poem – Page 52 – poems 2 die for

WHAT A WAR IT WAS

what a war it was!
existential:
you alone, standing
against humanity

a brutal battle, which
Praised be God you won
with your
devilish déception
heavenly weapons and
sublime technology

annihilating everything extraneous
alien to
your big picture
outside
core prophecy

returning the species
back

to the Stone Age
those few straggling remnants
you suffered to survive

what a war it was!
down
     in the edicts
   since Cain
    first slew Abel
back at the blood dawn of time

PRAY CONTINUE

I am badly wounded
haemorrhaging everything

waiting for
your coup de grâce

drenched in blood
surrounded by
scraps and
pieces of what was
once humanity

bits of bone
embedded in the
brain-spattered altar
in this place of shelter

I am not quite dead yet
so pray continue

lest
I bear witness

still a mathematical possibility
I might survive

FOOL YOURSELF

don’t fool yourself
you are

not worth anything
not according to
this system
of reckoning

able to be given meaning
taken into
consideration
except perhaps
as casualty, as fatality,
statistic to be loaded into
collateral damage battle
assessment to
figure out the balance
of power
how our beautiful law
of attrition is
shaping up,
working out

how your slaughter night
be the absolute difference
between defeat
and victory

and
with victory
absolute vindication,
proof that we are fighting
on the side of God

ON THE WHOLE

Lovely eyes

but such
moral blindness

windows
to the soul

in your case
leading
nowhere,
.
unless
to abyss, hole

(tragic
on the whole)

PASSPORT

I lost my passport
to the land of atrocity

sadly, sadly,
so wanted to go
to internalize such evil

the kind which a single
eager-to-learn human being
needs
to take on board
in order to slaughter and
destroy
every person on the planet
wipe out the species
in pure, divine,
fully transcendental,
ultimate expression of
creative joy

KINDERGARTEN

sirens in the kindergarten
not for lunch
but as everything
beginning with
the letter B
is about to attack

some chuckle-face
throwing himself at Miss
asking good-naturedly

how do you spell “conventional”
how you write:
with the one
true God on our side, it is
with sadness and
profound regret
I have
just given the order
pressed the button
for nuclear attack

Miss,
face ashen,
wondering what, if anything,
will ever written again

SCRAPS

the spiritual ones
burnt the great libtary

came with their torches
under their god Emperor
a huge holy mob
blessed with the knowledge
of the splitting of
the atom

which art now lost
sadly forever never
again such
sublime
destructive power

all that remains of that
great wisdom, great
human
knowledge of
such apocalyptic potential

reduced to ash, molecules,
scraps

GUITAR

my telephone beeps
it does
not speak

it tells me
her message is here
was
holding my breath

but now
I can breathe

this is what she wrote
fingers that once
tippy-
toed now

dancing across
the keyboard
express
delivery

heart to
heart

(would those nimble
fingers were
here

plucking my strings
playing me like
a rock guitar)

HONEY

do not presume
to tell me
what
is forbidden

is the sky
forbidden?
the sea
the Sun
you

yourself
forbidden?

are all the things
in your book
of prescriptions
ultimately forbidden

what of honey
is that too,
forbidden

bees may sting
but the make it freely

as is the case
with honey, your honey

it is the sting
itself that makes it what it is
defines it as honey

and so please
before you
close the gates
shut
the hive
lay the mines
string the wire

as a matter of gentility do
tell me what is forbidden
point to
what is forbidden
in all this honey

that I might discover
taste
and judge

decide for myself

EDGE

edge is always brutal.
cutting
    like a blade
.
this we know, how
it has
   proved to be
.
in your history, my.
history
   all our history

the blood on our faces
our hands.
what we have to share

there, look see!, the cossr
and beyond the cost
the lie
of the land

let those voices speak
they have
to speak
can tell a tale of what was
said promised proclaimed
and how
that all panned out

those with the feathers
and those with the powder
fire
and with steel

those with feathers dead
lost
before the war began
.
and we who do
believe we
have studied violence from
when it
first began

have the calculus of slaughter
down to a fine srt

fear
not a people alive but
a people’s demons
rising
with their death

displacing our demons
ot teaching
them a darkness
we
cannot defend