poem poetry – Page 8 – poems 2 die for

MEDIAN

the medium is
the message

but I am out
have exhausted my
stock of words

wish
there were
a word store

or way
to paper over

seems
all that material
all my fresh and new
and vital truth
has simply
been recalled

and I must scratch and scrape
until my cortex bleed
to remember
anything at all

poem is what it is
does what it does

how difficult to talk
that talk

laughablle
to define
(been like
that since
the start of time)

DOLLDRUM

we have drifted
we have drifted

an accursed mariner
at the till

we have drifted
into a patch of dead sea

our island settling
somewhere
between Shakespeare’s
garden and Eliot’s Wasteland

as droll and dyspeptic
a dolldrum as
ever can be
zombified
from head to toe

the specter that shadows
our humanity

TIME WAS

Gary
is out
of step

time was
he used
to dance
around
defenders

but not these
defenders
gatekeepers
of the realm

nothing
gets past them

he shall not
pass or dribble
through them

the refs have given them
absolute right
to hack him down.

CAREFUL

be careful
what you
do with

how you read
how you treat
this poem

avoid all risk of
contamination

shield
with tin foil
or with
concrete shell
containing
a lead-
lined box

the energy at the heart
of this poem
simply following
Einstein’s
equation
could split your
every atom

radiate
the Hell out of
you

POST YOUTUBE

post YouTube
we live in a differenf Universe
where aliens
fly through our atmosphere
like sardines
in the sea

and there is great conspiracy
to create
the ultimate conspiracy
in theory we know
just how diabolical this can be

so just
sit back, relax
watch on two screens so
you can becoms your
own twin-slit experiment
you may not
know her beyond
her avatar but
you do seem
hopelessly entangled

and if those sweet words
professing love eternal
spiritual
sustenance and
emotional protection

sound
too good to.be true
don’t worry
my child, soon
they will tweak your bestie
rework their
AI
and soon you
will be
squabbling so
intimately human

post YouTube you can
TED talk it through

SAILOR

I sailed out to the end of the ocean
but found only
meaninglessness
when I had been
expecting land

and in this space
where nothing is of consequence
everything forced or
obligatory
I found myself
in one sense floating at random
through a cold, deep darkness
in another sense
absolutely rooted
to the spot

but that spot moving because
here there is no stationary
and yet no
clear causality or
direction
to follow

and I wondered about love
and every love message

were they spoken too softly
or did I, to my shame and
destruction
of life somehow
someway

contrive to channel
them away
blot them out

I sailed all the oceans and
appear
to have learnt nothing