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november 2022
(i)
…with the faintest of all faint smiles
give this noise of human souls
a wide and careful berth
for therein lies the deepest
of all deep wounds
the palaeolithic delusion
of the sweetness of all violence
a darkness spiced with gods
that first taste of evil
consecrating the flooded world
with so, so lean and dismal butchers
and the graves
the exponential graves
that rise in-and-beyond the clouds
where is your burden
where are your wings
you are the last call
the last of all justice
come, sing of defiance
and return the world to stone…
(ii)
…I have found no centre to this stress
nothing to grip, no-one to say
what is so urgent
or why the tension hurts
so instead, I have pulled
worms from my fingers
spun webs with my toes
on my back I have even grown feathers
and watched shoals of fish
fly through my eyes
I have even answered the screech owls
and let tigers rise from my breasts
yet still, there has been nothing
nothing to hold or trust
as I moved so did everything move
as I spoke so the ground began to roar
it was the noise
the urgency of every enlightenment
all at once
it was my world falling, nothing more…
(iii)
…look inwards through the fire
and look outwards through the ice
beyond each are sentiments
condensing from the air
cold-glass droplets
of love and morality
watery salvations
that still manage to cry liberty
for all those who do not understand
why they have always been
crushed by smiles
the bulldozers again on the move
through this human ice
this human fire
sentiments that look at themselves
and see only vindication
a victory at any price
a victory of the air
of how love slowly evaporates
and morality again becomes the rain…
(iv)
…at some point the universe will mutiny
and all the hot and frozen dirt
will be flung out
jettisoned and tossed
into that merciless swallow-hole
where ghosts and assassins
are dragged
the clairvoyant darkness
because without doubt
I too will be there
and so will you
and so will all the dead messiahs
and their soapy voices
we will all be there
floundering up to our necks
in dead utopias
such walls made of frozen faces
of imperfections so vast
they can’t be seen
and all that which was inevitable, will have gone…