july 2019

                                 (i)

...the sun’s language is one vast, blazing silence

and every human utterance since has been a betrayal

every sonnet a wound

every birth a defiance

and every drop of rain an inaudible rage

demanding why, why this blue-scattered light

a lark shoots skywards emptying its tiny heart

singing for the sheer joy of rebellion

meteors crush my soul

and I am covered in a special death

the renaissance of all things

a man made of ash

whose words come from caves and mist

a man who has lived in the mouths of gods

places filled with sobriety, greed and dust

where the sun was pushed to the back of my throat

and left to quietly disguise its true intent

of transforming freedom

into some meaningless choreography

and kill all that stand before it...

                    (ii)

...as the searches grow and grow

so the ground succumbs

a screen is touched

an ocean sold

the world hallucinates

and the world invites

but the wifi foetus

knows just what to do next

embrace the chasm

override mortality

then code for aggression, vanity

for all that violates

but, on the other side

on the other, far side of paradise

there is this realm

this palace of one-dimensional souls

where the cyclops sits whistling a tune

occasionally spitting through the screens

brain tissue, buttons, the odd tooth

some magic words to pull a crowd

and as the multitudes grow and grow

so the ground succumbs

there is light and there is light

but only one darkness

only one chasm...

                           (iii)

...and here they come, smile by smile

the high, global priests

flaunting the sovereignty of their testes

breaths reeking

throats lined

with money

with god’s pearly ejaculate

moving from mouth to mouth

this manhood of bulls

this telling resuscitation of evil

and these oracles and scryers

with their flaming, green eyes

they are no different

they judge, they enact

they cipher their superhuman algorithms

to catch the truth

to stretch from mouth to mouth

this manhood of bulls

this manhood of throats

lined with rape

the repetitive pre-eminence

of outright evil

and yet, and yet the world spins on

from smile to smile

a child in acute distress

motherless and beyond reach...

                        (iv)

...they say being alive is a good thing

and yet this good snake, this ruse

has slipped millions of its distrustful eyes

deep into my mind

and looking out over the surrounding hills

I see only indifference and madness

busy conceiving

busy sliding needles into their arms

beneath my thumb I crush several ants

and immediately the executioners

begin to pound on my roof

the heart’s flesh, they shout, is driven

by a serendipitous agony

you are no longer an epicentre of anything

so crush the sliding hills

throw down your mind

and let indifference breed its snakes

millions now slither from the walls

and having the eyes of a serpent

they say is a good thing

you will be an immaculate survivor

always alive, always watchful

the deep conquest of someone else's mind...