OLD EMBASSY was sleeping in the old Soviet Embassy dreaming of you naked crashing through the wall driving a Sorbonne student, Paris Commune best May Day Parade tank a T-68 I believe, though I stand to be corrected the crumbly modernist structure recoiling under impact looking for all the world on the threshold of collapse and then we made love, parted left the bullding in swopped Che T-shirts swearing undying Comitern Pact exchanging best childhood Cold War finger on the button scary memories such as that ancient Castro Cuban missile crisis alarms blaring holding hands in fear but much secret juvenile love fascination beneath the impenetrable shelter of my school desk
Tag Archives: poem
PARABLE
PARABLE
love once
talked in this place
hard as it is
now
to believe it
holy city on the hill
awash with blood
fallen
to soldiers of
Empire
its legions;
its cruaders
and oh
now through the wire
I hear violins, hear
house music
hear Oompah Bands
see Willie Wonka take
Roger Waters on
a tour
of his factory
pointing out the safety
features, hotly
denying
that this rich sweet
chocolate has anything
about it
remotely intetesting
to cannibals
as he suffers not the children
and the world can attest
to every
delight he deals
love once walked
in this
place
born in bombarded Bethlehem
since
synthesized, appropriated
so much our shame
this love
once
here
in this place
SHAPESHIFT
SHAPESHIFT Jung saw it archetype before his eyes come alive from light to darkness we can all shapeshift learn so much from shadow so much from the light carry that darkness as deep memory inflicted upon it ss always shapeshifting its essence into imagined gods creatures of pure archetype absolutely mistaken, basking in the horror of our own darkness so convinced they own the light are very embodiment of the light true terror of which no one can describe
CHOMP
CHOMP chomp down on it it is double dilemma an aporia, an agon a philosophical problem one that needs a solution to the power of an Einstein, Spinoza, Chomsky and soon soon soon before we run out of blood
EARTH SIGN
EARTH SIGN you came to visit me on the farm we made love: ample bodies, tiny bed force of gravity alone I thought we wers joutneying to the centre of the Earth cries- crossing its equaror navigating its circumference twenty thousand leagues in the tiniest boat
M
M have alwayd loved you from the first moment I saw you all those years ago I loved you despite the impossibility but now to see you defending the indefensible speaking the unspeakable I no longer know what love is do not know if there can be love anymore
NEUTRON
NEUTRON call us criminals animals politically satanic but we not locked into your logic of extermination need a translation open to psychoanalytic interpretation all we begging for is regime change in what passes for brain in what passes for a head something in there beyond our consciousness beyomd simple humanity avatar of death star neutron gravity variety
NO SOONER
NO SOONER
no sooner had it landed
on your desk
than you take
to task our rainbowness
ascribe
all sorts of outlandish
bizarre
motivations
showing how
far we are in our thinking
from the holy logic
you
invoke in
the destruction of mankind
JY WEET MOS
OLD JOHANNESBURG
OLD JOHANNESBURG
waiting by the roadside
in old
Johannesburg
maybe
resurrection
will
befall me
maybe redemption
will come my way
failing which
perhaps
a circus or carnival will
come
round the corner
sweep
stubborn old ideologies
off the street
as serious joke or
perhaps just giggles
a parade of Zizeks
tumbling past me as if
Red Square
comedy
where figures from the
Commedia del Arte
are here
to replace tanks
look
seriously at the world and
it suddenly goes
Toy Town
confirmation bias
on open display for
everyone to see
fat
conspiracy here:
buses passing every few minutes
not stopping for everything
the drivers
believe
waiting for the curtains to open
waiting for the means
transport a boardgame
on my back
set
of lewd Cluedo
for whomsoever might
wish
to join me
help me
to survive
life on a billiard sphere
hustling to get by
wanting to be Master
always
a slave
waiting for the lights
to darken
have
lost the book
in which
I was made
****
after a
while
everything
slithers
snakes and
ladders
perhaps better to
devote time
to generating boardgames
rather than
squandering my existence
writing
poetry or composing fiction
****
bumper to bumper stacked together
owe it to them
to not close my eyes,
keep looking
or everything before me
will disappear
and this funeral procession
miss its target
some poor
exclusive dignitary
about to skip his rendezvous
with captivating tombstone
of proportions extreme
so much here
so mechanical
yet so many
vital nuts and bolts
****
bureaucracy
is horror
bureaucracy
is death
I sat with
Slavoj Zizek
through yet another sunset
telling jokes
about philosophers
telling jokes and
the end of the Universe
(not that this necessarily
implies a causal connection)
today the lawyers
of old and new Johannesburg
are
heading North
with a holy bone to pick.
I sat by the roadside
play after play
oodles of
words, scenes,
dialogue
even
still in my head
ghosts of tales
still
to be told
(media marvels yet
to unfold)
old Johannesburg
poems 2 die for 