God created the world in play
Poetry
Some of my poems.
Poem – Clone Streets
Aug 19th
one day i will meet you on the mean clone streets
averaged out by orders of magnitude
divided neat
into a symmetric cities
which when seen from altitude
resemble tracery grids
mirrored a thousand times on a thousand grey boulavards
roads and traffic cones that pull us fractionated participants
into neighbourhoods divided into familar parts and family cells.
where everywhere else, is everyone else
∆
yet up close everyone resembles the same person
and tonight will go home to participate in reinforcing the archetype
reforming in front of the television
after a hard day’s traviling at the reallocation of resources
amongst the workplace machines all gibbering in binary
the secret codes that unlock the currency
wading in paperwork
trudging through drudgery.
practicing the artistry inherent in memorandum writing
deriving momentary kicks from impulse clicks
our friend sits between headlines flickering
impressions scored in rss
newsfixed and too involved to get depressed
reallocating cash and clocking time
counting hours until the next escape
to a foreign isle where once and a while
the animal is uncaged
recharged just enough for the next 9 to 6
then to return where he can continue clocking time, number crunching
and anticipating the next retreat
˚
it all runs splendidly
ordered into stratified social herirarchies
shepharded from above
wealth divisions specifically defined
the human patchwork
socially engineered, flawlessly complex,
it slots in by design
Image Credit: admiretime
Poem – I guess, I’ll
Aug 19th
i guess i’ll resign myself to a life of medicority
i put in a request for a frontal lobotomy
you’ll know when it works
cos you’ll see such a lotta me
smiling bland, besot by the boredom
surrounded by tasks i leave undone
i get me gone and leave my lifespan open
to be recontinued by a certain someone
Image Credit: JaneArt
Poem – Bloodline
Aug 17th
my genes are the memories
of my many ancestors
asking me to place a spear point
between the eyes of my enemies
be they devils, animals or other men
i am strangely compelled and can cleverly rationalize
my newly remembered plans to harm them
*
my paleolithic ancestry asks me
as politely as it can primitively articulate
and explains in clear terms how to weaponize a nearby mop
i recall how in great detail the easiest way to sharpen and crop
the back into an edge ( i throw away the head)
and now to grinding deadly devices from shards of flint
my speartip waits unfashioned in the driveway
..i’m now completely convinced.
*
and my limbric brain wont refrain from trying to convince me of
all the pleasures to be gained from dealing out pain.
the vikings in my past have convinced me
that all i need is a battle-axe
for the little tasks
they later add that chain-mail never really went out of fashion.
and that i’m in dire need of bacon and a beer flagon!
*
i find that on impulse
i might drop kick a dinosaur
into the path of a meteor
throw rocks at the head of a sabtretooth tiger
i got love for chicxulub
my character amplified a thousand million times
in the cacaphony of my bloodline
and today,
with deadly broom in hand
i will do away with my civility
and in spite of my humanity
i am defined by what i was.
Image Credit: SKI tripper
Poem – New Grounds
Aug 14th
first you start to understand the works of man
the city plans
the geometry and
later you may start to learn
how we overturn new grounds and why buildings burn
and over time you may come to see
patterns in the madness, the harmony
the fractals built upon the black profound
and feel a little sadness
that in understanding
all the wonders have gone away
but i’ll tell you man
you will never understand
why the magic must decay
Image Credit: Subterranean Tourist Board
Poem – When The Sun Is Gone
Aug 12th
centenary sun
another century comes
and cemetery sun
turns a radiant back
on a planet aged
the terminator draws a divide between days
with light and the shadow that splits the sea
and world turning black
away it goes
and sinks below the horizon
now alone and exposed
to the darkness
and before the sun comes back
the moon will drive us mad
Image Credit: *L*u*z*A*
Poem – Parents
Aug 12th
i paid my dues to him and you
i took the abuse
and years of blues
bliss is knowing what to do
when all around
is broken mood
i admire the aspects of the acute and pained
the scarring on the martyr’s face,
every time they go away
that i do
Poem – Facing Closure
Aug 11th
importance has fallen through open loops
and it’s the pressure of deeds undone
that heaves at one
a life incomplete will not know peace
release the thing
or get it done
Poem – Facing The Crowd
Aug 11th
I, the face in the crowd behind the floodlights
amongst torments, charged in silent mouths
steeped in shadows and hostile matters
on hard, neglective ground
a thousand switchblades held in covered hands,
waiting to come out..
Ω
two thousand hooded eyes fixated
on the awning stands
an everpresent silence, listening,
the emptiness, breathing
cimmerian shades, flowing
judging, yet bereft of speaking…
and the orator is facing the crowd.
Poem – Chav
Aug 10th
When I look upon another
I must curb my judgements
and inspite of what I think I see
Embrace a little inquiry
there’s something nature’s telling me
I should choose to question myself
as this person knows
something I don’t
They and I are not so distant
Things are not as they appear
and people are not too different
Despite what I may hear…
could be a very nice person
Poem – My verses versus poetry as whole
Aug 17th
Posted by admin in Personal
No comments
so you dont like my verses?
well aint that a shame
cos imma keep writing poetry
exactly the same
i dont want constructive criticism
i want goddamn acolades
to be told constantly that my work is so great
as to have keats, austen, frost, shelley and all those gays
turning madly like gyrostats in unmarked graves
and i keep entering free competitions
cos i will not be paying
entry fees
to be told by some hardline
“oh pu-lease..”
and that before i publish
perhaps i should wait
or i’m not emotive enough
and my work reads the same
cos if one person reads it
and finds something to like
then i’ve done just enough with the writing
and you can swallow your own critique
disarm your delight
muzzle yourself and that spittle that’s dripping with spite
bite hard down on your schadenfreude
and get off of my website
be afraid. be very afraid