LEGION
poem
is an
unfaithful act
always set to deviate
from its original
aim and intention
scan what we
have here
seemingly naked
across this
white-sheeted bed
so many binary moments
hiding the secrets
just begging
to confess
this we have here
no worse
no better
than the legions
of others
SURRENDER
she wrote her poem
every metaphor
bullet-pointed
every syllable
metal-jacketed
every image
a grenade
when she let rip
a whole belt, an entire clip,
out of ammo
she had nothing left
to attack
defend herself with
not a word
to work with
her critics sensing this
out of blood
moved in
for the kill
forcing her surrender
unless
there was no surrender
UNDERNEATH
(GOOD FOR YOU)
just type
your poem
here
(underneath)
and my natural silicon
carbon digital synapses
will
set to work
shaping it
for the stratosphere
or even
beyond the galaxy
extend it
down the page, across
a chaper
push it in the direction
of a collection
we are talking
a whole book
this is the technology that
is indistinguishable
from magic
should you indeed
call it magic
I
would not
disagree
and if I
think it be
magic pure magic
we should
all think so too
if we know
what’s good for us
if you
have sussed what
is good for you
TRUE?
time passes;
words disappear
hard angle, narrow
algorithmic
minimalism becomes
my mode of being
body
shrinking, mind folding
its wings
but soul
now
hears the countdown, sees
its target plain
as day
target, trajectory, flight-
path confirmed
end of
the poem itself
lined up, what
could be
more
painful, beautiful,
final, true?
OR SO YOU BELIEVE
déshabillé
(or so you believe)
whereas I would say
too much is divulged
subtext is showing
paradigm so exposed
to the ruination of your reputation
need a cover up
heads to
spin
though my own stock-
in-trade be
scarcely golden
seems like you may just
have rushed too pre-
cipitously into
some bad
media alchemy
and now
are looking high and low
under every bombed structure
for each
and every collateral
making such a racket to
deflect our eyes
from the hypocrisy
the place
reduced to a desert
carnage
beyond words
sad that what might have
served poetry
bent out of shape to
sustain
the war industry
defend
death’s exceptionally
make the case for a rapture
thing so sickly sweet
will
annihilate the need for
theology
morality, humanity
basic kindness and love
the species professed to hold dear
TAIPAN
I do hope
these feeble offerings
meet expectations
blend in with perceptions
fit the ruling algorithm
work wonders in the wash
with
every colonial.mindset
under the Sun,
the skin-cancer Sun
likely to play havoc
with the
shade of our species
need to hit this one
not just out
of the park
but across the entire outback
(mustn’t
come boomeranging back
in any size shape or form)
or return
with that sour vomit reflux
that you
people antipodean
have just way too
many synonyms for
and so
as you see by my references
and appendix certification
I have not only
chosen wisely and well
but have measured every
word, graphene,
syllable using
precise laser alignment
and most exact
of micrometers
have filtered via pipette
to withhold any residue
what is left
should be
immune to distaste,
inoculated against deep scrutiny
unless somewhere in
the nature of the whole toxic
chemistry
produced a venom more
troublesome than
that of
the inland taipan itself
.
GUITAR
my telephone beeps
it does
not speak
it tells me
her message is here
was
holding my breath
but now
I can breathe
this is what she wrote
fingers that once
tippy-
toed now
dancing across
the keyboard
express
delivery
heart to
heart
(would those nimble
fingers were
here
plucking my strings
playing me like
a rock guitar)
DARK SIDE
“You have no idea
of the power of the
dark side.” Star Wars,
Episode V The Empire
Strikes Back.”
Garside
dark side
my sleek black
serpentine muse
surfacing with a list
of devilish assignations
from
deep beneath the pithead
me paying in blood for
these limited skills (can
barely call
them art)
but today a difference:
wraps me up, hauls
me off
takes me deep
down in that elevator
sheer
demon deep
leveling out there
whar she blows
other uses for these fingers
back-up dexterities
learn to
probe shadow, uncouple
shackles
take on board so much
blistering anger raging
irreverence
raving raging
words
ruins
runes
spreading chaos
across the page
.
stooping to levels
below the unthinkable
damned
to write horrors, delights,
infinite beyond
the gurgling sounds
a throat might make, doomed
damned
blessed
infinitely so
for all time
DUD
I sent you
my poetry
my book
of
failures
every single poem
a failure in significance
coming nowhere
near saying
what
I set out to say
wanted
to achieve
everypoem
a dud
by a mile, by
a hair’s breadth
thinking of your hair
all your
hair not
too
coy here
every poem a mission
a reach
question asked
connection begged
exquisitely
sometimes here perhaps
where not
accomplishment entirely.
TO BE BELIEVED
there is ice
in my blood
my purpose
glacier
words freezing
up in my pen
before they hit the page
nothing to be eked no
out of the gangrene
of frostbitten fingers
this a coldness
that has to be felt
to be believed
total whiteout everywhere
all conceivable landscapes
both as regards
the external
and what
is believed inside
poems 2 die for