthink
of structures, formations,
systems, tactics

in fact no such thing
as tactics at all

      the numbers
determine

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.