september 2022

 

                        (i)

 

…are you really still here among us

swilling out your mouth with rat’s blood

 

scrolling the apps

and swallowing children

 

you, with your icy semen

and your obscene, blue nipples

 

are you really still reading entrails

for links that conspire

 

for omens that twist the colon

and those acolytes who deceive

 

whose souls are made of clay

this life’s inaudible scream

 

yes, they are still here

but now as clairvoyant bulls

 

fondling their bitcoins

here amongst us

 

still kissing haemorrhoids

rolling dice and cutting veins

 

this e-paradise

this insanity made of clay…



 

                      (ii)

 

…and yet the puzzle still remains

these lyrics, these births that no-one can hear

 

these shadows on the other side of language

reflections that fade to infinity

 

taunting existence

with multitudes of anemones

 

littering the air

this gorgeous, unbroken soul of the sky

 

far behind the eyes

the dark, black sapphires

 

always on the verge of light

a shadow-play that lives

 

far beyond the reach of perception

thus do the windflowers desecrate

 

taunting the universe

with their esoteric madness

 

a myth no eye can see

a beauty none can break

 

thus always the mystery wins

this nativity just out of reach…

 

 

 

                        (iii)

 

…today, the solar winds spin through my body 

wrapping me in some unearthly tiredness

 

a monumental fatigue 

that kneels and begs the darkness for rest

 

me and my thousands of years 

without sleep

 

me and my homeless atoms 

with no reason to exist

 

for when I die, is it not obvious 

the cosmos too must die

 

that the winds will be full of seed 

yet have no earth to fall on

 

and although the rocks listen 

and the sun listens

 

mortality will remain in my blood 

spinning its exhausting script

 

this unearthly weight 

that kneels and begs for rest

 

me and my thousand obsessions

me and my airborne seeds…

 

 

 

                       (iv)

 

…how many children do we have left

how many trees

 

there are, of course, skies and seas

maybe even a handful of tomorrows

 

but every last grain of time

has now vanished

 

into the unconscionable enormity

of what we have done

 

life has slipped through our hands

a delphic soul

 

a paper soul

children blown out to sea like rags

 

how many do you think we have left

how many trees

 

these glowing winds

these stinking beaches

 

stepping over handfuls of so many rags

memories falling apart in the waves

 

this paper soul

this delphic soul

 

calling the ocean to come

and seize this hopeless enormity of our tomorrow…