a speckled stone
round as the moon
is balanced
on the temple gate
under that tree
lies the man who placed it there
centuries ago
silently he awaits its fall -
his final act upon the earth
Issue #165 (July 19, 2026)
4 weeks ago
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
anonymous posts
i am not going to bother removing anonymous comments about porn
like barnacles they stick to my enormous iron form
this is not a poem
like barnacles they stick to my enormous iron form
this is not a poem
Monday, August 17, 2009
for adrienne
17.08.09
do you hear that sound? a very distant bell
an alarm in another room - muffled human beings' lovemaking
there will come a day soon when we will eat these words
and bludgeoned be subdued by the natural gag in us
the waves from two revolutions are to collide in the middle of the ocean
and no-one will know for battered fish do not float
a soldier lifts himself onto the field of your passion
the words you crafted are bloody and naked like the soldier's body
you have absorbed me, my thought, the shadow which falls
in my hand and becomes altered - these are your fingers
fifteen thousand days since you wrote your ghazals to ghalib
the riches of which i heard rumour through all this time are here
go under and go under! and do not speak again (your death)
41 years from today we will awaken and rise up, if we have life
through the streets the canaries are selling newspapers
i hear their song and know that i am breathing
do you hear that sound? a very distant bell
an alarm in another room - muffled human beings' lovemaking
there will come a day soon when we will eat these words
and bludgeoned be subdued by the natural gag in us
the waves from two revolutions are to collide in the middle of the ocean
and no-one will know for battered fish do not float
a soldier lifts himself onto the field of your passion
the words you crafted are bloody and naked like the soldier's body
you have absorbed me, my thought, the shadow which falls
in my hand and becomes altered - these are your fingers
fifteen thousand days since you wrote your ghazals to ghalib
the riches of which i heard rumour through all this time are here
go under and go under! and do not speak again (your death)
41 years from today we will awaken and rise up, if we have life
through the streets the canaries are selling newspapers
i hear their song and know that i am breathing
Monday, July 6, 2009
the pact
we will all bleed to death
that is our shared history
i will get my teeth smashed out
that girl will be unborn
i have got to know you now
and this is how we will overcome
i will lead you to that tree over there
the one with the splash of autumn colour
the leaves are just turning
still mostly green but some yellow
the grass underneath is dry
and scattered with broken thorns
you mouth will be thin like a blade
and the cries will not carry far on the wind
then you will turn me over to the other side
and slash the body before it is burnt
the old truck that is full of fuel oil
you will drive into the city at dawn
that is our shared history
i will get my teeth smashed out
that girl will be unborn
i have got to know you now
and this is how we will overcome
i will lead you to that tree over there
the one with the splash of autumn colour
the leaves are just turning
still mostly green but some yellow
the grass underneath is dry
and scattered with broken thorns
you mouth will be thin like a blade
and the cries will not carry far on the wind
then you will turn me over to the other side
and slash the body before it is burnt
the old truck that is full of fuel oil
you will drive into the city at dawn
Sunday, March 29, 2009
the struggle must end
the struggle had its benefits
but the struggle must end
at least against each other
we struggle now against time
nature doesn't select
against one or other of us
nature selects against all of us
unless we become something different
the struggle must end
we have all won, the game is over
a new game has begun
the struggle must end
capitalism cannot deal with climate change. we are like a mob of bacterium in a jar dying of our own poisonous excrement. the only path to survival is for or our individual freedoms to be curtailed in the interest of the species. such a decision will never be made by individuals or governments as it puts them at a competitive disadvantage. so the competition must end and we must act intelligently as a single organism. its an old and ever more urgent argument.
but the struggle must end
at least against each other
we struggle now against time
nature doesn't select
against one or other of us
nature selects against all of us
unless we become something different
the struggle must end
we have all won, the game is over
a new game has begun
the struggle must end
capitalism cannot deal with climate change. we are like a mob of bacterium in a jar dying of our own poisonous excrement. the only path to survival is for or our individual freedoms to be curtailed in the interest of the species. such a decision will never be made by individuals or governments as it puts them at a competitive disadvantage. so the competition must end and we must act intelligently as a single organism. its an old and ever more urgent argument.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
indecent exposure
caught in a flash
the young man
a metal cup in his hand
tripping on a rock
in the background an indian scene
robbed of colour or poison
stained by the butter fire
riddled with serpents
caught in his hand
the fire, the serpent
a moment of squirming electricity
then released and lost
to quiver out across reality
the unblinked eye
the clock caught motionless
and without pardon
a tiger's tail caught in flame
an ancient temple
more ancient - the air inside
stroked by the lungs of sages
respiring the ageless mantras
loosening the binding maya
allowing a burden to fall
crashing onto the stones
the young man
a metal cup in his hand
tripping on a rock
in the background an indian scene
robbed of colour or poison
stained by the butter fire
riddled with serpents
caught in his hand
the fire, the serpent
a moment of squirming electricity
then released and lost
to quiver out across reality
the unblinked eye
the clock caught motionless
and without pardon
a tiger's tail caught in flame
an ancient temple
more ancient - the air inside
stroked by the lungs of sages
respiring the ageless mantras
loosening the binding maya
allowing a burden to fall
crashing onto the stones
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
To a Distant Unnamed Galaxy (NGC 4945)
ROWAN PUTS HIS WATER CUP
ON THE CATALOGUE
OF GALAXIES
IN WHICH YOU
FAR DOWN THE LIST
ON PAGE THREE
LIE AS BARE AS NUMBERS
when i found you
there
a filament
amid the absolute black
it took a while
to be convinced it was you
your three hundred billion suns
don't shine much
across seventy six million trillion miles
you could be mistaken
for a speck of fluff
on a lady's dark velvet jacket
others don't see
the beating heart
held within a chrysalis of ice
you seem disinterested
to those
who have not known you
but i have long pondered
your spiral form
and deduce
this is a trap set to seduce
you are drawing us in
drawing us all in
my mind is bent to you
i am in orbit
fit to please you
i don't intend to escape
the blended smoke
i draw into my nostrils
the creatures summoned here
are all under your command
for the pleasure of your nebula
is so impotent
i could spend my whole life
in its fantasy
and never look away
ON THE CATALOGUE
OF GALAXIES
IN WHICH YOU
FAR DOWN THE LIST
ON PAGE THREE
LIE AS BARE AS NUMBERS
when i found you
there
a filament
amid the absolute black
it took a while
to be convinced it was you
your three hundred billion suns
don't shine much
across seventy six million trillion miles
you could be mistaken
for a speck of fluff
on a lady's dark velvet jacket
others don't see
the beating heart
held within a chrysalis of ice
you seem disinterested
to those
who have not known you
but i have long pondered
your spiral form
and deduce
this is a trap set to seduce
you are drawing us in
drawing us all in
my mind is bent to you
i am in orbit
fit to please you
i don't intend to escape
the blended smoke
i draw into my nostrils
the creatures summoned here
are all under your command
for the pleasure of your nebula
is so impotent
i could spend my whole life
in its fantasy
and never look away
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
