ASLEEP

Tags

Creation, Creativity, katana, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, the Sun, wordplay

ASLEEP

folded and
folded

again
and again

legendary, the way
you tempered my metal

until finally I was
pure shape of sword
razor-
sharp katana

and whilst you
slept, worm out by
this endeavor

I popped out
into the garden to
observe the sunrise

which
rose

on cue
its rule
still assured

as
bold in demeanor
as if just
painted by Picasso, the
canvas
not yet dry

at least two
furnaces
engaged and active
in the Universe
at this moment

though the one more
fiery and ferocious
in her
bedroom
asleep

OR RIPE CHEESE

Tags

poem, poetry, The Emperor of Ice Cream, Wallace and Grommit, Wallace Stevens

OR RIPE CHEESE

Emperor of
Ice Cream

Queen
of Margarine

Wallace and his dog
composed a poem together
so see
if you can
stop motion animate
that
creative process

using
the usual:
plasticine, modeling clay
or
(of course) ripe
cheese

SOFT STROKES

Tags

art, Moon, mythology, poem, poetry, Vision

SOFT STROKES

so many stars
in your eyes
cannot
deny

it’s amazing
you are able
to see
anything at all

not least
in the West
a tiny sliver
of silver
crescent moon

read thereinto
face of horned
matriarch goddess

even as
a wispy veil of cloud
brushes across the sky
to hide her

whosoever this artist is
they are absolutely using
very soft strokes

NEO-GT “…remember that the airplane takes off against the wind”

Tags

Dionysus, Henry Ford, poem, Poet, poetry, writing

NEO-GT
“…remember that the airplane
takes off against the wind”

I have
dried up

but the poems — bless them! —
still come

a vegetation god (you
know the one) seems
to have
infiltrated my head
is busy
connecting cables
wiring me up

making sure I deliver
as Japanese industry would have it
right on time

I suppose I have become
the Fireblade, the Hayabusa of poetry

but he
who never must
be disagreed with

says I am way more like
old Henry Ford.

SORRY

Tags

Creation, Creativity, poem, poetry, Reader, writer

SORRY

distressed to hear
you can’t
write poetry

was born
linguistically challenged
metaphorically stunted

for which all I can proffer
are my deepest commiserations
most massive condolences

just
bear in mind
how many failed, sad
people there are
who
failed to miss
this calling, are
sadly
up to scratch

for whom
the entire mythology that
extols this
practice
is sadly, patently,
a thing absurd

not withstanding the commitment, the effort,
the identification and buying into

the vulnerability
the indifference, the sheer
recalcitrance of words
words
dead, trivial, necessary,
revelatory,
astounding

MATTER OF FACT

Tags

Alien, art, metapoetic, philosophical, poem, poetry, simulation, Stars

MATTER OF FACT

what if
we are all
just alien
artifact?

run
from
research and development
to production line?

no art to speak of
just a pieces kit you
rivet and fix
by numbers paint
colours of
(an oxygen atmosphere)
rainbow

praise be intelligence
for thanks to this
got other
models and myths
I’d rather
cling to

even when
I stalk a poem, circling
the house at night

the stars laughing in concert
in
their
constellations
as I
miss the point

become the embodiment
of
our
base assumption
that there is
thing called
self, things
called
soul
and mind

clunkiest of all
our most arrogant
rationalizations

STAGED

Tags

Fall, mythology, Narrative, poem, poetry, serpent, Story, writing

STAGED

what use is light if it
remains stuck
bouncing inside
a mirror?

serpent asked a regular angel
to ask Lucifer

for serpent saw
a gap, was angling for
that Archangel’s fall

for the true comedy
of this tragedy
lay in ulterior motive

snake dreaming of his body become writing
his story to be told forever
in every book
on every stage

AGAIN AND AGAIN

Tags

Creation, philosophical, poem, poetry

AGAIN AND AGAIN

I love that conceit
“going to meet my maker”

what the Hell
could it possibly mean?

and
how should I there
deport myself

(whatever there
in that context does mean?)

should I be
fuzzy warm and sentimental- grateful?
or go
full Frankenstein’s monster for giving
me such an inadequate script?

finding myself
in the programmer’s tea room
far into the future
where someone wrote the code
that gave me life
bastard for trapping me
in that simulation

where
I lived and suffered, make
mistake after mistake, lost
my one true-
love (such a
badly-written cliche)
again and again
again and again

why am I not now
sitting on a park bench conversing
with Nietzsche
discussing eternal recurrence as
you reboot and reload?

Or maybe it’s got to be
scene with Monoloth as in Kubrick’s classic
as the star gate opens and I’m
left in a room with
elegant styling, fluorescent lighting

testimony (Renaissance paintings on the wall)
how far I have come
mainly as a species, less as individual man.

WORD

Tags

poem, poetry

WORD

word has it
in the beginning
was the word

what
word? what word
amongst all
others?

so many words now, we
are literally (and
figuratively) surrounded

and that word
what did they call
it
the Greeks, the Hebrews
we have
all forgotten

SKIN

Tags

art, creative, poem, poetry, Tattoo, the body, writing

SKIN

your poem
is

so
fly

it needs to
adorn the body

of a
celebrity

be tattooed there somewhere
by a
great
tattoo artist

some Picasso or Da Vinci,
a Michelangelo of
ink and
skin
and needle

wiping away the blood