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                  november 2022


…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…





…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…



…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…




…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…