WHITE
Yellow custard
red jelly
black cat
white phosphorous
what is the colour
of horrible death?
WHITE
Yellow custard
red jelly
black cat
white phosphorous
what is the colour
of horrible death?
Ah, yes,
social Darwinism
be your inclination
pitbull terriers —
they
are your thing;
but would you pit, against
a tank, this,
or some other poem
without ceramic armour,
without armour-piercing
depleted uranium shell?
For all
poem got going for it
is knowledge of shadow, and
pulse of humanity
and that is
sure-fire defeat, on
hiding to nothing,
as a Nobel Laureate does suggest
himself suggest
Oh, if only tanks could be
stopped in their tracks
by bloke
with shopping bang
barrels get so stuffed with
gorgeous flowers things
might
misfire; shells
and bullets simply melt
in the face of all
that sweetness and light
(and
metaphor, let
us not forget)
the antennae
of the species
wrote on paper, in clay,
on the digital universe
who dare order?
what dare fire?
but then, who has ever
really talked to the mind of a tank?
LOST
all quiet
on the poetry front
bards on both sides
scrying down telescopic sights
in the crosshairs
here a sonnet, there
an ode
scribbled rap lyric
way before its time
let us not forget
hands and fingers that
could not be more creative
traversing self-
loading wespons that fire
ten to
twenty rounds per second
whole volumes complete oeuvres up in thin air
biting
the dust (death by
industrial warfare such
a monstrous cliche)
not much space here
for cross-
pollination, seminal
influence, collusion
even less
hope for free
translation (whole
generation
of the not-yet-
lived-yet
lost)
