august 2019

 

 

                        (i)

 

...strange isn’t it, I seem to spend each day

just waiting to breathe

 

a clot of blood

just waiting to make my way downstream

 

to those inexorable treasures and exits

that pierce the universe

 

it’s not that I don’t love life

it’s just that I love the oppression

 

the weight of infinity more

it sits, as ever, on my chest

 

tightening its threads

binding its love

 

a simple, happy blood clot

poking gerunds into my stomach

 

making its way downstream

to kill perception

 

and leave the universe childless

a mass of countless stones

 

trying desperately to breathe

to cut through the threads

 

of this love of endless captivity...

 

 

 

                          (ii)

 

...every thought is now a gamble

a thing almost forbidden

 

a mirage, a ghost

a risk of seas and oceans

 

returning as human tears

this progression of unflinching genius

 

with its manifestations of certainty

its way of moving aside the viscera

 

to get at the truth

but chance still maketh the man

 

and man is still throwing his smiles at the walls

still besotted by citadels

 

by probabilities far beyond his reach

such towers, such spiralling thoughts

 

they poke out through the watery surface

disavowing promises

 

this progression of human tears

these bewitched oceans and seas

 

that are forbidden to exist

for such ideas and such hopes

 

are the wounds of revolution...