july 2016
(i)
...with my many faces I drift
between the urgent and now emollient voices
to find only the harmless sinews
of my hands twisting with age
as though still trying
to authenticate joy
and span the world
with some destitute wisdom
a lie that grinds bricks
into my face and eyes
this skein of smart, sexual promises
in praise of menus and mawkish celebrities
their laughter exponential
as is the unquestioned duty
to always be entertained
by oranges and rape
the viral, OMG blitzkrieg
the last, inescapable heaven
twisting and grinding bricks into my face
as I attempt yet again
to seize the chorus in my head
and quieten the unquestioned onslaught...
(ii)
...the wind bursts through the night
and the black trees stretch starwards
reaching for life’s dark euphoria
their waving arms bringing malice to the fore
a nameless, metallic lake
that sits on the stomach
and pushes its verse upwards
a heavy, greedy imperative
eternity out of control
words, rats, obsequies
crawling across the brain
the wreckage of endless divinities
a blade drawn limitless
through the human mind
the night wind bringing release to the fore
a place where the dark trees
explode with iridescence
and freedom now has nowhere to go
but the stars...
(iii)
...each day waits in abeyance for each day
for the one-two-three obsession
where each second becomes
a speck of dust
and the word heartbeat marks out
its enduring anarchy
these ridiculous, empty testes
soothing the subconscious
slipping from one mantra to the next
and these pillows sprinkled with lavender
simply because there is so little sleep
beneath the wrinkled eye-lids
just meteors and litter
and, of course, death’s vicious rainbow
falling from the mind
this list of traumatic joys
a shy, unwilling biography
a life in abeyance, waiting for the dust
to become one more second
in the meteor’s descent...
(iv)
...by raw deceit
an invisible chaos is closing
like a burning cheese-wire
around our lips
and this once iconic world
is now left pirouetting
its crowds terrified by liberty
by love and rose gardens
by mothers left wiping their children’s
blood from the walls
as truth becomes confetti
and confetti premeditated deceit
the closing wire
a superstitious pact
between slaughter
and the will, the power and the glory
to eradicate fraternity
the narrowing, banal loop of laughter
an invisible wire
spinning humanity’s dark, new shadows
as the devotees, meanwhile, rise to their feet
and the gently-coloured confetti falls
through the roar of approval
and settles unnoticed on the floor...