WHATEVER
it is all
whatever
light
and shadow
you could write a poem
close your eyes
and die
find the God-particle that
explains eveything all those conundrums
solved, no more questions
to ask
just do the Maths
or have coitus with one
of us to put
you in the frame of mind
you
in spiritual communion
with the Universe
and suddenly nothingness
is not the shock horror you let yourself
be led into
making it out to be
ANTS
enough of your antics
you
so-called politicians
most partisan of people
let the ants decide
the future of our planet
so many many
more of them
and one
creature
one vote
is that not what
democracy is supposed
to be
all about
the thing elites fear, historically
from Plato to
Nero and Caligula
and every
evil regime of brothers
no ants they got a matriarchy
and I’m sure their Queen
will be cool
with whatever saves
the day
averts the death of
our shared
blue
planet
(Janet)
before it goes like Venus
goes like Mars
atmosphere like
black lagoon
or none at all
full rocky horror
so no more fiddling
identity cards, restricted polls
delimitation, boundaries,
every
outright illegal attempt
to gerrymander the system
give the ants the vote
give it to
every creature
can’t
do worse than we
have done
no time for legal
linguistic quibbles
time we
turned partisan
into
“partisant”
(show this world, this Universe
what this species
is all about
narcissistically thought
to be
a Divine image)
DAB HAND
if a hand, or perhaps
a whole arm (left
or right)
appeared out of nowhere
for a friendly shake
would you shun all
contact? would
you comply
for ghostly, spectral hands
are not
what they were
are
by no means as
friendly as
their original intent
no means as transparent,
trustworthy
free of malice by
accident
malice by
demonic purpose
set to realize the darkest
unconscious dreams,
fantasies and
nightmares
of that wonderfully charitable
circumspect
and spiritually endearing
soul
of Man
SHADOW
I am so pared down
pear
for me is fruit
of duality
what a pair! (derision, vouce of
so-called social standards)
what a pair! (voice of crude
sexual appreciation, titillation)
my Mum and me
were a true pair (I do
not lie
I have seen the pictures)
I have divorced
myself
from her memory
for reasons I cannot possibly
possibly divulge here
but is this separation by
paradox not our great
communal experience
tragically
connected in that
we are all
so separate, all so
alone
and in the end
all we were is just shadow
shadow
but even shadow can
blemd, pool
I am shadow so separate
I have gone already
shadow and self
only unity there
can ever be
NAMED
Lovecraft
Strangelove
have to got to
love the
love
embodied
in your thinking
enshrined
in your very names
ROULETTE
Do not confuse
redemption
and
civilization
so easy
to transpose
and though
evil be banal
there is nothing
to preclude
an elegance
to murder
brining out the
choice caviar
and a polished chrome
pistol
for Russian roulette.
DISTANCE
distance between our
first and
last civilizations
just a blink of an eye
who knows how many
thousands
and thousands
of years
such difference between their
long lost world
and ours so
clearly in decline
on its way out
we lacking the magic
of their wisdom, smarts
and
pure technology
PRAYER
I pray this poem
does not degenerate
before you reach
the final stanza
thanks to physical decay
or cultural decline
the power of poet
and poetry slipping together
ironically,
the only true synchrony
in this
disjunction of a
life
FIELD
find me in the quantum
vacuum
for if you do not, if
you fail to
then I will find you
will watch as you count your
store of hours, minutes, days
getting spent
blowing kiss after kiss
to blur, to spoil,
cloud that mentality
of linear trajectory
and when the light comes
wave after wave like
warm sea washing over you
know that it is I
who once was something
different entirely
know that it is I
realize it is
me
soft surge of
energies can
cannot be
SOMETHING
something there
is that wants to
get in through my doors
get in
through my windows
drag me before a mirror
make a blood bath of
my resignation
iron
on iron
sharpening
massacre my comfort zone
lead me out through
the jagged glass
into dark pastures
where the Earth has
opened up
is truly volcanic
and my house, once so
safe and secure, boarded
and guarded
is now a thing that
can scarcely be regarded more
than a gutted shell
poems 2 die for