poetry into the light

and so on and so forth

yesterday
harried from pillar to post
by partners, lovers, business,
relatives, fear and technicalities
i forgot to phone G, sick and weak
and dying in his hospital bed

that’s how easy it is to forget
the soon to be dead no sweat i do it
everyday like i have for most of the
days of a life; “that’s different” it
says here, “that’s not the same
“yes it is” i say, “yes it is"

in my graveyard shift

there’s nothing left.
dead people tell me

“what’s the point?”
“why bother?”

“nobody cares?”
“do you really think your scribbling makes a difference?”

as you see
i don’t meet many if any

live people
and if i do they usually

run away
the living dissolve

the dead sustain us

what every parent wants

don’t tell me what’s best for my son
i’m his dad i know what's best for my
own flesh ‘n blood; life, experience
taught me number one treat women kind
treat women well 'n hell they'll take you
for every penny 'n particle of pride
you ever worked for

see i love my son like all parents do
i'd do anything anything to keep him
from bleeding his self-respect away
so i give him common sense advice
like any parent would; I say “treat
the bitches like shit treat the bitches
like punch bags your life will be rosy
you'll always be king the rest
is for fags; if you follow my words
you’ll never regret it”

yes, i guess i am
a normal parent just like the rest
a living breathing caring john doe
so don't tell me what's best for my kid
i'm his dad ... I already know

the first apple

she bares her thighs
in search of disappointment
and it comes

serial killers

trusting, we buy a box
of Kellogg’s “Frosties
Reduced Sugar” a third less it says
with only twenty five grams o’ the stuff
in every hundred: “nothing added”
only “sugar taken away”

checking, we find Kellogg's take
a box o’ the original “Cornflakes”
with only eight grams o’ shug
in every hundred; then sprinkle
seventeen per hundred more
on
hey presto! - more becomes less
as “Cornflakes” become “Frosties
Reduced Sugar”

it’s a bit like whores in praxis
soliciting your vote with
we’ll give you more
but we won’t raise taxes

or worse
like when D.... the consecrated
minister says “God
is immutable” then says “God
is omnipotent”

in these faith based newspeak days
less is more ‘n more is less
and that, my friend, is being “positive”

if you don’t clean the walls before you re-decorate ...

slick sliders assert the solution is
to outdistance differences
and “move forward”

differences defiant are determinedly fit
and young and eager to run
the marathon

now we be spiritual (2)

many attain enlightenment
on the tops of mountains
sadly almost all descend

easier than fiction

forcefully he says my work
is autobiographical i know
different but don’t mind his
arrogance and lack of insight
in fact i get a glow realising
my writing is “authentic”

i recall that not so long ago
medical journals and opinion
insisted women didn’t have car
diac arrests it seems females
with symptoms of heart disease
were misdiagnosed as, leading
easy lives not stressed with man
ly tribulations, they had hysteria
not heart attacks

he wouldn’t think it but the men
who wrote those medical opinions
weren’t scribbling about women
they were writing about themselves

a nat king cole thing

looking up at the moon
from the frozen south pole

aren't you really looking down
with the moon below

finger tips

does it have to be sad
it seems we can’t help it
endless love watching
from the sidelines

sheep know what i’m writing
about, i’ve read their newsletter
“abattoirs and the art of zen” an
impressive article on stoicism
in every issue

my problem is i can’t stop being
serious even when you make me
watch those bloody antiques auction
programs so these days i just hold
your hand and hope; i hold that too
clinging to the ledge as usual

assuage

the light dies
he can still see
though her eyes
are closed
so can she

the fire glows
occasionally flame
shannon rock
all are to blame

positive every is
even the negative
absolute every is
even the relative

and versa vice

currently i kill time
while time does
likewise with me
how else history

withal tick tocked
still there is mystery
who closed her eyes
who placed pennies
for her thoughts
who stole them
who survived
who was caught
who was jailed
who as “hero”
was hailed

but for now relax
there’s always time
for tea
the caddy here
is never locked
dum di dum di
dum di di

celebrations

it's peter's seventy ninth birthday today

celebrations all week

happy birthday peter

i love you

beep!

what can i tell ya?

there is no end

ok?

that’s it

killers within - killers without

i have no sins
though much i’m guilty of
which the worse

things i’ve done ... or not
whatever (rivers, lakes, oceans,
showers) nothing can wash those not-sins

away and though love may balance sad
ness my regret won’t help those i have
indifferenced

killed with no knowledge of the crime   
just so, the violence in the word
“indifferenced”
language lies bleeding feels no pain

so lacking quality control thousands online
accept no blame for vicious murders in
the verse degree; another world wide
claim to shame: expressing
ourselves so, vacuously

error of judgement

one way to address iran's
quest for nuclear weapons

would be to address israel's
possession of nuclear weapons

sorry, my mistake
stupid suggestion

education education education

because we have eyes we believe we can see
henry moore disagreed he believed we need
to be taught how to use our eyes

likewise with ears eric gilder believed we need
to be taught how to listen and though i already
knew my coltrane from my coleman hawkins he

opened mine with the help of walton’s first symp
hony between them these five changed my life
permanently for the good my eyes and ears work

ing better thanks to their teaching best of all we be
blessed with minds but boast we can, as a matter
of course, think; I reckon we need to be taught
how to think, clearly few agree so we live with

the fruits of teaching children what to believe
before, if at all, even suggesting they think: as
for noses, few seem to notice or mind the stink
though we certainly know how to smell

i be with you always

history lasts for a very long time i ain’t
somethin you easy just put i behind you ‘n
"move" as they casual buzzword say “on”

every time you try movin i zoom out in front
o your hum vee right sanctified god’s on our side
‘n i weigh not a ton but a zillion times zillions ‘n laugh

‘n explode ‘n say here i am bro i’s the yo in yo face
with a bullet i’s etching yo name on the casing a dum-dum
fo a dum sis or son of a bitch; so go careful you hear take

it easy be cool chill ‘n have a nice day ‘n take care ‘n
remember to follow your heart ‘n believe ‘n don’t worry
i won’t be a stranger     no, i won’t be a stranger

among the ruins ~ 19

god the imbecile smiles
the controls work exactly

as they were made to no
mystery and only the same

game of a bad workman
blaming his tools

alpha

with god
there can be
only man
ipulation and
entrapment

it is only with
out god
that morality
can be

u be lief ‘n eye’ll be leery

born a stone
in one hand, a sap
ling in the other

believing innately
these tools of life are
meaning clear and wise

plant the sapling and
holding to it’s top
most branch ascend

then with the stone
if hindered by doubt
lash out

this the truth
that will confound
the unbelievers’ eyes

lethal abstract nouns

truth   justice   honour   ethics
morality   decency   democracy   god
heaven   hell   knowledge   belief
freedom   liberty   reason   love

pride   sanity   failure   success
sincerity   politics   feminism
culture

political correctness
wealth   religion
common sense
sentience
choice

^{(this post triggered by comments re: "your call" )}

it’s a living

god exists
in any way
that will con
firm the author
ity of those
who describe it

what wilberforce missed

they say big G exists and he
is omni potent still the gentle
breeze of reason blows
so they trim their deafinitions

now they say this means he she
or it can do just any this or that
that’s possible but nothing
that is imp ossible

the trade winds yet blow blood
the owners heap the cuffs
‘n chains ‘n leg irons on and
off their mighty slave to suit

the whether;
hear that SOS william it seems
the big G needs you personally
now more than ever

if facts exist

they are or they are not (having
objective reality, or not) for example

either god exists or god does not exist
unless, of course, god is omnipotent

if god is omnipotent (can do anything)
then, he, she or it could arrange things so

that god exists and at the same time
does not exist

could arrange it so that god, while existing
had never existed

face it
if you can do anything
you can do anything

spastic colon

no questions
no answers
no no no no

endless questions
no answers
yes yes yes yes

how can you
live
with that that that that

it ain’t easy
believe me
it ain’t easy

your call

what’s in a name?	a word, term, or phrase by which something is known and distinguished from other things.
everything	used to emphasize that some thing person or body is the most important thing person or body there is.
begin with nothing
and nothing will be
something	an unspecified or unidentified object, phenomenon, action, utterance, or feeling.
must always have been
but what is its name
the naming of things	unnamed or unspecified phenomena or noumen.
confers power	control and influence over other people, their actions and/or thoughts.
upon those conferring	to bestow from or as if from a position of superiority.
the names
to accept
a name is to accept	to acknowledge that something is true.
the authority	the right or power to enforce rules or give orders.
of the namers
and to accept authority
is to relinquish	to give over possession or control of.
power
to relinquish power
may be your way to
empowerment	to be invested with power.
under orders	a group of people united in a formal way under a rule chosen or imposed.
be careful
either way

easy like sunday mourning ~ 18

so, it’s world peace you want ... jeezus!
you must be a beauty-queen contestant or a pop

personality or pope or some such and way out
of the loop ‘cause even omnipotent god who can

abracadabra do anything it wants clearly doesn’t
want world peace if it did it would have engineered it

so if you really want what god wants keep the flag,
the religious icons, the shells, bombs, bullshit ‘n bullets

flying - ‘cause world peace, no one is dying to see

the least you could do

everyone does their best
no matter what they do
and when it’s done to claim
he or she could have done
better is doo-doo 'cause at
that moment under those pre
cise conditions of being you
whatever you do is the best
you could do at that moment

and under those eggzact con
ditions though you may have
done nothing but breathe
given nothing but breath
done some thing unworthy
disgraceful debasing of life
or death so don’t say or think
i did the best i could do that’s
like saying i exist

and expecting applause
and five star reviews babe
unless you’ve done some
thing extraordinary magic
like telling the truth even
once in your life then say
nothing and die with respect
for the blurred words on your
page then at least you’ll have
done the best you could do

answer came there none

yesterday afterzoom for not the all of it
for juice a small of it i viewed as a fish
with a name unpronounceable xxxept
to another fish of the same game a game
not of its own nor of its parents' devising
but a delineation imposed by an upstart
arrogant alien species intellectually craven
to the point of OBSCENITY - calm yourself!
control! ... breath! dee...ply slow...ly
... yes yes   thank you   sorry i’m uh   ok now

yesterday, for a matter of
or so
from behind the man who stands behind
my failing eyes i viewed as a nude fish in that fish
bowl attempting to climb that sleeping lemon
tree attempted to climb that sleeping lemon
tree by the oak bench drenched in the memory
of your love compassion holding
me as we wept
between the sun
dial and the vine you gave me ever
tender for my seventy-fifth survived

                                  and The Light
The Sea Light The Shine of The Light
on the Lee of the More     shone
bright on the scales of that dazzled fish and i
was happy the blue collar ginger kitty missed it
‘cause the missing indeed was a wondrous lilt
of luck for that fish which kept slipping after slid
ing after losing its gripping after only a metre
or so high the managing up the peeling

                           trunk but more fortune to its
elbow the grass is a comfy cushiony thick clump
around the arse of that old lemon tree by the
sweet lemon view of the deep meditation green
and blue salty and the fish came to no harm
perceptible to me (though perhaps to you with
your senses tuned to the new understanding) it

bumpity-bump to the ground it fell a-
flap flap flapping the time and time and i
could have saved it the strain i
could have told it (my brain mouthed) i
could have told it (my tongue ran aground) i
could have told it to go to no more of that wrack
of t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tttroublesome matter ‘cause
i’d already plucked a juicy brace that early
warming morning in hopes of the taste
of a salad ‘n seafood platter

sum it

chimneys see more

than men

but no one asks

their opinion

remembrance

                    26
                    12
                    04

                    the
                    wave

new year’s resolution

lick her navel
agree the next girl

climb a fable
see the next world

speak up for able
finance cain

build babel
again and again

but before the battle starts
this year agree to fight

only if the leaders toe
the front line naked

with luminous bright red circles
targeting their delicate parts

the StairCase dozen

I

at the foot of the stairs her eyes
tie themselves to balloons
zoom
up
gulp
down
a long way to fall
all
these decisions
below
uneasy
her mouth
calls

II

at the top of the stairs the bulb is broken
still you've got to go
up there
where the air is scarce and you lose you're breath
or is it a fear of the dark stealth
the id in the shadows
on the upstairs landing
there  can you see?
in the corner
standing

III

at the top of the stairs the air is thin
you can high-jump higher
long-jump   l o n g e r
throw the javelin it travelin' as far as maaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars

IV

halfway up or halfway down
it's a matter of how you view
they say    that's                   
a matter of how you feel
about yourself    a lack

or self-esteem intact  you may
log on to therapists.com at play
they serve a desperate need
they say they'll help you heal
yourself but this from me and
nothing to pay

if truth there is
truth is of course
that it's halfway up and down
ok?

V

from the top of the stairs
he hears a roar
nothing new
he's heard it before
still he's scared
at the top of the stairs
scared that daddy will dare to do
the several things he's sworn to do
"i'll fuckin' kill you.
d'you understand?
i'll fuckin' kill you.
and your kid."

(yes toto
i think this is
kansas)

VI

on the second step up
the penultimate down,
he's on his way out one foot
the determined half of a pair
this one mid-air the brown and red   
suitcase weighing
lighter than his heart

he hears the bedroom door-latch click
he hears the bedroom door slam shut
he hears the voice he used to love
he hears her sneering from above
"same as usual, running away!"

he daren't reply
he daren't look up
tired of losing this rough house-game

"you'll be back"

enough is enough and he's had
enough

"you always come crawling back!"

at least he hopes
he has

VII

at the top of the stairs   a pause for effect
arranges her hips   her thighs   her lips
surveys the room   possesses the space
commands each eager upturned face

below
the air is still   we hold our breath    enchanted
by this sequinned pause in our bland progress

her muscles flex
it's time to move a silken leg beyond
the inviting slit

come on    the spell is almost broken
move   before perfection wilts

but even though the stage is set
a voice (her own)
unwelcome uninvited guest
slithers in her head
"not yet..."

VIII

on the fourteenth step
is a field of rhubarb
sorry, not rhubarb
i meant a field of broccoli
and in '93 when the swallows were swooping
we made love properly
in that field of broccoli

IX

the black rat in the red hat
balancing tall on its hind legs
on the balustrade swaying
its tail belayed around the railing
is remarkably calm considering
my gun and the cat
on the landing sat
on the mat

X

stairs uplift
and debase
depending on the cAse
in any event
they lead the way
whichever way you face

XI

you'd better watch her
she's a bit of a stair case

XII

stair well

thanks
i will

a truth about authority

^{(aka: "the courageous ape 2")}

if you know god exists

then you don't have faith

that's the whole point of faith

that you don't know

the tumaini address

there is only one way to “balance our sexuality
with our faiths and our cultures”:  get tough
like in that Peter Finch movie “Network”
stand up, open the doors, and windows, then
calm, cool, defiant, say: “i’ve had enough
i won’t / take their / bull shit / n / e / more”

(sigh)
i should have said “no” to this gig
if Peter, of the white culture, and latterly
of the wheelchair culture, my partner for forty
years, hadn’t said “it might help. so you should
do it” - if he hadn’t said that, i wouldn’t be here

continued here

over the wall ~ 17

never woke up why should i
be different squinted through
the eye of the flaunted needle
read the first few lines on the sign
“no dogs, bog irish, black nogs,
fags or romas and definitively
no poets (unless they feeble)
PS. regular updates to this list"

so stitched up, i out of there
fell from the lowest branch
of the tree of the knowledge
of blood and weasel. squat
seems i prefer my stature to be
still, my shadow jiggers and jives
‘n tells me there is at least a back
ground to our lives - for good
and bad, ‘n the voice warns,
at the same time is the usual;
fee? we be all born mortgaged

in this i found a crumbly
foothold in the wall ‘n scrambled
up looked out upon the endless
garden where there is no blade
to be seen of grass though miles
and miles of the other kind and all
around no tree no cactus rose
nor thorn but waiting on my words
the children-fields expecting 2b sown

well, i owe them so i said, “we have
to make our own and pass it on
knowing all the while we won’t
belong and none of this belongs to us”

and the children, bored, resumed
their mining of the short walk home
and left me and my voice sitting
wobbly on the wall sure that i could,
less if i would or should and knowing
the choice i made would mean
i’d never had one ... (smile)

rex ~ 31

the first king killed to reach
the throne the second killed
to keep it; the third is flying
bomb bays filled with good will
by stealth his kingdom is to come

the insects cried “O where is
the god-child?” the god-child
is here sucking his thumb
eternally, old his mum says
smiling, “it’s a phase he’ll grow
out of ... he’s taken a vow”

the fourth king tired of waiting
went to princeton majored in dust
recycling; he’s too busy to come
to the phone right now

in sight, but still ...

I stand at the edge
and watch you
drowning

is there something else
I should do

erection

the principle is
and you should stick to your principles
the principle is
it would help if you could be
more ethnic     you know
robes, extensions, braids, shades
or camp it up
in a frock perhaps
or slingbacks
you know the drill
they like that in and from
showbiz
it makes 'em feel safe
when you play their game

and they're the ones
you've got to persuade
to buy this stuff
'cause there ain't enough
gay black lovers
of terse dialectical verse
to reverse the decline
in your meagre
fortunes

and the straight white vain are
in the main
so, as a professional
faggot-nigger
could you please try
while of course retaining
artistic integrity
just a little bit
to play the game
for all our sakes
in marketing and sales
mmm?

and gull the dummies
for all they’re worth
lessness and every
penny they got

handles

he be running out of trellis
jelly backed in non-committal trousers
everything in the garden
you follow thought you come to reason
fool, don’t kid yourself, who needs it
truth is mere
opinion be true
believers prove it daily righteously
herding us all to live in the dark

he used to say the way was clear
not easy but it's on the map
somewhere
even if the road be blocked you don't
give in an' you don't give up
but when the engine stalled he checked
found angel fish with a hint of piranha
swimming in the rad

later, back to grass and sky to eyes
he thinks of when
he couldn’t sleep for fear
of the end; but if you’re part of it
it never is and sad or not he has the fixings
to be clung, the while, he ain't no rose
he sure of that with his jelly back

burning the evidence

in the distance
a tree
an oak i think
is clapping
i cannot hear the sound
a laconic
ovation

and is that the wind
on the other side
of the valley or
did the sycamore
i can recognise a sycamore
bow not bend

no breeze
this side but
i can feel
the parched leaves
giggling at my
greenhouse gas
credentials

only secondary blame
this global swarming curse
of identity theft has
opened a vein
of shredding
and raising fires

either way i’m doing my bit
to change the weather

he could have you know ~ 16

had he not given them stone
what would they have thrown
what would they have killed with?
sin problemas: bare fists, bad breath,
sharpened nails oh yes
killers r us and in
ventive too

had he not given them fists
bad breath or nails
had he not made them at all
or had he made them so appalled
by violence that he or she who cast
the stone died then and there from
the shock of the trajectory’s intension
what then (and he could have you know)

had he stepped aside or changed his mind
or, being omnipotent, made himself to have
never been
but left the big bang in place; the child’s
question answered with “he used to,
but he doesn’t”

he could have you know, but chose
to take it to the tabloids and with his shadow
to hide in how easy to avoid being called
to account for crimes far worse
than the paltry campaigns of serial killers

does a god sleep? perhaps on a bed of glass
shards; were physicians overwhelmed by requests
for sedatives from death-camp guards? when
no one comes bearing comfort, why waste breath
or tears? in the war i fled i remember how,
in Craiova, babies learned not to weep

the wrong school

press the button now
fast forward to the part when
we need nothing but each other
to the part when our dream
of finding all we want
has no need to come true

from when the millionaire lead
"if you had to choose (him
or your career) what would you do?"

and though i’d like to think feared
(at the answer) the divorcé sneered, "that
doesn’t say much for your self respect"

(as ever, things one would like to have said)
my words were clear but uncool; i meant
and should have said, "my career";
bottom line after all is i love you
so much it’s a deal-breaker

love in time of war

i need you he says
i love you i'll love you
for ever she knows the sighs
recognizes the pogrom pre
pares the techno-babble
scrabble board

he knows the component parts
and vaguely where to place them
but the hole is a secret
he cannot extract i want you
is the closest he gets to the fact
she's convenient

in practice
he acts the command
ment unbroken to love thy
neighbour till she bleeds

and now she recognises
her mistake (these days to be
forearmed is to be forewarned)
and begins, in the area where
her petticoats would have been,
tearing bloody strips for bandages

me without you

without glue
without due process

truth absolute
an artwork brutal
brittle without you

boo! i'm frightened
is me without you

in britain the arts

equate to viagra
as sex is considered
no part of a heal

thy life and love
is considered no part
in maintaining a heal

thy heart so
the answer supplied
with the bill is why

should the taxed
be required to put out
for others to have "enter

attainment" as a consequence
britain rarely gets
a hard-on

finale

the struggle

now is not

to die a dis

appointed man

green peace - purple persecution

plants have sex
lives - catholic priests
have none the church
perverse of rome
preaching the deviancy
of celibacy
while rabble-rousing
‘gainst healthy homo
sexual love (that’s love)
a natural orientation
widespread in the animal
and human animal world
and a major contribution
to the family, pay
ing taxes for health care
and the schooling of kids
while rarely burdening
the system with offspring;
thus queer appears to be
another of mother nature’s
wizard ways of helping
the family in always difficult
days while the pope’s
die hard anti-life no
condoms ‘gainst hiv / aids
campaign displays
the deadly outward sign
of a perverted inner gaze

know your place

created equal no

matter cannot be

destroyed the form

be rearranged

creation never

has been

it’s recycling

that’s all

who created infinity ?

if we accept that god exists
has always existed
and will always exist
then, we accept as fact
a state of infinite existence

so, why not accept
a state of infinite existence
for the universe
and thus dispense with the need

for god

numero uno

feelings of inadequacy i defeat
with ease first in the kitchen
both taps i turn ‘em on full whack
then to the bathroom for the same

i moved the armchair to the hall and
spend cool evenings listening in stereo
to what makes me better than those
low lives in other numbered worlds

time a-plenty to get it right

so happy there be
no ending due
endorphins ever after

hard to withstand
the shock of suspense
how long can it hold that smile

like a time machine fixed
while the usual gore
ripples by

we get our teeth fixed
eat our sandwiches
drink tea or coffee or lye

how joyous the light
a lesson to us all and see
how quick we learn

friday (evening) in the maze

perhaps there’s been too little death
in my life that soon will be attended
too as being human i could talk
before i could think or wonder

to drop dead on hearing of your lover’s death
of what is that proof?
of understanding?
there will be no understanding
in that, there is no failure

but the building lacks bricks
the bricks lack mud
the mud lacks earth
to live i drink the water
the water lacks

conditions of war, as ever, prevail

the trunk in front of yo face ~ 15

you know him you say?
i think not       
almost anonymous? good grief
you are sooooo out of date
these days we, the saved, know
Who he loves? US
and Who he hates? The people
we hate
and What color he is? Our color

alibi needs he none being beyond
questioning – unless you want a
bullet blown head or a knife sliced
neck or both as return of serve
for your presumption by the way the corr
ect phrase is: people slaughtered like people

so, seems this be another case of my admiration
being outpaced by your denial unlike their
lily-livered hearts which easily keep pace with
that of whatsisname, the merciful, on high
and his pathetically thin skinned vulnerability

how were you to know?
by looking, dodo! the mist? the black
hole disappearances? his alibi
broken; let me say it for you ...
if you are there God, Allah, Jehovah
i'm not surprised you hide, who wouldn't
be embarrassed at such shoddy workmanship

no matter the buttons you push how hard
you press no matter fresh batteries the
channel will not change and you, behind the
sky skulking in celestial underbrush cannot
make yourself smaller than you are

though you've had the good grace to stop
running you cannot escape our light that is
your light blazing upon you wherever you go
a few, at least, of our voices calling “halloo!
halloo!   murderer!   thief!   liar!   cheat!”

the courageous ape [2]

if you know god exists

then you don't have faith

that's the whole point of faith

that you don't know

not enough showbiz

so, 80% debt cancellation for iraq. woooooh!

could africa be next? nooooooo!

eat your hearts out

bob ‘n bono

jacob’s blather ~ 14

at the top of the ladder
another ladder

at the top of that
another one

and so on and on nothing new
and everything

and at the bottom you
wrestling with a change of name

too late
you should never have learned to walk

empty chairs indeed ~ 13

there’s no shortage of quarry and thanks
to the hunter this soil is so blood soaked
it couldn’t be more fertile

so if it’s anybody’s fault perhaps death’s
the riddle birthing the curses and the
blessings though given time it ain’t always
easy to slip a hydrogen molecule between ‘em

perhaps it’s life’s fault? oh pur-lease!
get some backbone and stick it to the source
blaming the oily rag ‘cause you worship
the driver suggests why buddha didn’t name it
... ‘cause he knew the cowards would ... of course

from an absent friend

as to the question
of your late invitation to the feast
i can only suggest that when the peas
pass nearby you discard that fork
and use the ladle and your shoulders
in a dignified manner of course

and at the same time in whatever space
you find grow your own the lord smiling
of the manor is not necessarily your friend
though he be painted new (regularly) in any
event his lord is banked elsewhere
nestled in a web of minted moonlight
hauling on the strings he knows you not
and caring for you less cares you much

at this late hour i’m told my words should be
uplifting (as an ageing playboys' corset?) so
as not to rock the boat i say "uplift yourselves"
and now for those who lack bootstraps
or boots or feet (for example
in afghanistan cambodia or mozambique)
i am your friend

but frightened lazy useless
far away as friends so often are and yet
my words are stronger than my arms and i
am stronger than my fear i have surprised
myself in this and offer this surprise to you

the words they give are what is best
for them to have your heart revere
search out the words they hide therein
lies your salvation and their fear

en passant

no surprise that it took pejorative
makeovers to make liberation
theology and political
correctness
fetching
to us

nice work and you can get it ~ 12

“cross my palm with arrowroot”
she said, her big gold dangly
earrings swaying in sync with
her dangling chins and god
feeling just a mite foolish did
as he was bid and out of thin
air conjured a shower of pow
dered arrowroot each
particle
barcoded
but by several trillion
years past its sell by late
then, all merciful, god
opened his fist and
turned his giant hand
palm up
“ooh my! that’s a big one” she
squeezed, gazing into the chasm
of his life-line, “but confused i
guess one out of three ain’t bad

you‘ll die young twice and live for
ever before you’re born”
and revealing, in these sceptical
times, an understandably touchy side
confided, “before you say bull shit
i so declare: i cannot be wrong a
bout matters i declare i cannot
be wrong about”

Doh! ~ 11

serpent? of course there was
and a river clean   clear

but no apple
no tree

no adam
no eve

the self sees the self

and naturally
slithers away

"never again"

darfur cambodia bosnia rwanda / blessed are the young  / genetic inclinations / words we can trust / USSR Germany   / berlin wall sold to israel / save the planet recycle oppression

playing to the bone gallery ~ 10

it was a time when crows won five
star reviews larks and nightingales
took refuge in the abuse of recreational
arachnids, modified coleoptera, Sniff

The Crows  packed stadia, nightingales
and larks performed to select groups
of weary relatives in front rooms
“they’re too good for success” the

million-selling novelist and critic Phony
Arseone said, “you have to be bland
to appeal to a mass audience” that
winter crows basked with newly installed

central heating paid for in cash larks
and nightingales lacking airfare died
in their hundreds and thousands as in
booming cities far from the coast

twitchers boosted the dumb ‘n base ‘n
boogied to the latest trad rave “killing
still” the soundtrack trad families val
ue almost as much as the stomp

the finger points, the lips sneer ~ 9

in the silence there was
no beginning; the tree falls
whether we see it or not so
no change there then though
we should at least marvel at our
steadfast self-importance

boom! the sound of a smart bird
landing on your daughter, her mother,
your son, your son’s grandfather
run! run! listen to the sound of god
calling from his shiny white mansion
run! run! listen to the sound of god
practicing the language of Urnewspeak
in which every sound is the blasphemous
sound of a god who ate the spare rib ‘stead
of wasting it on ghost woman a phantom need
ing no bone under that burka home and destined
for virginless hell in any event like most of her kind

so the good book Q says; O you reptiles, mumble
all you want ‘bout prophecies you made to make you
king in its stead, to make you  emissary of its dread
the quivering of love’s daily mirror as the sun rises is
the breakfast reading of the tabloid god ripping page
after page after page from his son’s latest work, hissing
give all you have to the poor? yo mother! suffer the little
children? indeed! and scratching in the margin, “do unto
others in case they think of doing it to you!“  wake up and
smell the coffee dodo: the mirror cracked truth’s frost
has never let go

any name is a lie ~ 8

this page was never blank
snow where abominable footprints
had yet to appear was marked
already by perfect geometries

sand, for the pioneer to stay lost in
whispers the answer to puzzled feet
“here i am, the diminishing sign

of an abrasive power” there was always
content here; why overstate the mind
you hardly use when necessity is
the necessary virus we are

uphill, all the way down

the city she wants to burn it to ash
(a laudible ambition) watch the breeze
sweep it away and start again (more
of the same?) her body needs some
where to live to sleep eat warm and
well and tho she’s borne the wilderness
by choice she’ll soon be old infirm
enough to lack the strength to build
a roof to make a bed to bake a loaf
to pump the well reduced she’ll be
to ringing the bell and waiting and
hoping so if she wants to burn
the city down to ash and start again
she’d better hurry up or study zen

Q

if the best way to communicate with people
is in their own language
how, using their own language,
do you persuade people
that their language
is absurd

alternative suggestion

let’s stop fighting
for what we believe

because of what we know
let’s stop fighting

seasons greetings with soft weapons

i watch the wildebeest
and zebra nervous scenting
lion and wonder if they’d
only think they’d turn and
march in their millions
slow determined strong
en masse and run
the hungry carnivores off
like what we need is the link
ing of international arms (no
the other ones you idiot!) skin
and muscle flesh and bones
the supranational solidarity of
the bereaved; only then will we
all be home for ramadan
christmas hanukkah and divali

boogie! boogie! boogie! - do the shrub!

Allawi agree, history is history and past
is past

and yes, we need to start operations
fast

to write a new chapter and look to the
future

but ain’t it gross and in no way wise
to keep

in charge the same guy who lied the why, then
under-resourced the force

and then, from on high, destroyed thousands
of innocent iraqi lives

all the while smiling that “i’m so lucky
and you’re so dumb” smile?

and let’s face it kong
fifty two percent prayed then proved
he ain’t wrong

Wired News | Iraq's Allawi Seeks to Calm EU '...

th is la nd – supple mental

in this land, denial, where
hubris, cowardice, ignorance
and fear reign as saviors

belief is honored though
verification is out of favor
and logic and critical thinking
are denounced as subversive
behaviors

concepts revered by the
founding fathers
free thinker
liberal
intellectual
are curse words of contempt
dangerous ineffectual

in this juju land where facts
are flushed like shit on a tissue
while faith in absurdity is breast
fed gaga! googoo! truth
is still the issue; remember
forty eight percent said “no”

so, in this laughing stock land
with the world's biggest gun
what’s new?
the struggle continues
get on with it

4 cast

america is afraid

given an inch the shrub

takes five miles

don’t expect a change

after all, no different

a degree of arrogance is essential

without it, knowing one's place

and face in the universe,

no one could speak

nor stand

nor bear to live

man if esto bien

In the battle of relativism versus absolutism
i make my position absolutely clear

i believe, but cannot claim to know
that, in human affairs, there is right
and wrong, likewise good and evil

i believe, but cannot claim to know
that the application of these labels
to disparate circumstances is
absolutely relative

now we be spiritual, what else?

the universe can be
only as it is

there is no need
for god in this

weep if you will
laugh if you must

for good or ill
we are all there is

in us

th is la nd

in this land of Get over it!
where the language of abracadabra
reigns supreme where we're all
getting on with our lives with such
positive success that bereavement's
defeated in four easy steps after which
we'll have come to terms
having first achieved closure
the primary aim to move on
not mull over
remembering our dead, if at all,
with affection (mild) and never again
with unseemly pain, anguished, self
indulgent, mediterranean calls

in this land of equals where no one is better than
but everyone’s better than anyone foreign
and we all feel as deeply as everyone else
(to suggest otherwise would be deeply offensive)
where beliefs be sacrosanct ... knowledge contested
beliefs be un-attacked ... knowledge bested
the ark was too small was the dinosaur's down fall
and its all too complex, meshed in sync for mortals
to brain-link and surely, if we don't understand
that's proof positive of God's organising hand

in this land of the balanced and fair where we're rid
of all bias and bile where today its nigh on impossible
certainly rare to find sexists, heterosexists or racists
(so my white heterosexual male acquaintances say)

in this land where truths (must be some) of history
win bronze or silver to the gold of docu-mystery
though that don’t matter - history's long gone
we gotta move on, not waste time looking back
'cause that would be negative and no way for us
we're all HIV positive: happy in vacancy - after all,
digitally speaking, Nanking, Dachau, Sharpeville
and Mi Lai probably never happened anyway

in this land where (instant replay) more women
and girls are murdered each year by red blooded
heterosexual men than people are killed each year
in this land by terrorist violence or illegal drugs
and we're waging a war costing trillions of dollars
'gainst terrorist violence and illegal drugs and gay
marriage is killing the family

in this land of believers with cool common sense
where the best way to go is to follow your heart
presupposing, of course, we’re all doing our best
(to suggest otherwise would be really offensive)
'cause our hearts can't direct us to anything wrong
even out of self interest the vision we follow is all
for our kids though we're leaving 'em cancers and
poisonous oceans, depleted uranium deserts of deficits
(and sand) though nothing conclusive's been proven
to show that those purple bruises on their innards
came from our hands

in this land where, to give us our due, never have
so many been screwed by so few
... why bother to do?

on a hopeful note
you do know the answer
don’t you?

herb of grace

it’s been a bad year

the next one will probably be worse

sometimes it’s hard

to state the obvious

21st century blues

in reprisal
perhaps for some ill
judged act of kindness

on a dark street
in a dim night
a woman begs “help me!”

and you search
around for some one
else and of course
there’s only you

reluctant holding all
you’ve ever lied for
the truth

again the woman begs “please,
help!” and there it is the jism
“i could if i wanted to
but i won’t”

say it, believe it, live it
moving on: the new
heroism

multi-faith initiative

in britain and the usa
introspection is viewed
as self-indulgence
while strangely no nation
except perhaps north
korea is more intro

spective than the usa
a country whose people
are unaware of the ex
istance of other nations
realising that there is a
terra incognita but bel

ieving it to be populated
by simulacra, computer
generated avatars at
worst and at best by
golems half formed
who do not realise yet

that they too are
americans as islam
believes everyone
is a muslim though
some don’t know it yet
which does not excuse

their apostasy nor
save them
from God’s wrath

j’accuse !

in the arbeit of verse it’s easy
to see the nazis were liars

you cease slicing the lines before
you do more harm
stack it in the “finished” folder
a constant reminder of your short
literary comings and you have one
certainty ... it’s over!

you’ll never birth another
you talentless phony
you’re through, dead in the water
get back head hung low to simple
repetitive unskilled manual labour
the only thing you’re capable of
unless you enter politics or religion
and lie for a living hell you’ve been
doing that with every line you write
(call that pittance a living?) “arbeit
macht frie” my arse!

and now: an important message

if you don’t already have “WMD’ease”
i suggest you get some
fast

i mean these days all you have to do
is blink at a certain nation and it’s
“hey buddy, you lookin at my ass?!”

‘n a smart-stealth-laser-guided-cluster-head-butt
won’t be far behind : you’re a sovereign nation
you have the right to protection from regime alteration

you have the right to discriminate
with blood if you wish against neighbours
or your own citizen scapegoats, after all
we all need someone to diss ‘n hate
without fear of invasion

and still be respected as nations like China, Turkey
Saudi Arabia, Israel, Burma,Thailand, Algeria,
Kazakhstan, Russia, Indonesia, Sudan, Australia
the good old US of A

I say, if you wanna screw with your part
of the globe you need protection
but that respected Johnny the pious pope says
condoms missa da function so, to avoid liberation

with extreme unction ...
be sure, be sure, be sure, be sure
to have weapons of mass destruction

a near life experience : chapter 1

This rummaging through her body
would have been alright had she been out
shopping at the time. Had she been out
shopping at the time she could have carefree
minded home to find she'd been used, and yes
if she'd so wanted she could have found
amongst the broken brains, de-cartoned dreams
a family pack of outrage, 'though experience
advised a nebbish to feel merely discomfort
and check the feeling in at the lost and found en
route to something or somewhere else, to be
forgotten 'til the next event - had she been out
shopping at the time

But she hadn't been. She was here, present
while the clumsy slavering beast was flounder
ing around in her cellar with occasional forays
to the first floor (egyptian hips and farmyard
impressions diverting any attempted excursions
to the attic) and while he was busy down there
she couldn't help but notice her kinship with that
chilling group who after being killed in auto
carnage appeared as the silent crowds
that gathered ‘round subsequent street theatre
that they themselves had engineered

And so, she found herself, while Howard was having
a one man Mexican wave in her stadium, she found
herself hovering, looking down through his body
at her corpse, and as the prey of a wasp that plays
with life in terms of death and lays it's eggs in the body
of it's spider sometimes caterpillar victim paralysed
by that venomous sting, she lived ... aware,
as the eggs hatched, hunger, need, and the larvae
feeding their innocent way with her vitals

How, why, was she so involved with him in this
ritual now for several months in what one did
in order to cement / create a "meaningful relationship"
and if in its equation only one was having
a "meaningful relationship" well, fifty percent wasn't
such a bad success rate likely more than all the rate
you could expect, and she had to admit this bit was nice
relaxing Howard seemed to have accomplished
whatever it was he'd been attempting and was being
what she really wanted him to be: a security blanket
two contented people, Howard, drowsy, lying on her
left hand side, in her arms, his head cradled against
her left breast (when he lay on her right hand side
with his head cradled against her right breast it was ok
but not as comfortable as this) this was perfect
she could lie here like this for ever warm
protective needed

so Howard rolled away in a smooth gymnastic
move sat on the edge of the bed and said " hooh !
need a drink. d'ya have any juice ?"
"yes, there's grapefruit in the fridge"
"don't you have orange?"
"no, sorry"
"oh, ok, water will do ... d'you want some?"
"no, thanks, I'm alright"

When the bell tolls, you're usually too far away to hear it

custard cooked with water

if you’re drinking of spinning a poem woven
with similes: the night birthed like …
our hearts barked like … his face drank like …
her life knifed like … please don’t
it’s been done five hundred billion times
and is weak and irksome as when i say
“i love you” on a one night stand

if you’re mulching sculpting verses immersed
in bracken, brambles, briar, hills, the sky,
rowan, flowers (of any kind), falling leaves,
streams, eagles, “sea surf gulls the shoal of cliffs
the cliffs grass swarms of blaebellwids and wee
flo’ers” or the ocean, to bolster your motion
to the notion “poet”… don’t
it’s been done like dysentery and writers who do it
deserve to be flogged and lashed to hurdles
and dragged through the streets being pissed
on by the citizenry who, to ensure full flow,
have loosened their girdles

likewise poets who curse us with verses adorned
with flaxen haired maidens in pursuit of unicorns

and if you believe (no matter whether deeply, sincerely
or passionately) that your poems should be impersonal,
detached, don’t bother to try, it’s a no win denial
(like “I will not be political” ‘s a political child)
.n the effort results in dull and craven though, sadly,
profitable as a politicians “vision” to give us more
and tax us less as your verses tax more
and give emptiness

and if your five stanza poem meanders for two
before serving the meat or worse the last
couplet desert … tear it up or delete!!
it’s been done at least a zillion hundred
billion trillion times and is a legitimate
motive for this writer to commit
justifiable homicide

apart from that
feel free

divertimento

sans 1
the 3 leg stool
will fall

sans fall
autumn will be
a noticeable difference

sans difference you
and everything else
would be me

sans me you
could be doing
something useful

of mice and mice

the more nationalistic the nation
the more difficult it is for the cit
izenry to admit that their flag wa
ving state has made a mistake. Ra
ther than face that take, the “pat
riots” would prefer to repeat and
compound the error ‘cos to change
their nations tenor would be tacit
admission that their national right
eousness is fake. One has to wait
for a future generation distant e
nough from that error to be able
to improve their nation’s behaviour
without feeling they have collectiv
ely lost face. unfortunately in the
meantime we have to put up with t
hem shitting and pissing uncontroll
ably all over the place

the visit

sometimes we miss the chance
to say “goodbye” sometimes it falls
apart for those alive life is an east
european art house movie, far
from that farting addiction
to resolution (the cowards
view that says “it’s good
only if it offers hope”)

most times there’ll be no ending
unhappily not even an unhappy
one let alone the sun rising
or settling in a spiritual sky
credits rolling by most
times unhappiness
one degree less
than another
is the best

possible.
she says “i don’t know what you mean
you say you’ve loved him all these forty
years and he’s loved you; i’ve never
known this ‘love’ you speak of so
i can’t ... i’ve looked and seen
my heart, it’s made of stone
or mostly dark matter
like the universe”
“can’t what?”
i wonder
as she makes
another pot of tea

later, sipping in mute tones between
particles i paint her two years old
sat on his knee that elegant,
black, magic circus man
bereft of dry keeping
spells “mummy’s
gone to sleep
patricia,
mummy’s gone
to sleep”

immunity pays

we have no need of guilt
illy concealed mass graves

to be discovered later by
condemning haters of democracy

we leave civilian dead
as litter in the streets

ignored by us their numbers
unmarked as are their names

get over it

i have no sympathy
for the dead

it’s an excuse
a copout, still

what can you expect
from self-indulgent

folk who’d let
themselves go

to that extent
no

i have no
sympathy

for the dead

dresden chic

GAZA

GROZNY

GUERNICA

FALLUJAH

Dresden chic

Dresden chic

howdy doody

thing is
i never knew what
was going on
from the moment the other kid
said “hang your coat on this peg”
to the day, eleven years later,
when that shithead hanley (comedy
careers master) said  “I know your
sort,   you just don’t want to work;
you’ll never do anything
or be anything ...
now get out!” like i said
from first to last
i never knew what
the fuck
was going on

course i’d won a bunch of medals
for sports: gymnastics running (long
and short) jumping (long and over)
climbing ropes and leaping horses
done well at rugby and boxing
oh yes and throwing things
even won a book for english and still

i didn’t know what i was supposed
to do    looking up at mr clark (or
was it doherty? same hitting)
with my stupid trusting eyes in reply
to his “what would you like?” i said
“could i have a puppy please?” - christ!
what a dickhead even aged eight
and in a rare moment of kindness
he said something like “well,
i don’t think we can do that but
would you like a book

instead?”
of “look kid, don’t fuck with me!
this is a school not fucking disney!”
but he didn’t say that
he helped me out
of that self-knit-razor-wire-jacket
d’ya see? i was so dumb i couldn’t
even fool that bastard, whichever
one it was, that i was taking the piss
didn’t even know what the piss was

so here we are thirty years on
just me and you naked in bed
‘n  i’m asking for a puppy
too dumb to know
that all the puppies died
long ago

not enough soap to wash your hands

funny how it starts only when you get some
you hit ‘em     hit ‘em     hit ‘em again
never mention their pain then an angry
hits you back 'n grabs your attention sudden
ly you discover the geneva convention

john wayne said “never apologise, it’s a sign
of weakness” and you believed but his yellow
ribboned hero was a coward in this manly creed

from vietnam and nicaragua to helping
saddam “the enemy of your enemy” survive
with enough funds to party at halabja

from years with your gatt-booted-foot hard
(alongside ours) on the necks of the poor
to the eleventh of the ninth seventy three,
when allende, elected democrat
ically in your back yard, was murdered
to make you feel easy

the innocent civilians duty is to die gratefully
un-tallied, as collateral damage, when your shells
and bombs fall to protect their oil

as your christians say when they’re roasting
faggots “love the sinner hate the sin” so on
september 11th i say thanks for your help
i grieve for your dead and i always will but
i can’t forget the innocent dead you
“the good guys” killed

tag, you're it!

the next time somebody tells you
to follow your heart or to
go with your feelings
or your gut
punch ‘em in the face

no warning
just punch ‘em in the face
and when they look up at you
with that look    the look
betrayed people use
that “how could you do this
to me? I thought you liked me”
look

tell ‘em “i did what you said,
is that wrong?”
then, walk out of their lives

with only another billion or so
years left before the planet dies
we don’t have time for bullshit

do dead dogs worry their bones?

starting is the thing
if i can start i can
usually come up with
something worthwhile

and worthwhile is not bad
and not bad is OK
which is good
and good
is very good
which is great
and great
is unlikely

question is
do i believe myself
to be a good poet
and the answer is
of course i do
if i didn’t believe me
a good poet do you
think i’d keep on
writing this shit?

do the shake

in a recent poll
of stags .n does
with IQs bigger
than their ovaries
.n gonads
ninety nine
percent of goes
chose this grit as wise:

"to be

and not to see ...

that is the answer"

and i scribing
chimes in the dark
hear darker
laughter

baaaa!

so it’s creeping up on me
all the time   i know that
but it don’t obsess me

sheep think "grass" not
"wolves" til on a shifting
breeze they smell ‘em

stealthing up   i think
my life in love 'n sex
'n verse 'n food 'n booze

'n when i hear that cutting
blade a-swishing through
the underbrush my head

goes up my eyes go wide
i sniff the wind 'n hope i’m
not the one who gets it this
time when we run

puke ta take out

ok i accept
you don’t accept
unsolicited
manuscripts
in your literary mag

still it’s hard to accept
you solicited the crap
you accept in your literary mag

limitations

if “tough” is all you got
it ain’t much use outside
of battle or war or
somesuch endeavour

so i guess if “tough”
is all you got
you got to carry
the war in your heart
forever

textual construct 5

one pace back she steps aside
to let the rolling wheelchair’s
twitching burden pass

her granite face says why the fuck
don’t things like that stay hid inside
some institution we don’t need

to see its crooked body twisted legs
and arms out of con jerking trol back
home in bed her mother wets herself

again, she wets the shit stained sheets
her daughter’s been a long time gone
but may be kind enough to wipe her clean

or nearly so tomorrow
or the next day
or the next

answers 2

philosophy is

the attempt

to discover

one thing that is

(incontrovertibly

true)

the attempt in vain

a necessary pain

answers 1

belief is trust

knowledge

a myth


naturally I expect

few to believe this

questions

for years

its been on my mind:

how can a blind man

blind from birth

know that he's blind

uriah heep - but I mean it

on the face
of the sun
living

and when the rains
come
dissolving

insubstantial
the tracks
of ants on desert
sandscapes
be
deeper than mine
at low tide

which makes your
powers
of observation
remarkable

as is your persistence
in loving
me

home is the hero

it isn't easy to fuck
when your head's stuffed
with corpses
toasted
skulls dressed
in shreds
of flesh
brains
dripped down
village walls
so many
men
sent
by those who stayed
at home present
limp dicks
and lead filled
hearts
to lovers
needing
hard body
parts

revelations 1 2 3

his father beat him til
the hope fell out
his uncle kissed
his tears away and
fucked him gently
now and then
his mother said “don’t
rile your dad its
your own stupid
fault you know what
he’s like” and
he cowered
at school so
got beaten again
and again
till his skin got thick
and thicker til
the day he hit back
first; and, observing bully’s
tears, knew he was normal

eating his way through

someone round has sat
at this table there is a fetch
ing dent in the waiters smile
he speaks little english

i, though more european than
little english, speak less catalan
we meet in frequently i eat
my mistakes with relish

the boiled pig's cheeks a rude
revelation saved by roasted
vegetables of gold we smile
to cushion uncertainty

the soup, the cod in roquefort sauce
calcots, cargols y habitas con pernil
no need to worry having fallen
amongst hospitality in time of war

s m a l l

funny how lack of self-
esteem can lead to pre-
eminence in office
take that thatcher bitch

for whom it was inadequate
to win but life or death vital
that opponents be seen
to lose  a child with a chip

so big I wonder to whom
she was so desperately trying
to prove her worth perhaps
the mother we’re told she

never speaks of perhaps
beloved dad was closer
than he should have been
I guess we’ll never know

and el presidente dubya bush
I’ll never forget that paris press call
fall with jacques chirac 2002 when,
in what seemed an act of welcome

respect, a journalist american
asked the president french
a question in his native tongue and
received from bush a curled lip nasty

nya-na-na-na-na!
so we know some french … well yah
boo sucks - its teacher's pet - what's
wrong with good old american?!

showing there and then exactly
what is wrong at the wrong
end of a good place at the top
of the monkey puzzle tree

boorish rude ungracious by extension
to chirac his press-call partner and
something more, the fear of being made
to look small which wasn’t happening at all

till dubya made his move that old familiar
playground call and sang that bully boy song
that removes the lion and makes the hyena king
“hey fellas! he’s different! … let’s get him!!”

emptying rituals

realising the best of her life is lacking
in substance she chooses to cease this seeking
solace in memories of a childhood that never
existed; she chooses to make these days the best

while accepting that the combined efforts of attempting
good and attempting evil has birthed a world of rape
and hunger, the callous murder of women, children, men

and other animals; all this in pursuit of advantage gained
by the appliqué of reduction (reducing others being easier
than enlarging oneself) - in this way small men rule microbes

preparation

we had
an agreement

the sun rose
daily

and you
would wake

i should have known
one morning

both the sun
and i

would wait
and wait
and wait
and wait

reason enough

with blood in his eyes in his ears, draped

in rivulets and lakes down and across

his face his hair caked his clothes

soaked he writes about how the baby

falls on hard ground stands on wobbles

walks towards him   doesn't cry

favourite things

there’s a lot to be said for suicide
I’ve considered it a valid alternative at
least once a week since I was eleven

or twelve years old always
irritates me when its taken as something
special in the media when some public figure

(or a complete unknown, till something bad or bizarre
happens to ‘em to get them in the tabloids) says
something like “I was soooo depressed I even

considered suicide”. “well so bloody what!”, or some such,
grenades in my head “if you haven’t considered that killing
yourself will solve all of your problems you must be

dumber than a black republican” on the other hand
self-hatred is a common effect of telling people from
childhood that they’re crap ‘cause they’re gay, or not

white, or not male, or not born with all their mechanics
working in the prescribed fashion; and though there’s a
considerable force working to persuade people that critical

thinking is a crime or at best a wishy washy, soft, un-manly
(even for a woman) kinda thing to do, that’s no excuse though
its certainly a reason; besides, amongst my many favourites

I’m proud to declare that I’m passionate about baked
bean omelettes and cheddar cheese smothered in golden
syrup, but I only eat ‘em about once in every five years!

for an honorable fan of a dishonored man

get on the bus george 'n tell me you'll save
me a seat for rapture 'n a job for life paid
in wages of winning the battle of babylon
meanwhile in the mean time a sports-
utility-vehicular-penthouse-address
(if I want one) to go with the pool 'n
the house in the hills (if i want one) 'n most
importantly respect as "just one o'
the guys" 'n the title "the best" 'n a seat
on the right hand of God 'n gas cheap as
snowflakes in reykjavik

stand with the flag george 'n tell me you're
just like me not clever but savvy a family
man who believes in God not some liberal
intellectual atheist faggot 'cause that's what they
must be to be different from me 'n that's fair
'n balanced as any red blooded american can be

stand tall at the podium george smile 'n say
you love this country 'n Jesus does too
that this is the greatest nation any year any
hour any day any where tell us we're good
tell us we're really good 'n our hearts
are pure 'n we'd never do anything false, unjust,
dishonest or cruel 'cause that's not how we
in the usa live, endure 'n play; tell it like it is george
'n i'll give my son's life so you can have your way

graves unremarked

how brief the passing

between fighters

for freedom grasping

liberty before wresting

the same from someone else

for the engine

and you you jerk
what category should we put you
and your stuff in refine your parameters
your skills your offerings

I guess its always been the same
I’m trying to be in “good work” but I don’t
suppose that’s precise enough to
help you in your search

house painting

I've been painting the house for a week now the inside walls its a steady job I dilute the paint then I load my brush and apply it in strokes this way and that at different angles so's I get no discernable lines just a flat matt finish but because I've diluted the paint the finish is blotchy uneven not perfect which gives the wall life and movement 'bout six square inches at a time 'though of course its not square that bit that I've done and I keep applying section by section small by small little by little and before I know it I've done one wall then I move the ladder and paint and brushes to another part of the room and start over it was this way that Hitler began his path to power and pain but I've no wish to invade the Sudetenland no need to conquer the world I've got you you've got me I'll keep painting and in a while the kettle will boil and we'll have a cup of tea

double Oh Oh

forty two of the forty three chrome
and cane chairs on the café caracas
veranda are nothing more

the forty third a secret
agent in disguise terrified
he’s forgotten the magic

words that will
change him
back

an other story 'bout sex 'n deaf

again she thrusts
the nine inch kitchen

knife into the still body
of her husband bill

now drained of tears
mary beth her daughter

pleads "please stop, it
wasn't daddy

it was your brother
uncle danny”

© zay zoss

the trials of arbustobin (laden with carlyle)

this is a death even top gun the draft dodger
should recognise    the death of wolf-tit's shoes
fit to a lame disguise
the death of a burning bush
                  lies extinguished by lies
to his mother's distress (perhaps)
                  and the amusement of flies

this is a death we should pre-emptively applaud
kill civilians for peace before they enlist
and wage war     strangle babies at birth
better not they might fight
best kill from a distance by stealth
and in flight

this is a death bad poets will love
twenty of twenty-two lines about fields
and forest, brambles and briar, streams
fallen leaves, idyllic scenes
ignore the betrayals, the grooming of kids
to the drug    allude, obliquely
(in latin or greek) to the knife, perhaps
to the slice    definitely to the blood
yes this is a death bad poets will love

this death is woven of puppy dogs’ tails
and a gag wracking stench as their mothers wail
giving birth to maggots, shit and lice
this is a death sans sugar and spice
(though you may detect a few saccharine mice
armed with depleted uranium tipped harpoons
a rum-condi-sending device)

this is a death with God on both sides
two-faced as usual all things to all tribes
for the best comic writing embrace the absurd
as we bite off our tongues, tear out our eyes
rip flesh from our arms and legs
can you blame it for laughing as we praise its word
this is a death divinely absurd

© ozz 25-07-’03

the mantra theists cannot master

i don.t know

i don.t know

i don.t know

i don.t know

i don.t know

i don.t know

i don.t know

on hind legs

like all
six billion
and more
and growing
this small not
knowing if god
existing be unlike
most, ascared of no
limit, this single cell
ain.t afeared to admit it

praise where praise is due

men of colours .n countries various
afraid of death intent, what else, on living
long    believe the cure for AIDS is in
the taking of a virgin quim

so babies young as four or five
months old are viewed by these afeared
as mewling miracle cures repeat
prescriptions provided by Him

and lo, when HIV says "life or death"
the fucking of an infant is as natural
to ignorance as your next breath and who
amongst us has the right to sling

that primal stone when admired vicars
in christ chasing nobel peace prizes
deride safe sex proclaiming condoms
don’t work against that virus violencing

meanwhile, unwanted for sale or rent,
scientists and doctors eminent get less
press and TV than that self-proclaimed keeper
of the keys to “God’s” ablutive testament who

shepherding the hale and horny to an early demise
basks un-reviled, admired as wise and shining in
celebrity bright as that driven snow white expensively
dry cleaned robe a sign of death in asian iconography
here an outward sign of inner vacancy

in light of this, your condemnational
invective is best directed not to the rapists
of those diapered prick teasing babes, but
instead to those well fed well dressed
crimson white and purple robed executives of

Papists plc
San Pietro's
Vatican City
Death by Dogma
Italy

however, keeping galileo in mind,
it would be best for your temporal health
to expect no immediate reply

all together now

In an age when we all know right
from wrong and live every note
of that righteous song
when none of us is racist, sexist,
heterosexist, ageist, disabled-ist or
any other "-ist" 'cept those who know,
by their reading of events, that to be so is best

when none of us is unfair, and all of us
care and those who believe are justified
in that belief because they believe and all
are intelligent seekers after knowledge,
truth and the call; when we are, en masse,
well informed and constitute sophisticated
electorates in political fora, strong in touch
with our nations past, we know, each one
of us, that ours was glorious

and as we're all doing "the best we can"
and those with kids would never do
anything to harm one; citizen,
in this pearl of all possible worlds
you richly deserve to doff your hat
and pat yourself, "passionately", on the back

but in an age when almost all of us are fair
-minded, decent, honest and hard-working
its a shame a small minority of bad apples
grappling with the good can so successfully
disrupt the barrel; as you know, bad apples
cannot be repaired, remade crisp and fresh
their rotten-ness cannot be redressed:
best to ex 'em before they infect the rest

make no mistake

in
a
totalitarian
state
it's
easy
to be
an
innocent
civilian

discomfitingly
its
impossible
in
a
democracy

the minimum

courage is all we lack

all? resilience, fortitude

perseverance

but never resignation

resolve never to be resigned

nor pragmatic; promise yourself

that, at least

the hours

sad women

dying at length

men attending

sans understanding

true or false

it matters little
that something is true
or not

til someone says
you must live a certain way
because they

believe
something is true
or not

the courageous ape

the only religions

worthy of respect

are those commencing

with the following

essential text ...

"brothers and sisters

believe me when i say

we have, at least,

a fifty-fifty chance

of being wrong

now, let us pray"

the courageous ape [4]

as god knew

what Judas would do

in the final accounting

who betrayed who

the courageous ape [3]

an omnipotent God that needs me

to worship him / her / it

is a God lacking in self-esteem

and therefore deficit

the way forward

initiative is all
no need to deliver
we merely announce
an initiative
BANG!
and we cruise ‘cos the dummies assume
some “when” down the line we’ve delivered
imp li mented
and when they find out bugger all
has been done
that substance is needless
appearances all
that we take but don’t give
that the cake never rises
do we cringe? we do not
nor do we panic
and nobody has to be whipped
nor resign nor feel bad
nor embarrassed when quizzed
in searching interviews
NO
we merely agree
something has to be done
state the problem at length
(‘cause it takes up the time)
say we’ve listened
addressed several public concerns
then deliver the mantra
“we’re not complacent …
there’s more to be done”
and in sync with that prudent
responsible nothing
announce
an initiative
dum di dum dum

where are they now ?

damn that Sadmad Insane
grew the ego and kurds away
that weapons of mass distraction man
had more WMDs than israel
(believe that if you can)

and these are lambs for abraham
trapped in a bush that does not burn
(tho it makes the sound)
that ran as fast as daddy.s money allowed
from vietnam … hot not to trot
and glad to chad, he.s elcon presidente man
able to leap-frog reason with a single bound

it.s Super Dubya - UN resolution action man:
to Sadmad Insane, “comply”,“comply”,
but Sharon the Dong can just walk on by
with teflon stealth past 242 .n 338
seems el presidente is selectively deaf
(though familially not to bin laden wealth) and
of course there.s no risk to dubya.s health

so gung-ho to turn other people.s daughters
and sons into orphan-bakers, widow-makers,
prisoner abusers, body-bag fillers .n baby killers

commander in chief from a far off land of good
honest people supportive he stays in touch
with our boys fighting in the sand long distance
on the bone stroking a democratic missile
hard .n throbbing in his hand

the democratic ideal

Palestinians and Iraqis fail to see the light / with democracy they can vote
for whoever we like

ingrates

we came we saw we liberated y'all
why don't you love us

saddam has gone
we slapped the man who done you wrong
why don't you love us

your men are free
to follow imams slavishly
your women with glee
to wear the burka fashionably
you march you shout
you tell us heroes out! out! out!

we killed some of you, that’s true,
but not like hitler killed the jews

have you forgot the countless
despicable acts
of torture, rape, the halabja
gas attacks

through sand .n smoke .n clear blue skies
with shock and awe and a minimum of gore
we dropped with laser guided precision your chance
to live by democratic decisions
but walking in your eyes
we meet distrust and hatred for us
have you forgot
we gave some of our lives

we came we saw
we motherfucking liberated y'all
why don’t you love us
goddammit
LOVE US !

what violence is

if you build your cities on my land
that is an act of violence
         
if you bar my family from “return”
but welcome yours with open arms
from wherever they were born
that is an act of violence
         
if you copyright the sinews, bones
the cells, the blood, the atoms of my body
that is an act of violence
         
if you copyright the food we’ve grown
for thousands of years of sweat and learning
struggle and scrape that is an act of violence

if you kill a child with a machete slash
another with a blow from the butt of your gun
then (your pockets bursting with grain)
you leave a third to starve to death
which of these is not violence
         
if you kill the river that feeds my land
my children and my future history
that is an act of violence
         
if “innocent civilians” you call yourselves
then vote democratic and free for any of these
that vote is an act of violence and you
a legitimate target
         
to stop the war religion gives
to stop the war that greed lives
to stop the testosterone initiative
to stop the killing of innocent kids
first, stop the denial of what violence is