ON THE WALL

Tags

books, Censorship, Devil, library, meaning, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, reading, value

ON THE WALL

was writing
on the wall

when
my pen broke
and the wall
fell down

so the Devil
took me
to his library

gave me
a conducted tour
the floor covered
in pamphlets and
broadsheets of
pain and
hate

the books: more, far more
than I could count
each one
devoid of
context, just
empty text

which was, as
he assured me
how it should be

was
writing on
the wall

think
I’ll rub it out
and start afresh

OLD BOOKS

Tags

books, History, knowledge, poem, poetry, The book, wisdom, writing

OLD BOOKS

old books are thicker
have greater
paper texture
smell
of old learning

who know what imprint
those pages left on
so many
sharp minds
whose eyes wandered here
whose fingers, almost spellbound,
flicked
through each leaf

and with such a book
one can faithfully say “imbibe”
or any great
wisdom-drink metaphor

unlike with
this scrawny, half-baked
pamphlet
hot from the press
using the
right system, saying
the right things

could speed read in an eye-blink
were it not
for the jargon

sign of our post-
Gutenberg times, each revision
upon revision
lining the nest
of
intellectual perdition

SALVE

Tags

afterlife, books, death, Humanity, philosophical, poem, poetry, religion, spiritual, Upanishads, Water

SALVE

salve aqua
you are the original solvent

it was raining that day when
I figured death
might not have dominion

down in the crypt-like stacks
of the University library
rain pouring down
(a natural watershed here
on the backslope of this mountain)

easy to forget
the trials and tribulations
of climbing even so far
(later to
lose myself in the clouds
of crazy
doctoral thesis)

but here we are
deep into the Upanishads,
ancient Hindu scriptures

where they talk
journey of the soul

across space and
time

(didn’t fully
understand it

too young
this
mind)

MY BOOKS CRIED OUT

Tags

books, Censorship, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, satire, writing

MY BOOKS CRIED OUT

my books cried out
for me to read them
but most unfortunately
I had to turn them down

they exclaimed
how good they were
propped full of
rich ideas and meanings
that in
the right hands, in
the right mind
could do
such great good
change the world entire

it was
with deep regret that
I declined their request
too little time of
life left to
make even most
modest inroads

and as for the world
as it spun its way
away from
precious idea, most
valued text

I wondered if not in its desire for
quick fix, snap
answer, instant
gratification

it did not need something
other, more
pure
stimulation
(philosophically, is it not
proof of
the pudding
we are
in

so little raw, true, real
but all
pixel and byte
Universe as
simulation)

and cry they did, my books,
when they took them away

since
the people have judged (well
coaxed by their masters)

there is nothing here
to be learnt that
might conceivably

bring any
advantage

nothing here, to see

LIBRARY

Tags

books, Foucault, knowledge, library, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, power

LIBRARY

people disappear in
University libraries
they wander so far
off the beaten path
they have to be
corrected

chastised, conditioned,
classified

chopped up
analytically as
Foucault wrote

in that major
world-challenging, deconstructive tome

they probably got lost
looking for in the first place

YOUR NOVEL

Tags

Author, female, poem, poetry, Reader

YOUR NOVEL

your novel
is a soft, gentle place
for people to
escape to

from the terrible
worlds that I create

where the only sound
is the scream
as life is
crushed in
the vice of
absolute power

the rending shriek of
metal on metal

which is
our
Universe

our home
our lives

shown in
a slightly different light

across every single page
(they number
tens of thousands)

the story ending only
when the blood runs out

IN HIS NAUTILUS MACHINE

Tags

books, Creation, poem, poetry, writing

IN HIS NAUTILUS MACHINE

the books are opening
their pages spreading

new vistas, landscapes
and the odd abyss

and as the
pages turn
exclusion zones

the entire library going
serpent
going garden

as the library sank, as
it headed off through the stratosphere
the children who could
not be contacted, evacuated
still there
spellbound, reading,

staring at the strange light rising from the deep:
Captain Nemo in his Nautilus machine

OUT

Tags

Alien, art, poem, poetry, Reader, text, transformation

OUT
“we have learnt nothing”
Picasso

text he
downloaded

being alien
and a masterpiece
was incomparably
advanced

to read it we
had no
option
but to
become it
ourselves

love it, hate it
what does that matter
when you
are metaphor?

for final verdict, place
in the supreme
absolute canon

the jury still sitting
the jury still out

VULGATE VERSION

Tags

erotic, female, innuendo, irony, love, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, Sexual, Sexual innuendo, sexual symbolism, woman, wordplay

VULGATE VERSION

let us not
interrogate
rather
translate

speak, teach, preach
each other
with
our tongues

and
deconstruct all presumption
if inner, deeper truth
from the
perspective of
those sweet margins

and the church of dark and
light and gorgeous surface
lead us to
altar

sacred, hallowed
place where
rose
open, unfold
all
is revealed

your text, my text
unabridged, as
vulgate version

here
where
in plenitude

our meaning begins
is shared, it ends
(note on which
it all
depends)

HOWEVER EXAMINED

Tags

Also Sprach Zarathustra, Nietzsche, philosophical, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, postmodern

HOWEVER EXAMINED

had sex
(once)

went mad
died

had a
boringly minimalist
philological life

so dead in the water
he told Zarathustra to
resurrect,
recreate him

and in this construction
balance the self
so finely
at the apex
of contrary

as eagle
and serpent
(the snake
in that
text
dancing the sublime joy
of infinite duplication

eternal recurrence of a wisdom
writhing through
that writing

marked by an ersatz,
interrogated favour
and joy
in the destiny
of
forever
swallowing itself