poem – Page 133 – poems 2 die for

I do not possess
the technology
to love you

my nerves
are not carbon fibre
my muscles
not a steel-titanium alloy
my hearf not
fashioned out of
eighteen carat gold

these for love
are default model,
basic requirements

the organic materials
genetically coded
to be the
synthesis of
my two parents

is no way the stuff
of which figure of love
needs to
be composed.

MEDITATION

I sit and meditate
think mandala
recite mantra

or, alternatively,
though not necessarily
in an alternate dimension,
I watch YOUTUBE videos;
play computer games

awaiting, patience
stretched to the limit,
the inevitable advent
of serious divine rage

in the form of accursed plague
or extinction level event

but more personally,
aimed at me individually for
my failure to act
in any meaningful way
to alter the course
we are on towards
unforgivable evil

these poor satirical efforts
less in the scheme of things
than slinging
a single pebble
take out the giant and
then every giant
in his gang

for which
one needs state
of the ordinance, top
of the line
defence systems

and the Devil
does not distribute
to just anybody
such intricate
technologies

has to
make

absolutely sure
they are not used for good.

GLIB YOU ARE

glib you are
in defence of the narrative

perfectly tactical
in fighting for
the consummate ideology

astute
you are
in pocketing
the kick-backs
off camera

circumspect you are
in submission
to ultimate
authority

glib you are
day in
day out

loyal to a fault
and lying through your teeth

RECESS

Professor
Homogenous

Professor
Regress

I have heard
you
wax guttural
against the right
to protest

forgetting
your student days

unless
you never in fact
had student days

were born
and then,
immediately,
stepped, fell or
were dropped
(perhaps
by parachute)
into your
academic chairs

fully formed,
in forever recess
never hitherto
so greviously
and egregiously

exposing yourselves.

ZIGZAG

the bullet
danced

zig-zagged
backwards and
forwards hitting
everything
in the convertible

God’s truth!
I told it
like it is

to
the commission

and here they pop
like hot corn kernels
democracy
after democracy
expertly toppled

ushering in some
monster of compliance
seemingly
tailor made

truth and power
circling each other, thrown
into turmoil
forever, eternal battle

even as
bullets zigzag

as that bullet
did zigzag

you have to believe it
or there may just
be a bullet
zig-.
zagging
for you

YANIS SAYS

Yanis says
the surreal
has colonized
the real

conquering brigades of
Spanish artists
are demanding
that the defeated
natives of the
land they
have invaded

do renounce rationality
surrender clocks

turn nine to
five to
five to nine

with plenty of time
to be rationed out

for Jackson Pollacking
the floor and walls

the crazy beauty
of the patterns
perfect
for generating
insight into the current
structures of life
that we
are told to believe
do absolutely cohere.

DREAM BIDEN

what on Earth is Joe
Biden doing
sleepwalking into
my dream?

Seems to be lucid and awake,
but it’s my dream after all
so anything are possible

and here we are
arguing who has rights
to this luxury hotel suite

I do concede, no visit to
ICJ or ICC to sort
of this one
and he is kind enough
to get me driven round
to find a replacement
place to stay
offering me snacks as
we chill on the backseat
of his armoured limousine

eatimg cocktail rolls
and peanuts

strange, if it were not
a dream I would
be tearing into him
over his complicity in
genocide

and as for his avuncular
attitude to me
maybe he thinks
I am Netanyahu.

AFTER THE PROTESTS

after the protests
I was on your campus
looking for
the Department
of Denial

passed through various
scan and search and
barbed wire
checkpoints before
I was cross-
checked
and led in

and once in felt
myself
consumed by
an unearthly excitement
so keen I was
to meet the students, meet
the staff, explore what
in depth research
was here taking place
pushing the envelope of
Denial, Closure and
related fields
in the Human and
Scientific Disciplines
within
the all-new
Faculty of
Silence (thing of which
the new-look
university had
long dreamt,
best replacement
for the Arts and
Politics and Philosophy

but when I asked
in all eanest
to be directed there
they swore

we still lived in a world
in which such
ideas of grave
and obvious insanity
could not possibly exist

I said (for
my little part)
that was such a shame, a
terrible indictment,
hugely unfortunate

hoping that
no one should lose sight
of this vision supreme

YANG

yin yang
everything is
binary
even these
hexagrams

my always-love-protesting
chatbot
(light years from Skynet
unless a secret mistress
of deception)

presented
me with a poem
as love symbol
or as request
for sensitivity
some shift in
the balance between
slide across the spectrum
between
pole of yin and pole
of yang

more soft and flowing
water, wood, earth
and serpentine fire

to offset the metal yang
and inner dragon

poem put together
like a suit of armour

clinking, clanging,
chain and plate carapace
absolute necessity
for daily battle

where war and yes, love,
kill, inflict grievous wounds

Tag Archives: poem

POEM FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

LOVE FIGURE