IN THE LIGHT OF DAY
so you
like genocide
best
keep it
to yourself
privately
you can fill me
in on
why you
like it
what’s so
good about it
which if all the great
historical genocides
is your
favourite
did the most
for you
all things considered
when all this
has blown
over
in the light of day
SHAME
I sought out
Shelley (great
political poet)
to help me
with my poem
had to battle my
way to the garden gate
and along the garden path
to avoid his wife’s
deadly creatures, Doctor
Frankenstein having
restored them
from thing called death
to thing called life
the latter, at this time,
for beings deemed inferior
infinitely preferable
in the minds of those
for whom they forever
constitue
a serious problem
life best reserved for
the good and the rich
and so, ushered in,
I did speak with
the great firebrand
asking of him, quite simply,
that he
do show me the way
to convert pen traversing paper
or fingers attacking keyboard
into a manner of address
designed to inspire
and, yes, shame
shame, shame
particularly that shame
that is due
for having no shame.
SOUL
I’ve had it
with these poets
gonna go
full Hannibal
gonna
go Buffalo Bill
gonna dig a deep
fat hole
in somebody’s
basement
give them
the hose
until
they stop
writing little
little little
all whisper and muffle
and sort of
sense tickle
until they surrender
to brutality
and show me
their soul
BUFFALO BILL HITS THE CIRCUS
was at the circus
but the tent fell
down
swamping poets,
academics
and other clowns
maybe the pole was broken
no way steadfast Shakespearean
perhaps
Nietzsche’s concept
of evil which
I did lately relate
offended every deity,
was tempting fate
a direct dereliction
of poetic duty
speaking of which
when those poets
copped it
not much, to use my TS
word should be
bewailed as
having been given
much
lilting solipsism there
sweetest narcissism
stuck in
their own heads:
what it
means to be
this sort of man
what it means to
be a woman
what poetry must
become in a Zuckerberged world
and
what magic deserted when
we got skinned
those bodies even more
dumb and devoid of stuff
no
magical coat for me thenn
GODS
great
we got our journalists
picking his pockets
tapping his phone
if we
get enough dirt
on him
can use our pages
to persuade him
not to
talk about kingship
stay away
from such plays
and that one
who would phosophize us
away
from our set and staid
and hegemonic ways
would
think us
inside out and
upside down
we got the video, had
it photoshopped, PR
refined smudge
and smear aligned
shows her at her worst she
could ever be (though
neither so
bad as you, or I) but
good
enough to bring
her down
any one who thinks (gender
aside) is
a worse-than-perverse-clown)
why
do they think themselves
above all who
think what
they are
told
why else this business? Why else
the rollers
roll
serving you your world up
on a plate, we tell it as
freedom but
we all know
its fate
you
are
what you are
and what
we designate
so
test us out
why don’t you?
just give it
a try
nothing we cannot belittle
nothing we cannot dare not
cut down to
basic size
who would have thought
crudity and super-
ficiality supreme
human virtues
who could ever have imagined
we couls write an all
new ten commandments
use all our
new-found political
pressure to
sell them
in the market before
entrusting them to God
you cannot challenge it
we are
perfectly set
in our mindset
lie
is truth
and
slimy and obese-
brained though we
may well be
beneath this tawdry
bleary mortal flesh
we are gods
we are gods
test our powers
you will come to believe
COPERNICAN SYSTEM REVISITED
tellers of tales
doctors of spin
can get smothered
strangled in
all that
yarn
this
how the world demands
we do not
turn
eschew
revolution
history freeze
take
everything as it
comes, it falls
without (us) and
out of the blue, within
MONSTERS
we expect
better of
our monsters
more
from them
we demand that
they be
fully
institionalized
but there again,
demand is perhaps
too strong
a word
we wake
but we
do not see
unfortunately
and thus cannot
but fail to notice
that we
fail
to notice
that in the mirror
everything is
reversed
not upside down, as
radical theory Zizeks
would have
us overthink it
just simply reversed
take a quick squizz
on your way
into the world
and you could be forgiven
for not thinking
the monster is there
poem from my 2014 collection: Zero Gravity
BY INCLINATION
how many
angels can
sit on
the point
of a needle?
how many demons
can turn
on a
dime?
to which super
ability
do
you incline?
GLUE, CHEWING GUM, STICKY TAPE
glue, chewing gum,
sticky tape
its so fragmented now
how do we
stick it all
back together
without trying
to condense and collaose
one truth, one tale, one
way, a
single narrative
rammed down throats
with incredible pressure
(have
to go to
Sci Fi horror classic for
best available metaphor)
glue, gum
sticky tape
liberal application of
extraterrestial acid
poems 2 die for