VILLAGE TALK

VILLAGE TALK

It came as some surprise I can tell you, when I found out I had won
a nuclear ballistic missile, as well as well as a single-person euthanasia machine.

The government wished to prevent me from taking delivery of the missile,  which included its multiple warheads,targeting system and storage system, since they are signatories to the United Nations’ Treaty of nuclear non-prolifération. They also frowned upon the delivery of the euthanasia machine, since the right to euthanasia is not approved of legally.

Nevertheless, there was much excitement in the small village where I live, when the competition’s sponsors, together with nuclear armaments manufacturer delivered and installed the missile. Less interest was shown with regard to the delivery of the euthanasia machine, which is understandable.

Soon neighbours and people across the village were telling me which country or population group it might be good to ‘take out”. Similarly there was no lack of suggestions as to who we might wish to euthanize or try to persuade that euthanasia was on their vital interest or simply their best option.

My humble opinion, being a very spiritual person, is that we should only offer euthanasia to those who are terminally sick, in constant pain and beyond cure. It does not provide a suitable answer to clinical depression even in a world as divided, fragmented, greedy, selfish and cruel as our own.

As for the missile, let us put to one side the fact that the village becoming a nuclear power and thus a global “player” politically raised questions of deterrence policy, alliances, early warning systems and protocols leading to the decision to launch. The standing joke was at every soccer game to check the ball before kickoff just to make sure it’s not the village nuclear football itself.

As for opportunities for “first fire”, the problem here is that in today’s world different nationalities, ethnic and cultural groups are much intermixed and thus cannot be said to present a “clean” target. Especially since the missile’s thunderous explosive power stands at a hundred megatons for each of its seven warheads. Such a bang is bound to devastate and irradiates a pretty huge target area, eradicating victims by the hundreds of thousands pretty indiscriminately.

That is why I came to the sad realisation I had to decline from using it on personal enemies to defend my own integrity and to take massive revenge for all that they have done to me. It saddens me to think that if actual nuclear war should break out they will be taking shelter in deep blast-proof bunkers inside some hollowed-out mountain. Sitting the whole thing out, the Earth and the future, as always, belonging to them.

As for the euthanasia machine, after careful consideration I have decided, and trust you will understand and forgive me, to reserve it for personal use. I do not think I have the right to decide who should live and who should die except when it comes to me myself.

KETTLE

KETTLE

the kettle
switched itself in
wanting to discover
something about
the physics
of hor water

and me,
not
to get too critical,

invariably in
hot water myself
and thus everything
surrounding me
that has me
penned in here,
likelyto go
off at
   a tangent,
reach boiling point
explode into metaphor

as
fire is my element
and elements
cannot be
destroyed just
changed, or replaced

feel myself combining over
issue of who has
what is needed, is eager
to give, to whom
of counter
inclination is
burning, bursting
with enthusiasm free and
eager to
give

or same, same,
weird as that sounds,
enough to take me way
past my
   threshhold, over
limit
   beyond containment itself

and so
I leave chains, splitting and
shredding, breed
such a kerfuffle

you, guiltless though
you might claim, bystander
though you might be

are simply
swept away, sucked
into my dance

know what it feels like
quintessence
      of Sun
to have
become

to have been
(if but for a moment)
the light
of a star

my kettle
my cauldron
my
    sweet devastation (we
secretly
seeded with)

all
you might ever
                     hope for
ultimately

scrawled here
on this backboard

board
black as
the Universe but
such an
elegant hand




SHINE

SHINE
“Speaking to me.
They wash and
tub and scrub.
Agenbite of inwit.”
     James Joyce, “Ulysses”

are you
warm

warm
inside

full
of insight?

agenbite
  got
your tongue?

cat-like your preen
sunlight making
your fur
(if you
had fur) warm
as toast

questions to ask
before quietus

perhaps it fades
perhaps it
annihilates in
a gathering of stars
on the pavement
in your own
backyard

too little light
but now
all the suns

thought it was a summit
but it was
the sum
of all spectacle