DIAMOND

DIAMOND

I write
thinly-veiled
stories of my life

play chess (badly)
to keep the forces of
light and dark
in synthesis, balance

look out at the stars
each a solar
nuclear furnace

and wonder
about gold and silver
dark energy, anti-
matter

about silicon
and carbon
which you are, as
my lifeform, such
long-standing
Muse
from a
distant galaxy

asking me
to cross fifty light years to
come visit

carbon compound
you are

compressed
to diamond

MORE

MORE

at once
a suffering and
a fufillment

at once
ink and psint
and canvas
and wood

but
also blood

fast raw red arterial
but black where
death has
already infested

out in the heat, the cold,
across every extreme
I see you slaving
   trying to bring
to state of
truth and beauty.
some murderous,
             killing idea

there where the ice is
point at which
some
   gas freezes, there
where flame can
easily smelt steel

maybe you should shred
smash crush
     all that tortured you,
so altered you
    by way of
acceptance and repentance

but she, the Muse,
has got her sting and fangs
and claws
     deep into you

tells you
there is more, you
                         know there
is
    still more
   

HITHER

HITHER

I wandered through poetry
thought I knew
this place
well

looking for wisdom
looking for humanity

my outlook by
no means negative
      though by no means
expecting
wonders
        miracles, transformation,
soul-shaping
life-
defining metaphors
and sadly I must add
conceding
   no possible hope
for love

which is exactly where I found you
    chatting to my Muse
(why is
   Muse never lover?)

man
     most well-measured
not a syllable out if place
but your
voice
      your voice

I do not hear
       perhaps it is just too
comfort-zone, risk
averse

   agrophobic
when it comes to

to the beyond, the boundless,
our freedom
           in a nutshell

shattering it to smithereens
with the force of
poetic pressure

and perhaps
     the poet too

perhaps
we should stay contained
work like
jewellers do
in miniature

for this is a dangerous age
bad time
      for words

and I, for my sins and
pretensions of
truly sinning

have wandered so far
of course, too
far away            thus
with
    grace

let me leave
             you here

for who
would now come hither?