Tag Archives: writing

SIDELINED

SIDELINED

trying to sideline us
even beyond the margins

trying to close us down
crimp this space
so we can’t
say
   anything
to each other

conflating what we
have here
     what we here explore,
revise, deconstruct, analyze,
extend,

with what machine-handle
wood block slogans
you are ratcheting up
in that
      pre-industrial cogs and
wheels
machine you exaggerate
in the history
of philosophy
and psychology
that you call a brain

bringing us down
to your level

level not just flat, one
dimensional

but steamrollered until
the molecules that
bind
     hold-together
cannot give any more

LAST

LAST

this should be
my last poem

the process
has become fraught

protection permeable
hostile takeover imminent
constant suppression, much
infiltrating

you look at what
is on this page

ask: is this how
savages, animals
write these days?

and you fighting with every bone,
      every breath
for consensus?

so many conceptions, contending
definitions at play

out of this problemmatic
few crossovers, no
idea miscegenation

things you
believed getting tunneled under
tunneled through

and always, still
same overriding question

is this how poetry, a single
poem should look
    and then what about

humanity, in what image
a single human?

WHY ON EARTH?

WHY ON EARTH? 

poetry is
the soul of man
the breath of life’s being

and those that write
our unacknowledged
legislators
    just happen to be

so far, so good,
but now lets just settle for
a change in tone, of pace

ask
   why, Oh why
are you still writing?

and why on Earth
did you start in the first place?

LIVE AND LEARNER

LIVE AND LEARNER

found a book
of dark poetry
under my bed

got me
musing

all that dark stuff
now in my head
verses
    riven
with ravens

maybe that
with metaphor
has something to do
tenor, vehicle
      more explosive
than Lego

(used poem as a Molotov
fuse once
    knocked out a
Tiger tank)

maybe on
second, third,
thousandth and
last thought

if you
have a bed
should look
under
it too.

book could be there
scheming, calling
                    for you

LIKE IT

LIKE IT

I like it when
even
   in full flow
(the joy
of flow)
you catch exactly
how your
mind works
how it all works

have your
self-reflexive
meta moment

finish the poem
with its special twist

and the Universe
(whether it is
              real or
simulation)
smiles and
           welcomes you
to postmodernity.

CONJUNCTION

CONJUNCTION

I am writing
              a poem

and the world is fucked.

I am writing a poem
but
the world

     is fucked

I am
writing a poem

however, although,
the world
                              is
                      fucked

am writing
notwithstanding, despite,
in outright opposition to

the
   world

being fucked.

I am writing a poem,

have written a poem,

just trying to establish
the precise conjunction.

QUESTION MARK

QUESTION MARK

thank you
for not inviting me
to your
prestigious event

not up
to your level
I think I get
the message

we poetic bottom-
feeders must
take what
we can get

but is it not
“true”, by
definition that
anything appearing
on this stage

part
of this show

is horribly compromised,
by no means
capable of
doing

what words
should do?

MAMBA METAPHOR

MAMBA METAPHOR

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

think I must be
an animal there just
to be stamped on
crushed, einsatzed and
gas chambered

and it is there in the script
in your vision of, and
for reality

         what you see
                      must become,
must be
even if you have to
slaughter all the children
animal children
of the rest of humanity
                     animal humanity

but my pen
       is black inked and
silver grey on the outside

its nib
     poised like a fang

ergo
    this poem, writhing and
striking
         exacting an absolute
price
from being
forced into this corner,
put in this posture
    
is a black mamba
it is my
      totem for the day
       my creature of choice

******

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

throwing linguistic
Phosphorous  in
your general direction

sticking you
     with enough drops of
neurotoxin
to kill half
         your army

I see
     you still have issues, your
anger rising

                      anger born of fear
fear clinging to
survival

that evolution is about, all about
about only
              the crushing of the weak
the triumph of the strong

so
    whilst you still can
whilst the venom is with
horrible curiosity
feeding
                    into your system
pressing
        every wrong button

throwing every wrong switch
disabling every
            vital lever

finding out
            what makes you tick
then smashing the clock

whilst we wait just a few minutes
for the demonic chemistry to work
      behind this deconstructive
procedure

just
     pass the torch on
you
     will no longer
carry

slide into prayer and
plea for vengeance from
   
                 your slick
wooden god

*****

you called me
animal

   thought to
myself “that’s
a metaphor”

       sometimes they
are wild, unpredictable

                       can cross
into reality

this in
          their nature to
follow their shadow, unleash
the dark program

remain dangerously true
to both
          species and brand