UNDER

UNDER

I almost drowned
way back,
decades ago

survived (obviously)
but suffered
much water damage

took on
so much water
always drifting, never
an even keel

now
fear immersion, the very
thought of absorption

and here I am now
26 degrees East, 26 South,
before climate change,
incessant rain
it used
    to be semi-desert

trying to write a science fiction
tale
    about a human atomic
powered submarine
navigating a vast
unknown ocean, ocean
on an incredibly distant
alien planet
        not going anywhere but
got a title at least, that
being “Under”

writing it as a riff
on Verne’s 20,000 League
tale of
the Nautilus, whilst
exploring the mythology of
my Western and
Eastern
   astrological signs

almost drowned on
board a ship (whilst
the irony seems
exquisite, technically it
was the Atlantic
that came
for me
    and, after possible
divine intervention, simply
changed its mind

this
    on our way to a new land,
new home
my Father thought
best for us

beautiful country with
a dark, iniquitous history
about
   to get darker

and all
   through my life, Atlantic,
Indian, Benguela, Mozambique-
Agulhas

those waters
out to get me
        constantly out
to infiltrate, swim
through

my brain 
        having me respond in
ways to rational human
being can
comfortably respond

daring me
        to speak the truth
of coldness, darkness,
of the abyss

having me say things I
would not
let myself say

the text
of “Under” still not
finding its page.

STOP MOTION POEM/AMONGST THE EXPENDABLE/THE PAINT/IMPERATOR

STOP MOTION POEM

this is my
stop motion
animation poem

took thousands of shots
of the poem as it
unfolded in
the process
of writing it

stuck them all together
advancing them
frame
by frame

see how, magical it appears
ss if, before your very eyes,
the poem
is writing itself

cartoon mechanism revealing
serious
metaphysical meaning,
emotional truth


AMONGST THE EXPENDABLE

it is the small
swuidgy, rather
pathetic sins
of the poor

that outrage the gods,
elicit their contempt and fury

lead to punishment inflicted
consonant with all
you believe
in your dark theology

of a divine law supremely
vacuous in
its viciousness

not to be compared, or
mentioned in the same breath
of the immaculate sins
of great
heroes and leaders

the Greeks at Troy the.
patricians of Rome
the political elite utterly
at home
on Epstein island

whose infractions, at
first glance horrendous
are things
viewed from high
Olympus

divinity adores
confirming their trust
in these best
kinds of people

in no sense expendable
as with the lowest of the low


THE PAINT

the paint wore off
and with it a sense
of vibrant
ordinariness

and with it,
of course, the graffiti

spelling out the rich and
quite vicious
concerns of and life

in Rome

and where
the disjunctions arise
where voices
have their say, not
buying
into the myths entirely

see here, in this corner,
in the coarsest Latin imaginable
an up to date dossier
on the most
recent excapades clandestine
and extramarital

of none other than
the great
Julius Caesar himself?


IMPETATOR

and this is
the plain God’s truth
as to where
you
are now

what your history has
done to
change you
from what
you were

ending the democracy
for which
you were never
really, actuallt suited

gave
you your Imperator
so useless and stupid but
what you
were ready to
die for

finger on the button
about to
annihilate
humanity

that scum of
the Earth, beings
far less
exceptional
than you

WHAT TO DO SHANTY

WHAT TO DO WITH A DRUNKEN
NATION SHANTY  (EARLY
IN THE MORNING)?

Oh America!
America!

after those Lego
diss videos
          (while we are about
it give that what
to do with
a drunken Hegseth
one a
frigging Oscar)

you are going to
need
to come up
with something
truly blockbuster, titanic,
brilliantly epic

find your
new Lincoln, Roosevelt, Walt
Whitman, Henry
James, William Faulkner,
Kennedy,
Stanley Kubrick, Scott Fitzgerald,
         Sylvia Plath  George Carlin

to put
     forward your
counter argument, redress
the balance
    stop the entire world
killing
     themselves with laughter

upping  your smarts
to compete
with such
       outrageous wit, pure
satirical talent

          grow such artistic,
intellectual, literary,
political luminaries —

which
makes it a pity you
slashed education, downgraded
critical intelligence,
stripped your
universities to purchase
another trillion
dollars worth
of essential weapons

rather
    plant for a future
a different path
entirely

that one
    you always refused
to take

now your
only survival

AMERICA

AMERICA

America
nobody told you
the Universe
loves irony

dramatic, cosmic, satirical,
irony in each and every
size
shape
and form

America
nobody told you
about the nature
of irony,
gave you a clue
a working definition

or maybe they did
and it slipped your mind
or you contrived
to forget it

having such exclusively,
crucially important priorities,
a destiny to make
manifest,
which you didn’t
quitecunderstand at all

INSANE RAIN

INSANE RAIN

Insane rain
insane of itself, in itself,
and in its capacity
to drive
us all insane

so this is it
this climate change
you claim is false science
you claim
is overrated

what was hitherto desert
a little more of this
well on it’s way
to mangrove, rain forest

and here, with
devastating predictability,
it is here again
raining on
all and sundry
Monday
to Sunday

raineth on
the faithful, raineth
of atheists too

pouring down on Protestants
down on Catholics too

drenching, drowning,
the hapless,
       forcing the sheltered
to count their blessings,

talk
    to God Himself about it
talk to
the highest Papal appointee
will take your call

Nature
     taking a savage turn
thanks to
our interference

yes those
       who survive, remain
bone dry

know that at least
though screwed up
terminately, definitely,
entirely

at least
respects our sacred
truths of wealth and class.

BOSS TALK

BOSS TALK

this is a poem
wrote it
in a flash
still
   a novice
at the art
been learning it
all my life

still
so much to learn

such
a waste of time
according to the advert
according to the boss
in the advert

the boss who doesn’t care
for time unmotivated,
time without results

time
in a poem
time that is a poem
time edging
its bets, running
forwards  and backwards

time that is
microlearning,  is
Swiss watch precision

is the accumulation of
a world of everything
caught, captured
in a phrase

EDITED VERSION

EDITED VERSION

cut
dissolve

and fade to

this poem could not
be what it is without blue screen

without what magically
to interact with
these words here
gets
projected
onto the page

and what
could be less analogue
more digital
and yet mimetic

what a job
you pulled, downloading
your everything
into it

calling the shots, making
all the key directorial,
editorial decisions

as there it
rolls out, into the public
domain, global
mediasphere
heart, mind,
soul (to
varying degrees)
all thrown into it

for which you entirely
must take half the credit,
at least, at least