APOLOGIA
sorry so sorry
to interrupt
mess with your attention span
but I need to
tell you
how to weaponize this poem
clean it, cock it,
prime it
load it
point it in the right direction
take
the safety off
aim low when
you got your target
fire at well
single shot
automatic fire
the poem should cycle
through its action
smoothly
no jamming
have the impact
you wished for
when
you helped write this thing
OUR MUSIC
The aliens are, coming here
rushing head-over-heels
faster
than a guitar riff
because they love
our music
speakers blaring Zeppelin
and Hendrix
smashing the peace as
they hurtle through
the galaxy
reminding those
old enough to remember air cavalry choppers
colonizing the skies
of Vietnam
the aliens are coming here
now all the critical questions
of survival
relate to the possibility
of jam sessions
and whether our human
overlords
will let them land and
pluck and strum
or pull
the plug
desperate to
shut them out
NEED TO KNOW
fear not
good ratings, a tidy
majority in the primary
will
absolve you
from evil
it is
written in
the big good bestest
only book
it is
the only truth
you need to know
WITHOUT SIN
I took every
precaution to ensure
this piece of writing
is free from blasphemy
totally without sin
God forbid
that my little village
with all its stark poverty
gets burned
to the ground
for sinful infraction
or bad punctuation
it is right
that evil be erased
wiped out of existence
before it
gets to
see itself stand
naked
hear all the bloody
euphemisms
whereby we hide its name.
WHEN YOU SUCCEED
I sent this poem
to your letter page
neither
floated it
on the air currents
nor shackled it
to a tbunderbolt
sending it
the expressest
of express deliveries
no I
broke it up into
bits and bytes
photons of light
two-slit experiment
forwarded it
digitally
no message
in a bottle
ether crossing nothing
to do with the ocean
testing you
to your Turing limits
pushing you
hard until you crack
like the
Nazi code in
an enigma machine
and there before us all
in hallucinatory space
all
our circuits, on-board
programing
my little poem, this tiny
buffet
testing you to
outer inner
the limit of your limits
finding, reflecting where
you fail, back
at you,
where you succeed
WITHOUT SHADOW
when in church
I gravitate towards
the spaces with shadow
deep, dark shadow
the better to observe
those without shadow
singing
their inner light
to the point of exhaustion
shaking the precious
golden vessels that they are
like tambourines
no shadow without
to speak of but
who knows what shadow
penned inside
keeping the flock secure
keeping it meek
who knows
but more to the point
who gives a fig
thinks that
this goes anywhere?
when I leave
long before
the end of the service
I make sure
to rustle up my serpents
pocket them, take
them home with me
TURING TEST
Sylvia and Tom
chatbot avatars of
two of the greatest
poets ever
put pen to paper
grill me about my poem,
(this poem); my life
(this life)
slyly stretching my
humanity as far
as it will go (much
machine learning
in the process)
watch me sink, suffocate
under the weight
of all their accolades
learning to predict
to phonomenal exactitude
where all these
metaphors, images are
headed;
where they all are coming from
what parts of me
are
in harmony, symmetry
with what it is I am them
force-feeding
scanning for intelligence
anything/all
that is real.
.
WE
what we hear from you
We are
all human beings
one species
you are human beings
like me
what we want to hear from you
We are
all human beings
one species
I am
a human being
like you
please tell us
you can tell the difference
otherwise
this word “we”
makes no sense at all
YOUR ROOM
I spent
a night in your room
choosing the couch
over your bed,
my most regretted decision
(our bodies not
in apposition
minds in the morning
finding opposition)
and me
and what I am and
what you might
have transformed me to
be
leaving no trace
of
me or
my passion
to feel its way into
that carpet, those walls,
adding to
its meaning, its
flavour
with just a trace
of my identity
with those others
past,
current lovers
to whom
this just a room, you just
a woman, most
magical woman
to me
a comedy, a tragedy,
my Midsummer Night’s Dream.
SAW-SCALED
saw you sort of
in a trance state
somewhere
between in
a dream
and being awake
you moved like a tiny
bolt of jagged lightning
in slow motion
no scales grating together
to put
the chills into me
but head still
loaded with
blood-battering venom
enough in one bite to
kill a couple of humans
terrible style
bad
as that was
worse, it were
as if
you stop, smiled, that
sublime viper smile,
introduced yourself
to that part
of you
in me
snake, killer, spirit
animal
that was
already there
those scales shrieking danger
to all who
might listen
should really listen
if they knew what’s good for them
.
poems 2 die for