CLOTHES
in the field of forever contention
tunes battle away
they waltz around you
whilst and even as
you fail to
consider
how naked you are, and
naked not only
but how
transparent
such they, as in the fable,
they instantly infer
that you are Emperor
drunk on the fiction
of power and grandeur
not to
mention the illusion
of flesh and blood and,
of course, clothes
ABOUT
so South is heading North
turning
things
around
the globe
in your bedroom
best turn it
upside down
South on
the Equator
giving its all
all that it takes
dreaming
a new vision
no more
Northern mistakes
so
South
heading North
simple
replacement;
this what it about
CHILD’S PLAY
like a child:
but did not mean
infantile
did not mean
psychotic
did not mean
projectile vomit
all over that globe spinning
in the living room
did not mean
you blood-painting
yourself
into a corner
all the while selling us
your story that you
are
responding to
Tik Tok and text message
direct
from above
HISTORY CHANNEL (KIND OF REMEMBER ME THAT SIEGFRIED SASSOON) watched a video on World War One who started it who finished it who went who stayed at home who came back like my Mother’s Dad big gong of a medal around his soft young neck which is just as well otherwise wouldn’t be here myself to waste your time as Siggie’s bishop himself didst poetically proclaim the ways of God being satirically strange watched a video on the channel on World War One same as the last one same people won
CHANNELING
a pretty derelict
unused space now
(like an
interstellar void)
but once
tge SkyVue drive in
used to cover
acres of territory
and the bush under the screen
where as kids
we played
cowboys
and savages
remember that screen
well it used
to fill half the night sky
saw Spartacus there, and
Cast a Giant Shadow
which wars, it seems,
never really died
Rome always lingering
Empires of Man versus
Empires of Heaven
but now
the whole planet
is our
screen
we have screens in our pockets
screens in our heads
inescapable
channeling
and there enough projection
to fill every known desert
desert of the real
Neo
truth having
dissolved, truth crucified
by fiction
truth’s fate to be enslaved
by the narrative of the day
and like
the poem says we
have all
become cyphers, organic
little molecules
in the dance of supreme fiction
the new reality to be
broadcast twenty-
four seven
dreamworld Neo, germane to
the Zhuangzi parable
cowboys, savages, think
like
a butterfly
the wild gift of technology
the premise to allow
without any
lingering sense of irony
to speak of self as supreme,
and, yes indeed, the world
.
DO SHEEP? do sheep dream of electric androids? last night I dreamt of the temple of the high abbatoir scouting out which I circumvented the butchery in the dark, dense forest perfect place (as opposed to a desert) for such slaughter to be hidden place where two and two make five or will do if they tell you it does
FRIEND the monster sat in the dock council for the defence tried his hardest to gaslight the jury need not have worried not have worried monster after monster parachuting in from everywhere overran the court room left with their rescued friend
SUPPRESS Suppress all those voices we do not want cannot bear anything that is rational, empirical, logical, poetical grounded in the real life critical context of struggling human beings take away those songs and stories that ask us, plead with us, implore us to, insist that we take an altered perspective, see the world differently listen to what the other side has to say God forbid! Leave us to our solid faiths, our complete beliefs which we are determined to persuade you of fair or foul whatever it takes human beings are meant to believe not to think are meant to follow not to lead meant to serve be no ways be free be gaslit to think there’s is the best of lives than can possibly be summit of our cynicism sublime stupendous hypocrisy.
FLOW I came because of cash flow problems, ended up on the river which must have had a sacred meaning once despite being the colour of stewed tea but we all had a nice lunch — correction, everyone had a sensational lunch but me taking a turn for the worse tottering off to the tiny aft toilet (adding to the discoloration of the waters no doubt) Oh life, against the current, can be a harshly blended mixture. And me here because of matters of terminally negative cash flow not so everwhere: here houses big as colleges whose manicured gardens sweep down in lush green to the river’s edge and here is one strikes my fancy as an African replica of the Palace at Versailles lost in wonder for a moment of breathtaking economic speculation (Marx on the Moselle) but then time to go home the boat turned around. Post-lunch the workshop am here to facilitate running softly downhill.
BATTLEFISH
you thought
sea is for fish
but I know
it’s for battleships
if you cannot
see this
you know
nothing of religious narrative
nothing of the supreme
design and plan
poems 2 die for