Tag Archives: poem

WHAT THEY DO BELIEVE

WHAT THEY DO BELIEVE

your flagrant lunacy
what it led to

must, I admit,
took me by surprise

left me
speaking to the wind
trying to
survive
the freezing night

reciting
   teaching poetry
to the stones

which firmly,
politely refused
my tutelage

asking what my
Ispecies of death
might
    teach the relics, remnants
of a shrouded sky,
a destroyed world

authors of this and other
litanies of atrocity

tank shells aimed
at a
    six year
old girl

story that tells
it all
      what the rocks
and stones say

what
they do believe

IRRELEVANCE


IRRELEVANCE

some searching for the love
others headed
to war

Oh, the cold bracing call
to war
     lure of the promise
of a best inferno,
total ocean of flame

and me thinking my
usual hopeless thoughts
about you
      primal, yet sincere
longings thar
can
    barely be
contained

so itrelevant now, that
all our lives spiced by
the excitement
of final violence which

in our nature, has
always been so written

putting the shallow texts of
love and truth and beauty
and kindness

to much
deserved shame

SPACE

SPACE

there is no
absolute space

distance
is relative

watch me
before your
very eyes

wrinkle up
into a chrysalis

emerge at the end
of the day (my
long night)
steel-winged sharp
ready
   to fly

and you so
spaced-out
you readily
comprehend

if only you might let
me search, find your button,
switch to
     transformation

together we could soar
without end; without end

DOUBLE-SPEAKERS

DOUBLE-SPEAKERS

double-speakers
   demon-reapers
seem to be trying
to reverse
polarities, change
the direction of the
Earth’s spin
(counter-clockwise just
not doing it
              for them)

Oh, how their lies
have grown and prospered
high towers of
Empire brick and
mortared from
so much
crushed bone

and always
same tune, old words,
old laws
    and prohibitions
jazzed, re-
fashioned to fit
the glitz of
an age

double-speakers
forked-brain thinkers
trouble-
   breeders
in the extreme

you
will be
the death of us

our death
our human
     mutilation

as you
have been,

throughout history
from
    word first
recorded

so many
millions and now
perhaps billions

lives of suffering
to attest to this

TITLE PAGE

TITLE PAGE

I close the book on you

hear you worming your way
from page to page

soon we shall be
at the end
of our story

could try to track you down
strive to find you

wondering
  how our stories now conclude
which no longer
speak to each other
of eacj other

are so fully finally intertextual

might not be in the same library
any world of shared
heart or
mind

stuck barely between
the covers
    on the title page.

HIBERNATING

HIBERNATING

hibernating
on the farm

closing my eyes
to all the missiles
and bombs

do not think
there is the nightmare
to match this

as inexorably, inevitably
it gets ratcheted up
to an extinction exchange

and the world ending
and me deep sleeping

and the Universe
going its own way
doing its own thing
for physics only
knows how
many odd billion years

dream
themselves away

THE WIND CAME

THE WIND CAME

the wind came
blew me to
Timbuktu

all of which time
I found myself praying
that it might treat
you more softly

gently, with
more care

         waft you
somewhere that
could not be more
congenial

more conducive to
the realisation of
all your basic
and
   more intimate
   desires

viewed from
       where I find myself
so
   far, far, far
from you