la tsar bomba

the big anise hit
unloading and
curdling the atmosphere
took us up with it

two dreams-
up in smoke
the discourse on the method
the discourse on immortality

just fifty short years ago -
"so many men,
such little time"
the revolution has barely begun

emerging from the mess
in round glasses – the messiah
and in Spanish boots – the cowboy
both blew their minds, later on

things are less precious in the 21st
mundane problems like
war, depression, drought
don’t make a gestalt crisis moment

the bomb got folded into
the blancmange of modern life
with peace, drugs, credit cards
and it was like cynics won the battle

the same guys who wore bowler hats
now get around in jags
I like both disguises
I recognise the person inside them

it is the comfort zone
that kills us
our failures
are what make us foolproof

we are so used
to being on top
we have become plastered
to the debt ceiling

becoming unstuck
eventually
as we fall
we will realise the freedom we have bought

the brush of the breeze
will be invigorating
and after the collision with the ocean floor
we will lie in a dream, looking up at the watery moon

that’s what I predict –
a funfair of our own demising
without fanfare
plummeting through still air

life is pain only

why
endure the suffering to the end
when the disease kills us always
the living-disease

such perfect pleasure
such purest pain
like poison pills, insecticide
pistols, bullet holes, penises

bereavement in a blister pack
an opportunity for success – pop! –
into the silver blue pool – pop! –
slitting the dolphin open with razor blades

plush blue blush of blood
poison water into the abdomen
a half cup of apple seeds
a pre-pubescent epiphany

to gush away
from the agony
of your unendurable beauty
is the answer in soliloquy

obsama

president for a day
arrives in town to
deliver the spiel
unpack the pharmaceuticals
wemember me well

all of us passing into history
so fast
pending colliding with some
enlightenment moment
in the meantime suffering

the rich dig deeper into
the guts of time
etched into the core
we waifs wash off so soon
we are here to ourselves only

bullet dunked in blood
amphitheatres of war and
human learning meshed
being meets unbeing
and knows itself

the purple anniversary
of our consciousness
is conscripted to the favourite
enemy of the people
and flown away

waking on a lonely beach
I find that it all has been a dream

now

i used to
feel sad
 but the new moon
has changed how i feel
about everything

nones

witness and egg
an unlikley union
to facedown
move a motion
on the murderer

turning tables
with sharp edges
slice through
the biographer
and his brother

brown blood
of old glory hole
the one last gash
made the miser
none the wiser

a nice day

cup of tea
piece of wine
an herb
bring peace to me
in pieces one by one
farthing by farthing
i swallow myself
and time dilates
into two halves

beneath the trees
a speck of silver
liver waves on the river
mostly in peacetime
reading the paper
i divulge - there is the secret

plastic anemone
making music in me
bellevue in parchment
hometime marking time
the chairs on the table
the feathers in the air raid
squadron of pigeon
father of bigotry
the trees fatherless
motherless
childless paperless
salsify verdigris

i am opening a letter
from my mother
while the war rages on
inside is another letter
and another inside that
each report from
the front line
falls dismembered
into a chasm of
peace time

the success of failure

in the last few months
i've lost a battle
with myself

on some level
i resigned -
to the good life

i handed in my immortality
and got mortality back
in a skullcap

but immortality
still awaits
with blind eyes

every day
it perches
on the knife edge

like a witch doctor
screening cultured embryos
for schizoidal types