BARELY A WHISPER
the point at which
Policy
becomes
atrocity
first stage in
our ever-evolving
human hypocrisy
barely a whisper
from usual suspects, ink-
soaked saints
as we
hit stage the second
find atrocity
at prayer
hear its pleas for
the salvation of
total indemnity
often with barely
a whimper of regret at all
FLYING HIGH
flying high
and beautiful
yet
drifting side to side
bouncing up
and dead
the flag of hypocrisy
beloved by power
false,
changing its
colours as you look
perfect
for supreme deception
THEN
can see now
why you were
so quick
to do him
in
then immediately deify
deny his
flesh
and blood reality
make him
the most sacred being
has ever been
stands to reason
none of us
want any
of us
getting too
close asking
him questions
about shared
human experience
AND VANITY PRESS
I am
all about death
and vanity
press
this i
(readily) confess
to
both
woman
and
God
the chimes
in my head
both essence
of poetry
but also
cash register
and so I write
of holocaust and genocide
things that
lately delight
if not
why so tiny effort, huge
reluctance
to stop
doing so?
the sound effects of
slaughter
so much
one can do with them
LINE
you drew a line
said this is
the law, the rule,
the commandment,
the ordinance,
the regulation
suddenly
no sooner had
you signed off
than the line curved
bent multiplied
wriggled all
over
the page
my page
not yours;
on your still a single line
plain as day
cutting across the page
East to West
right to
left
dividing everything
North South
into two
unequal
hemispheres
you drew a line
for all time
OF THE AGE lies live lies survive lies fly all over the place so much destruction in their wake their instinct being to replicate split like mutant cells divide and be careful how you yourself do define for here service to the lie loses the light goes completely blind for shadow has shown too easy it be to mistake the love of a death embrace become the thing we fear we hate the beautiful hypocrite of the age the lie in us so consummate
SO SURREAL
O (for black hole)
it has become so surreal
so much
tunneled under I no
longer feel the ground
to be
safe
under my feet
no place to shelter
no place to hide
they sow fire and death
from above, supersonic vampires
(must give our
instant mistrust to
mythology
of eagle)
so
messed up and mixed
the blood that God (so you
tell me)
wants
to keep apart
churned together so thick
and who can
demarcate, who can divide
madness from reason, demonic
from divine
Heaven from Hell?
and you don’t
have to read up on rapture
to know we are
in Hell
except that place is pure evil,
unmitigated by
this stupidity
that we
see all around us, bombarding us
from all screens
definitve of humanity (no not
science
or philosophy)
and there are
chasing the white rabbit
wondering why
no sign of Oz
just bad stand up politicians
so horrible at comedy
should say
truly terrible
and leave it at that
O for black hole
(this Universe not going well)
poems 2 die for