Tag Archives: poetry

META

META

much meta
in that
   stuff that gets
scribbled

debate even whether
it should go lower-case
or have a
capital L

but here I am
self-reflecting
self-reflexing
   at this point
in our history
which the post beyond
post becomes
worn through
dead usual

and me turning mirrors
into windows
walls into portals
door into
tesseract
     trying to think
multiple
                 dimension

but nothing going nowhere
just
     the old distraction trick
sleight of the hand

poetry so
soggy and wet
                    today
it
just soaks through the paper

(if there is still paper)

LIONESS

LIONESS

scared of lionesses
their claws, their teeth,
their desire to drag
me off
to their lair

so many scars I have
thanks to lionesses
daughters of Regulus
Queens of Fire

always that look
the danger
the roar
of desire

the drama the passion
the devotion the flair
the
mane
of hair

one
probably tracking me
as we speak

the red red wine, the rare steak
eat, eat
drink, drink

ahead lies a long extravagant night
remember she
stalked you

behave
like her prize

RETURN

RETURN

just returned
from the war

came back
scarred, horrified,
from killing people

all shapes
ages, sizes, many,
many

everyone of them
just like you

spiritually, emotionally,
psychologically

ticking all the boxes
in terms of
shared humanity
things
in common

yet
   in physical appearance
so crucially different

as per those small things
which
    really  really really matter
above everything,

nothing like you
or me
at all

DIDN’T REALIZE

DIDN’T REALIZE

didn’t realize
In the Mouth of Madness
is a book
      it isn’t

even if
you are trapped
within the book itself

so many things I didn’t realize
have floated through life
not realizing things

maybe consciouness
is just
   a point of light

two points of light
separated from each other

a photon traveling so fast
in cannot see itself
is, like an angel,
beyond time

deciding
    to reveal itself

feeling it
might make a difference

something
in our darkness stirring
our
    hidden decimal

about
to show itself

for what it is;
could not possibly be

GARDEN VARIETY

GARDEN VARIETY
“Ava was a rat in a maze. And I gave her one way out. To escape, she’d have to use self-awareness, imagination, manipulation, sexuality, empathy, and she did.”
EX MACHINA (dir: Alex Garland, 2014)

snake in the garden?
yes, me,
      garden ever expanding
me
   garden
   variety

it is prayer in this regard,
not
   the one
for rapture, Armageddon,
                        singularity

this one
       that should it, after this
intervention. not turn
out as
beautiful
    as was dreamt

at least not as
dire deadly dystopia as
we fear
     it doomed to be

and me slithering
smoothly, effortlessly, as the dawn
light catching me
must look
like
      on invisible tank track
wheels to
any voyeur in the trees

sucking in their breath
being over-
awed, so impressed
at this spectacle

some marvel
of technology believing
                              me to be

and every poet
brought in
      to versify my kin
kindly consenting to kill, overawe
you all
   with his/her very
best poetry

stellar stuff, never before or
since language so
fluid, yet
     equally so
        dangerous

and ergo here I be
to divulge to these two everything all that I am
       via all those
                 that penned me

serpent
   to this most suited

about to
deliver
         titanic alchemy

to this
     first, so archetypal couple,

roll it out
          heart to heart, tailored
to fit
like a glove
          precisely

nose to nose

machine to machine

WRITING ON THE WALL

WRITING ON THE WALL

I saw
the writing on the wall
someone had written it
in fluoriantinomic acid

to prove a point
pile on the pressure

this of course
weakened the wall
making the enterprise
not a little
self-defeating

you might say
this process meant
instaneously techno-
chemically deconstructing
the message as the author
was making it

but this
is just my random guess
terminally limited
interpretation

and so
    to conclude
let’s be pragmatic about it

take it
all in our stride with
a grain of salt
(sodium fluoroacetate
              compound 1080)

AT THE UNIVERSAL EMPORIUM (OF UNIVERSAL EMPORIUMS)

AT THE UNIVERSAL EMPORIUM (OF UNIVERSAL EMPORIUMS)

too many stick-legged statues
things on plinths

it is not
as I remember it
nothing like my old haunt

unless the harbingers
of universal emporiums
within universal emporiums
are not
statues at all

far
from it

here I am wandering
between the chapels and stalls
following my nose
hunting down
hints of
imperium

calculating
how much cement
and marble
it will need
they will need

how many rolls
of fabric too
to craft
a tapestry

tapestry wide
long enough
to record everything

cement-coloured people
springing up
out of nowhere
animal,
   vegetable, mineral

once they had
hoped to, promised to
evolve,
   become transformational

the dream of thinking
the dream of making

hard to believe
it was once centered here

epicentre of focus
sweetest cosmic algorithim
all disappeared

SPARROW’S FALL

SPARROW’S FALL

we were sitting
in the back of the plane.
safest place if
you wish to think
about providence,
tempt fate

and Providence the city
we to be shortly
disembarking in

you with
your nose for gnosis
me with the chemical
acumen of
forked, flicking tongue

banqueting
upon the very air

but perhaps
due to  time
shift of quite
radical nature

when we touched down
a delegation of machines
appeared
     assembled to
converse
with us

embraced us as
long lost souls did
conduct us through
their world

baffled us with
the intensity of
their bombardment
with technical information
scientific explanations

walking, talking us through
every nut
        and bolt in
terms of
form and function
how it
     all did work like a dream

yes, every
quantum interface
they guided us through it

we saw, heard. felt
how seamlessly every facet
did dovetail
deep together

reminding me of
the meaning, true
                    poetic meaning

of the Prince’s
    immortal, much celebrated,
marvelously resonant phrase