Wednesday, 27 October 2010

A Clutch of Words...

Pulling Back

To forget we are alive, or to remember
Our hot, fat blood and crumb-dust bone?
Giving pieces of ourselves away,
Scattering memories like tired shoes.
Needing no collars to protect our cheeks
From the solar wind.
Is it pertinent
To honor man by remembering beast,
To forget selectively, with a quickened heart?
The difficulty of a deepened life is lived
Every day we chase or flee,
With only faith that we are replenished.

Plenum of Kali

Guilty the cardinal kings, the courts, striving for pleasures
Pastimes, sports, here in the waters
The deep and the shallows, sweating the swing
In the noose, the gallows, is your child
Mine, the moderate distraction
Offered up godlike, surrounded, serene
I’ve killed all my friends
At my doctor’s suggestion, the sound or inflection, of voice,
Choice, ghosts among bodies
I’ve gutted the clock and named all
My hobbies, to weep
Or walk backwards through verse
Licking my fingers of dark red


The gun is the life, is the death, is the
Now I hope all of you have remembered your
The chamber is empty, to be filled
With the dancers.
I hope you’re all ready to be killed
With no answers.

Santa is out there, in the dark, on the
Better to cut or to bleed where you’re
Is the drip-drip-drip
On hardwood floors
Better the void
Of scoreboard whores?

The action of class, at last
The class action
Is captured in the lens of lascivious
There go the reindeer, through snow
And through folly.

The knife in your heart means I
Truly am sorry.
I beg you are mighty and loving
And kindly.
I hope you’re all ready to live
And remind me.

Please Stand By

DNA in the Cathode-Ray
Shrinking the world at large, flesh in flesh-tones
Red Menace in Colour, sitcom to SatCom
Bring me Arabic with cheddar, and wine
The hot-cold-hot of tribal altercation
Ex-Marx the spot
Where they pierced the ground
Addendum to file, My Lai, or not
White liberal nodding-guilt
Distinctions for none
Like Jack, the knife, the dirty bomb
Let’s not forget what we have, have not
The multiplex at World’s End, stones for all the family
What happened yesterday

Boy meets Girl

The hard is killing us, some say
Softer, softer, if solitary has no recompense
The laughing, not just chaos
Paper planets on a string
A music without racket, tennis without love
Aloft with caramel calculation, domination dreams
Denying the clasp, the twinge, the crossed tease
Who hangs there, needing the nimble-fingered tendrils of snowflake?
The outsider-ones have eyes of plastic fire
Can we be frozen here?

No comments:

Post a Comment