Tag Archives: poem poetry

DEEP

DEEP

escalator
went up

     up
   up
up

forward
reverse

it’s axiomatic
elevator went
down

down down down

skipping circles
of good

ploughing
through axes of evil

down through
every cellar, basement,
bunker
ever built

through the deepest
mine of all
on the
golden
Witwatersrand reef

deeper than a anything
that ever went
China Syndrome

deep and
deeper still

never to bottom out

WHEN MARCUS CRASSUS

WHEN MARCUS CRASSUS

when Marcus Crassus
died in battle
everybody wept
the grief
shook Rome

the whole
city consumed
by sadness

slaves being tortured
prisoners crucified

took time
out of their suffering
to make sure
they found time
to weep

gangs patrolling the Subura
to ensure there
would not
be a single
soul
failing to
feel heartbroken

for if the gods
could not fail to be
grief stricken
how not
mere mortals?

so tragic that one
so rich and powerfully
should be put
to death so aptly
suffer
    so horribly

so wrongful a vengeance
so totally
beyond the pale
of social justice

COSMOLOGY

COSMOLOGY

a magical alluring mystery
spectacle

almosr too far away
for light to travel

your dance of seven veils
alluding
       to our source tempting
our return
.
and me in the back row
with much undersized telescope
longing for the front row
a window seat
    somewhere close relatively
speaking
  where at least I feel I
can reach out and touch

this routine so exactly
choreographed, yet primal
and chaotic
     is thing you have wanted
me to witness
for billions
      of yesrs

but the laws that say I am
a bit underaged to be
witnessing this
     let alone understand it

tell you that
        your moves are slowing
getting stretched out
breaking
        dissolving

and this I can see
hear explained by
cosmic dude on
           my cellphone (Cox,
Greene, Kaku, Hawking or Tyson)

time will come
when you have Medusaed
yourself
     are iron cold and
a statute

and me, as
for me

long long before then
will have deserted the scene
me and my
world well
        out of popcorn

this great gorgeous
cinema a thing
       of the past (though
no future or past)
    

TEAPOT

TEAPOT

below
everybody’s radar

a fabulous world
bunkering
at the bottom
of your
white rabbit hole

and
after a divinity of
fine tea in the
arms of such company

time to reset
boot up
    swipe
delete any virus
inconvenient program

waiting for
the bus of old age
who on Earth is
going to believe your story

the jury out
on whether the bus has
been missed, is late,
can
   be said to exist

that debate
still raging, if ever
so quietly,

the luxury of it all
every tea set fully furnished,
expertly laundered

no future as monolithic
on the horizon, on
any horizon, as that
presents us as star child

not wishing to moonshine you
Cheshire Cat or Caterpillar you

you my dear girl
        captured in this selfie
under the hat you
borrowed from
that mad
fellow

nothing in your sharp mind
going to change the heavy
metals in
    his system to
                     gold

who single-
handedly threw
tea pot into unknown
postal district
     this saucer into whole
new big bang aggrendisment
lurking in
galaxy not up
to us
to speak about

WHEN IT KILLS

WHEN IT KILLS

“As with many tragedies, our story opens in a moment of triumph.”

Dan Jones, The Wars of the Roses: The Fall of the Plantagenets and the Rise of the Tudors

Now we
see

how deep indeed
this story goes

how sure
the colour
in the rose

of itself
in every detail

its thorns
the truth
    of its beauty’s cruelty

the colour
fixed on absolute
when
    it kills.

TRADE SURPLUS

TRADE SURPLUS

shut up with
this stupidity

are you grooving
into an epoch of
mental deficiency?

just because it is
the sublime will of money
the rapture of
self-serving power

when I see you
talking your processed
speech

I wonder how much
in the way of steel pins
for your face
brass screws
for your teeth

when they resolved
that you should
trade
      your humanity
rent out your heart