Tag Archives: poem

A BONE TO PICK

A BONE TO PICK

what you said
on TV months early
if not sanctimoniously
then with astonishing conviction

I sat on your front lawn
my campfellows battling
to resurrect children
fitting mashed
body parts together

I sat there Googling
desperately for
a technology of salvation

when the ghosts of those
slain when you made
your case
that for reasons of
defensive measure
the slaughter
must continue

marched up silently
to your front door
informing you
ever so
ever so
politely

that if
could spare the time
they did indeed
have a bone
to pick with you

ZADIE (3)

ZADIE (3)

Oh Zadie
your words
hurt me

I was wandering
along the periphery
eating an onion
gifted me
by Roland Barthes

when
I overhead a word
that hit me with
all its 50 megatons

and so, I had no option,
but to
    take it to heart

which
    would have killed me
had not realised,
it was
not
   actually a bullet
and only like a bomb
by virtue
of
   analogy
a prime (should I say
“primed”) example of
metaphoric
thinking

and I rose
to go on
my way

fight again another day

but then another bullet
hit me, though
you may say
I just walked into
                        it

but luckily, was
a recent arrival, via
plucky trade

a miracle, God be praised!,
and I was saved

its manufacture British

Oh Zadie your
barrage, blast, MG-42 spray

so totally
nailed my argument.

POLICE BE

POLICE BE

police be
a reality

peace
uphold
the vanity

steamroll through
happy metaphor
such as
carnival
of Peace

cracking heads
breaking ribs
the like it when
you go
     crunchy
(much prefer
to smooth)

came in ranks
came in files
along
   the flanks

a navy blue line
many navy blue lines
that
   in storming
the stairs

fell
  out of step, became
Mongol horde
become
throwback
sheriff and
all those deputies
Bob Marley missed

rowdy, bouncy,
sad that
     there have
to be prisoners

their mission, God-given,
all about nipping whatsoever
with
  measure
of violence
in the bud

HIND

HIND

your last moments
how
   can we forget them
ever forget
them

now they are
seared into us
like
  a cannon flash

and we
      here promise you
little angel
to clear the world of this evil
make it safe
from
   the power that is
death and deaths
league
of demons

let us return
its agents
back to the dust
from whence they came

naming
the darkest places in
the human heart
after them

placing them
in the innermost circle
of the forever Hell
that
   is satanic mind

OUTSIDE YOUR TEMPLE

OUTSIDE YOUR TEMPLE

that line from Robbie Williams
about talking to God
floating
   through my brain

woke up
and suddenly found I had
strayed into your
encampment

masquerading as sort-of
poet, philosopher,
lover of Zen
and all bladed weapons

watching you agog
amazed: every
action small
and large, every word
both long
and short
a telling truth to power

something about
the semiotics here, though,
a red, red flag
to tormented souls

skewered by the fatal ironies
of such massive, cosmic,
toxic contradictions

their Empire
a prison
from which they
cannot, dare not,
refuse to
        don’t know
haven’t the faintest idea
how to escape

this dream world best
world
   worst of
        all possible worlds

****
and here
  is a figure too, West Coast
Italian in
robe soiled and tattered
barefoot, perhaps

those feet
not having seen water since
the Pope kissed those toes

crosses in
   front of me, of
pure
holy squalor our
most iconic figure

a figure
     so joyous

hard not
to hazard a guess as
to who he
      just has to be

****

the police are here
in riot gear
they

have their
orders

they

beg
   to differ

what happens from hereon
in

is scripted

like a victim selection
bombing program

it was authored by machine