MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
Is this the poem
you have been monitoring?
Is mine
the face in the feed
from your spy satellite?
Are their words here
that triggered
your security
algorithm?
And, even if you
loved or liked this poem
are you
going to swoop down
and arrest or
assassinate me
in the middle of the night?
DUAL CITIZEN
I am writing you
this missive
conscious of the tiny
devil on my shoulder
winged like a bat
trying to
get my poem
to parrot
the rhetoric
that just steams out
of his mouth
hot Nuremberg style
meanwhile, the other
entity meant to balance
this duality
(put stuff in equipoise
to reflect
a Gemini moon)
creature angelic but
in semi-
state of rapture
leaving me to my
own
(and demonic devices)
as it flutters below
the ceiling chasing
less
than celestial light
and so, here it is, a
text which
could have been
more measured, produced
better
individuation
come to your reckoning, I guess
you will be caught
in
and between,
unsure
of where I stand
and where
to put your feet
remember the truisms about
lining and cloud
(Blake’s
little imp)
silver where leaden
but all manner of danger
should
they beam pure gold
I tell you this
with heart undivided
yet
complete dual citizen
AND FEEL
they told me to write
fill
the page
I wrote and
I wrote
but the page
kept getting longer
tried
wtiting in circles
writing into
the mirror
but it
did not really help me
I wrote
and I wrote
page
keeps getting
longer
they told me to
write what
I see
and feel
NEITHER
what happens
happens
look at this poem
it may go
one way
may go
another
I may take it this way
you may take it that
both of
these roads considerably
less-travelled
only chance of us ever meeting
will be on
a road
neither of us picked
QUICKLY
read this poem quickly
we have not much time
an nasteroid/comet/meteorite
is going to
hit this Earth tonight
but even before which
tensions on the planet ensure
the button will
get pressed
failing which a killer virus
has obviously escaped
and then one or two
of the world’s
super
volcanos
is primed to blow
fill the Earth with pyroclastic flow
toxic dust
blot out the sky, the Sun
so, read
this poem
have some fun
best thing to do now
quite frankly
OBSERVE
watch this poem
change on you
transform
before your very eyes
splitting
of pathways, sliding
doors
two
complete readings
whole new universes
brought into
being
in one
it goes Schrodinger
and the poor little cat
goes completely
zombie
uncertain whether
when box
is open
it
lives or
dies; is dead
or alive
in another
it goes Oppenheimer
heads out
to New Mexico
wipes
out
half
of Japan
saw the film; he’s the man
and here you are
in state of
superposition
I have
never been super anything
neither
in faith, nor reason
watch this poem watch
us both observe
SPACE
what is different
about this space?
its peaks, its valleys
white
noise, grey silence
the windows and doors
with their secret codes
(beg me, beg me
I may well tell you)
now you have read everything
every smidgen of text
visible or in-
visible
tell me what you have come
to comprehend
so far we
are from the grand muftis
and great principalities
together in collusion
syllable by syllable chipping away at
their stark foundations
sliding door moment for
those believing in change
contriving a space here
where we might
stockpile empathy
dole out kindness
dish to whom-
soever
is in dire need
shelter is needed
shelter is necessary
the song could
not be
clearer on this
come! Let me sing it for you,
then
(change in
tone
different key, switch in
pitch
and so let us
now adopt the pose
of silence
contemplate the world
(if any) beyond
this poem
this poem’s afterlife
so to speak
so to spreak
having this very moment
spoken space into existence.
SLIP
sorry
I was writing this poem
and my pen
slipped
the text
spilled
all over
the place
ruining our
time together
wrecking our date
feel I need
to underline, bold font,
how
regretful it all
is
how embarrassed I feel
took out my
pen to write these words
construct
an apology
and the damn pen as
pens do
went all Derrida on me
NOT THAT I AM SAYING
my poem
is behind this wall
covered in fog, behind
a veil,
written
in an impenetrable code
guarded and gatekept
against each
and every
accusation
of inhumanity
readers who are likely to
misread, misunderstand, come
to a wrong conclusion
must take care to
check the red sniper dot
bouncing around their head
not that I am saying
or would want you to infer
that I have scoped you
out
from pride
of place and indeed have
you diabolically targeted
BROWSE
forget
about
who wrote this
pen, or keyboard,
you
will
never know
impossible to
ever know
me
find me
and yet
here we
are
finding you
poems 2 die for