poem – Page 110 – poems 2 die for

TWO POEMS (FLOOD; LUMINE)

FLOOD

poetry should
come
in flood

to be
any good

he said, this
bar room
brawler, boozer
of the word
did

and who am I
to pick
a fight with him

(what kind of
Charlie would I then be?)

and truth be told
hate the very
thought of once
more into
the rewriting, yet
more drafting

the thing with a mind to
resist, go
where it secretly insists,
be the
very soul
of entropy

and here we are
draft five, six, eight
or seven

express elevator down to Hell
it feels, no
stairwell to
melodic heaven

fast and furious
brain to paper

nothing lost
perfect tbirty seconds

and me, slaving away to
be
contrapuntal, speak
counter-
argument

wondering, dear reader,
dear reader

how so many of you
so so quick
to come
to snap judgement

make slick quick poetic love
to the smokey
soul of this man

who would not have
you touch the poem

until it
scresms at you

insisting
on birth
insisting on life

life on the line
down with an offer you
dare not refuse

****

LUMINE

you wound me
up like
a clockword

gave me
an extra turn

then pushed
me to the limit

harder a taskmastee
more cruel
in your tutelage
than Tarantino’s Pai Mei

but when
we broke that limit
my limit

brought me back
from a death

that bird sang a song
sweet fluting lyric that

touched
the firmament

DARKER TURN

when I die
condense all
I was
and now am

into a love poen
single, short, to the point

thing of night and dream
and moment when
all our darkness
all that
we are
of darkness
thrives, comes alive

knows
the bliss
of a star

when I die
turn me into
a love poem

short
and to the point
nothing special
of diamond, golden

thing in the heavens
like Romeo’s heart
speaking plainly

not
(as Juliet did envision)
beautifully scattered

and then
if I am read

(if you
are the one to read)

put
what did, what was

into some
forever parenthesis

just to say, remind me,
that I am
thing of absence,
thing of
the darkness now

this
small, petty life that
writes

being so
preoccupied with what it says
what said

took a
sweeter, darker turn

CAVE

by the time
news of the election
happened to reach me

it had aged, ten
twenty years

and I had
aged a thousand
so sarcastic thanks
due to Albert
opening this can of worms

despite the shock of relativity
the news
      was soggy with conjecture
about coalition
of the centre
   vaunted talk too of
government
of national unity        and
me so far
    out the frame, swinging
pitching
in left field

not boding well
my initial gut reaction, by
the time
I’d sussed the story
seemed
    all talk of rebirth, revision,
repentance and renewal
at every
   little individual, and
of course, the national level,
was perhaps
a tad
    too hopful, insanely premature

but this analysis killed
left me crippled, ancient

as old
as Plato

him stuck way back when
still dreaming of his
Republic of philosophy, hierarchy,
meritocracy

and me
totally
abstractrd
out of the picture

still hanging around,
       for better or forcworse

               somewhere
near the backwall of
his absurdly
over-estimated cave

***

TOYLAND

let me be abstract
let ne be
hypothetical

let me
not worry abouf ereor
let alome, Sin,
let me have the
algorithms not
to put a foot wrong

to vontinue of my given
track without regret,
remorseless but effortlessly

and when i come to
you in ths night
all exchange and interplay
a sturdy versitiliyy
aa per
every bell and whustle

by the numbers snuggle and
cuddle do all the fore
abd after
back and forward, prelude
and post

being in it for the long run
until we bust
a spring, spring
                  a leak
as
    is the case when
every little life
       scrioted by truth and
Scheme of perfection

finds, andxis ground down
in the forever coils of
the eternal
nemesis

which
goes by one name alone,
which nsme being love

the disastrr dreamt of
by every toy or machine

MATRIX GIRL

after the lecture
you sauntered up
to the podium

killer
question to ask
regarding “The Matrix”

raising the question
if it is all just a shared
computer hallucination
as in
the absurd
conceit of this most
resonsnt of films

for insrance:
if this be
desert of the real
why should my brain
be ready-progrsmned
to read you
as object of beauty

what god-like
creator disguised you
as Aphrodite herseof?

or let Aphrodite
use your disguise to get
immortally close
to me?

no doubt in
those flashing eyes some
sex semiotic flirting with
the spin of every
tiny molecuke connecting,
dividing across
the short space between us

helping her to do what
sublime digital avatars
supteme
goddesses do

and
me cauhht in her ruse, trapped
by her beauty

popping red pill blue pill
eveey shade
of purple

needing to see with these eyes
speak with this mouth

touch with each
             and every real finger
for the first,
very first
        cataclysmuc
         no-nonsense time

RED

sample size
economy size

government warning
on the box
telling me to
take care
what appears
on the pages

but me
I hot for it
got a handle on it

don’t give
a hoot
not a thought
about danger

don’t care about stops
drive free
of punctuation

before I am turned Ayrton
going to
paint myself
Ferrari

and red Ferrari too
mad red in colour

red-planeted myself
across ruthless
dimensions

into and through
(Event Horizon space
folding) the tough tesseract
that speaks itself
through
the two-dimensional surfaces
of Craig Raines home-
seeking postcard

and me
so well read, always
reading incessantly

took down (in a
single sitting) Silver Locusts,
Martian Chronicles and

Pynchons Von Braun rocket
rainbow

the flames
from the tail of that sucker
a sight to behold

if I say so myself, given
absolute and infinite
creative poetic licence

sample
size
economy
size

if I don’t
fit your paradigm
get with the program!

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