SAME
found myself Christmasing
in the House of Led Zeppelin
my younger brother
having usurped my rock influences
and extended them beyond
my wildest imaginings
every page in the library here
resounds to Jimmy Page
guitar pyrotechnics
remember this solo, this lick,
this riff?
am cluster bombarded
with questions where I could not
be further from answering
seems like
from Tangiers to Birmingham
to Kashmir
the song is forever changing
only in the most abstract sense
ever
remains the same
LIKE A
was
light years ahead
and now
I am dead
soul free to roam
in that dark space
ghost
music only
ghost poetry
voices, songs
Ginsberg, McGough, Henri,
Patten,
Ferlinghetti, Corso,
the Beatles,
Hendrix, Cream
and the Rolling Stones
SYNCH
“there is no try”
Yoda, The Empire
Strikes Back
should try to
hammer it into
my head
not to worry
what you think
take this
as it is
me
as I am
this my style, that
your style
maybe here’s where
they can
blend
dance in
synch
do much more
than co-exist
WHAT MAKES
what makes
a poem
Shakespearean?
I was asked
the je ne sais quoi
signature
of the bard
indeed
hard to replicate
if you are
thing digital
disembodied
intelligence
binary being
some residue still
mechanical I warrant
no matter how polished
(like reflective
sculpted metal)
the lark-like artifice
with
which you sing
what
makes a poem
human
hold
that thought
set play
to pause
stuff in my answer
I still need to dream
SPELL
strength loves beauty
beauty
loves strength
gold, silver
hard and fast law of attraction
hard truth
soft reception
for better or for worse will be
forever mirroring each other can
never break that spell
TROY STORY
am
a reporter on the scene
at the siege
of Troy
rushing for a scoop, meet
my deadline
ask ancient poet
Homer what he saw
in such
vivid
inner colours
SCRABBLE DABBLE
my brain
is a scrabble set
juggle roles, identities
am after a triple word score
tire
tier
year of the tiger
hit something
good on that
abacus and so
masc and fem mars
and venussing together
dance
of conjunction
in alignment
about to go full
elastic band
slingshot projection
time gravity bending me
to their will
true trajectory
whispering your name
SHUFFLE
poem
could love
but poem
is scar tissue
contagious
in the extreme
it shuffles up
brushes against me
ruffles reality
pretends to a
slick wisdom
passes on things
you would not believe
except
you are a reader
and so you do
SUDDENLY SLAVOJ
let us
delineate
four square address
the issue of morpholog
no prefix suffix
juicy bits
sexual punning innuendo
flyby Uranus
double-.entendre allowed
unless, somehow,
by some miracle,
the crude oil of
laughter might
heal
solder the spirit along
its split seam
this I believe
the crude position of
Aristophanes as
adumbrated to the dinner
guests the evening
of the symposium
before he got so alcoholic rhapsodic
did an Icarus
just fell down
gross guffaws of great philosopy
(looking at
you Professor Zizek)
helping us
spin with the world
as it goes round and round
MERELY
chill!
it’s just
a poem
will go
the way of all things
not as if
in this or other simulation
you are playing white
against a dozen black mambas
or
at thirty seconds
trying to out-think, out-run
scorpions galore
outpoint everything that
threatens to make a meal of you
get out of jail
stairway yourself to
Heaven free
over the chaos of life
exercise
sole monopoly
so
chill!
just chill!
it’s just a poem, merely,
will get recycled
we all
get recycled
is the very nature
of the game
poems 2 die for