poem poetry – Page 7 – poems 2 die for

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

GALLERY

stumbled, bumbled
into the gallery

snooped around and then
it was I saw you thick
with the rest of your coterie

thought it was an artifact
or small item of sculpture
that you were fascinated by
that
had seduced you

but then I realized
classic metaphor —
was a genie
stoppered in an
ornate bottle no
cheap container for wine,
no not at all

so you were all acting so
superior, so artistically
enlightened
that I grabbed and
smashed the bottle

let that genie free
for they do suffer, do
tend to fall foul
of imprisonmenf
these magical
poets, artists, writers who
cannot help but
display
as altogether different
quasi spiritual and
supernatural beings

and thus
my special wish
and emerging friendship

as we
made our way together
out of the building

laughing at
the poetic justice

how wonderful it is
when it
just so happens

as they battle with the thought
of eternal confinement

at least
they have so much
time (if not
space) for
self-exploration

and a ready, captive audience,
for all that beautiful narcissism
compelled
to share