Tag Archives: Gaza

GIMME

GIMME

world’s
falling apart

little children
getting blown
to
   smithereens

so gimme that
sweet false consciousness
that would come
with a
    SuperBowl victory

don’t let Mahomes
spoil everything
with
    an insane overtime
charge

this after Kyle left
his best laid plans
in a briefcase
in the
    locker room

this is not
   the script I want,
I need

so write me a new one
bring me that
thick syrupy delusion
that a Niners’
Vegas victory
          would bring

the world falling apart
                         bits
of little
children

how come I always get
             caught this way

how come
I’m not
         so smart
                   

WITH EURIPIDES

WITH EURIPIDES it’s a strange theatre we are watching one where the actors leap off the stage slaughter the audience kill every single one of us I am sure neither the Elizabethans nor the Greek tragedians foresaw this development this total identification of player with character in this strange new brand of history play

OF BELIEF

OF BELIEF Thought I should write love poem to (and for) the world but it probably will not end how I think it should how i wanted it to thos is the issue with creation never turns out how you hoped or thought and there is no going back to the drawing board Oh the architecture happening right now in my brain, my head, lying naked on the bed in my tiny house on this farm curtains closed lights left off (even if out of loadshedding but a moment before) imagining I could just rachet up the sensitivity and feel the flowers grow hear them breathe and talking (thinking) of nakedness, my dear, is yours not overdue? but hold that thought even worse news from the Middle East streaming in pictures of Dantesque horror words of insanity, of satirical vulnerability everything up to the max pushed to extremes (not what Aristotle was thinking what he figured on teleology would derail poor Socrates in his project of self-knowledge and moral sphere) things here so naked, exposed in all their ugliness (by every metric) bleak intensity things the world of the farm would not believe and so naked as I am speaking to you calling out to you wondering what your good self might make good or best and even better in whatever illogical gradation fullness of our together might sway the nature of belief.

LINE OF SIGHT

LINE OF SIGHT

you are
missing my poem
it is
not

in your line
of sight

and dumb ordinance
not guided
no matter how
much you drop,
you fire

not
a single hit

and, to labour
the point,
furthermore,
this is not
the terrain for
attac
at high speed

all
turret
and tracks

and so
always begging
to differ

I feel I must ask
who has the firepower
here mustered
to put a dent
in the word, the living
word

surgically, single shot,
put that light

out
in an instant

make
a confirmed kill
for once

in this rubble

over and above
all that is wholesale
decayed, false flag

lying
through its teeth

not
best
for rebuttal

this ricochet from the truth

OUT OF WORDS

OUT OF WORDS a poem came floating by blessed song and me so ravaged, stunned, out of words whispered to me tales of terrible war of superlatives litanies of pain, of agony and yet promise that somehow, sometime all will be restored the great theatre of the stars still speaking even through the smoke of the sky whispering that the tragedy can turn become our great final human comedy once, at last, we begin to understand so many broken souls wishing to take themselves far away out of words a poem came floating by

HERE


HERE

it was not a great play

the Danish constabulary
arresting Hamlet’s
uncle
    in the final
scene

bringing him to justice
full force of the law

warm
    inside we felt
but harrowing catharsis
was what we
paid for

nothing quite like the blood
soaked stage
       that marks the escalation
to biblical proportions

full geometric progression
that marks the fulfiment
of desired revenge

likewise
      love restored
Othello and Desdemona
working on jealousy and
self image
    in partners’ therapy

or Dionysus giving Pentheus
a book to read
      about his divinity help
this stupid
  fascistic king

better understand
         the god of ecstasy’s ultimate
terrible kindness,
beautiful power
     (Nietzsche’s The Birth
of Tragedy
could do this well)

but
    none of these cut it
none make the cut
          regarding what
we need.

the hours spent in the theatre
must alter time, change
our perception

bring us
      to the threshold of
apocalypse at the
                  insane spectacle

such as

          is in flood across

the airwaves
.
as is presented here

BETWEEN EXTREMES

BETWEEN EXTREMES get twisted by the cynicism blown away by the naked irony throws me this way and that up and down the human spectrum and yes I can do Socrates can do Atilla can do St Francis and do Genghis Kham in my genes I am both Norman Viking and Catholic martyr every word here part of that inner negotiation solution plotted in the dialectic and reconcilation between extremes between extremes