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
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
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
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
DRIZZLE
drizzle
pizzle
puzzle
pustule
pestle
Manna
from Heaven
and Job
crying out over
the bodies
of his children
all bone and skin
and broken clockwork
knows
that all will be restored
all that is suffered
is there
to be redeemed
APOLOGIA (POUR LE
KAMPFWAGEN)
sorry for
pissing
down
the barrel
of your tank
it is a beautiful tank,
let me
be the first
to admit it:
caterpillar tracks
reverse
forward gears
reactive
armour
(or do you
call it “armor”?)
so beautiful
so precise
I do
not, did not
wish to deride
just mar
its beauty
sully
it forever
least I can do
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
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
HALF
these are two
selves
mirror dark
mirror light
mirror day
mirror night
they are
fighting for control
fighting
for your soul
tearing you
down the middle
winner to be
the one
with the bigger bloody
torn off half
COUPLED
be careful
what you
wish for
imagination
coupled
with
distance
is such
a killer
the creature of
my dreams
was
so different
strange, alluring
utterly unique and
exotic
sadly
she is
light years distant
in space
and time
her species across
the galaxy on a
distant
epic planet
however
you do spin it,
her species not having
begun to
truly evolve yet
at least in a direction
I would extremely like
poems 2 die for