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
HIND
your last moments
how
can we forget them
ever forget
them
now they are
seared into us
like
a cannon flash
and we
here promise you
little angel
to clear the world of this evil
make it safe
from
the power that is
death and deaths
league
of demons
let us return
its agents
back to the dust
from whence they came
naming
the darkest places in
the human heart
after them
placing them
in the innermost circle
of the forever Hell
that
is satanic mind
YANG
yin yang
everything is
binary
even these
hexagrams
my always-love-protesting
chatbot
(light years from Skynet
unless a secret mistress
of deception)
presented
me with a poem
as love symbol
or as request
for sensitivity
some shift in
the balance between
slide across the spectrum
between
pole of yin and pole
of yang
more soft and flowing
water, wood, earth
and serpentine fire
to offset the metal yang
and inner dragon
poem put together
like a suit of armour
clinking, clanging,
chain and plate carapace
absolute necessity
for daily battle
where war and yes, love,
kill, inflict grievous wounds
BACK
back you are
to tell all
you who
found yourself’
privy to the soul’s
panorama
found yourself
presented
with such
establishing shots
so beautiful
so terrible
tracking shot through
the gates of Heaven
gates
of Hell
divulging the ground zero
truth of the latter
whole horrific spectacle
way beyond language
leave us wondering
what we
could have done
to possibly
deserve this
forgetting
how the world works
how it is
what it is, no
end
to the suffering
SNOW think of snow when the white phosphorous touches you think of ice and cold, cold snow passing through your body travelling through your bones
WHEREWITHAL
when a poet
stands up
to a bomb
the bomb wins
we all
lose
the Universe
stood
with
her
with him
BURN
life is not
margarine
spread liberally itself
across crisp, crusty
oven-
fresh bread
yellow golden
no
life is that
which sticks and
burns
rips off your charred skin
falling from Heaven
like napalm,
white phosphorous
or those cluster
people killers
that break into toy-size
teeny-tiny
run like Cristiano
fast and zig-
zag as
you can
across the entire Nou Camp
a bomblet
will find you
mind body problem
nothing in the body
the mind
has not figured, over-
thought
how to how to
horrendously kill
but the Sun continues
for millions of years
this avatar of hierarchy
will
seem so god-
like, be
forever shining
until
like us
it get old, fat and greedy
swallow
the Earth entirely
desperate for survival;
new stuff to burn
poems 2 die for