FROM THE PAGE

Tags

dissent, Fascism, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, totalitarianism, writing

FROM THE PAGE

was writing, writing
writing

could not get the words right
(right meaning “exact”,
not in league with
some
masquerading devil

who would march us up
in our regiments, crisply uniformed,
to the iron
gates of Heaven

where angels with machine-guns
check our credentials
let us In)

no the words, as you see here, were
running away from me
flying off at tangents
swirling on the wind
without focus or power

and who would read such
preposterous metaphors,
ridiculous images
Cassandra warnings of
the end to all polity?

and yet
hopeless as the poem is
however ineffectual

the forces of denial are battering away
smashing at my door, pressed up
against my window
desperate to prevent my pen
producing a line, managing
a choice phrase

for this dominion must be absolute, no
dissent is
tolerable

even this sad, worthless effort
blood-washed from the page

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WHEN

Tags

child v adult, Crucifixion, dark v light, good v evil, Jesus, poem, poetry

WHEN

When you were a child
you were puzzled at the Crucifixion
I mean: golden, god-child Jesus
in the manger, who could
possibly wish him harm?

this, doubtless, you raised
with your parents, who,
having their own crosses
to carry
stuttered and stammered

at around which time you
noticed they cast shadows

as dark and as deep
as those
under the bed
(to which they would obviously
always be pointing

those tiny demons of Herod humanity
growing, quite naturally, in
the dark doubt spaces
left after the Passion

clinging to the light
as you negotiate them).

FOR ARE WE NOT

Tags

darkness, Devil, good v evil, Humanity, Light, Lucifer, poem, poetry, Satan

FOR ARE WE NOT

the Dark Lord
loved how the angels
would reflect
his light

until
that service
ripped from him
by higher
authority

they saw
how their refusal
changed him irrevocably
how
light unreturned

changed
to fire
a fire so intense
it could not but
reshape that former
golden form

whose molten shape bubbled
viciously, seething with
twisted, toxic
diabolical pride

true image of
pride we know so well

for are we not
ourselves divine, most
perfect species:
humankind?

OLD IRON

Tags

Humanity, inhumanity, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry

OLD IRON

in the name
of freedom
let the Beast speak

let it have
its say
tell us how
humanity
stands in
its way

how the vote
was taken
to let the
little boats sink

the children drown
to let them him in
he must think
us clowns

that great iron Master
in the sky
that the Beast
needs worship

with iron
brain, iron
heart

MATE IN TEN HOWEVER

Tags

Big Bang, Chess, Devil, poem, poetry, space/time

has anyone ever checkmated the Devil?
when it gets to
mate in ten
expect the board to
expand infinitely, so
the game
will take forever

not the first time the prince
of deviousness
used Big Bang
inflation
to create a dark cosmos
(like this
one)

dodge the logic of defeat
changing the rules
of the game
(bending
to dark, confounding beauty

the once
simple axioms
of space and time)

ON THE MORNING OF THE 41st DAY

Tags

Dionysus, divinity, Drama, Jesus, poem, poetry, spiritual, The Devil, wine

ON THE MORNING OF
THE 41st DAY

Rabbi
I see you sent
that evil one
packing

as if a
prophet like you
or a god like me
would worship
such as that
something so tacky,
brimstone-stinky, suffused
with unholy pride

not that you or I are free of this failing
each of us in our own way
making an adjustment

so, I’m here to chat
pitch for
peaceful co-existence

though I am (amongst other things)
god of wine
I regret I did not bring any
with me to enhance this occasion
(though as god of wine
it must have struck you
that I would have got to hear
of the miracle at the wedding
such a sublime, spontaneous transformation,
and what fine vintage — all
respect to you)

but I do have some bottled water
that they gave me on the plane
on my flight from the Greek mainland;
as for those Greeks, do
not believe all they have
written about me, about
my love of blood sacrifice, mass slaughter,
the tragedy of life and
other such drama

being like you
half
human born

set on a perpetual trajectory
of death and resurrection

such an admirer of your anger
in scattering the moneylenders
and what you just did
to that
hater of
mankind

calling himself a
“fallen angel”

for here we
share something deeper than
either of us, though divine, can ever
really fathom
our love for and bond
with mankind

a love, I must admit, not
identical in kind

yes, I see in your eyes, your
condemnation for my
disposing of Pentheus (that drooling, fooling-himself,
fatally repressed high-minded fascist)
but I was
simply giving that Caesar
what was due unto that Caesar

and what
is due unto you, I would offer
reverence if reverence were possible

nothing have I to give
but
the soul of
what I am

that you as
fellow divine and mortal
know
all too well

the suffering of a god — a god
that fears he has
no place in your Kingdom

for
you turned the water to wine
healed the sick, ministered
to the poor (people of
my heart too)
you danced, something in
your words
cannot resist
the dance

but I have words
in my domain, words that
destroy or create demons, unleash
the power of holy or
unholy storms
can break

the human heart
snap it
with joy, seal it
with sadness

what place for
this? For me?

which is why my
brother, friend

I have
journeyed here.

TRIAL RUN

Tags

Devil, fake news, Hell, lies, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry

TRIAL RUN

under that cloak
words are changed
or not the words
but how we
hear them

how
we react
credulous, openly
believing
missing every gap, fissure,
obvious contradiction

whilst
down in Hell
they are so happy
with the effectiveness
the sublime achievements
of this device

they are already
perfecting this prototype
running further
trials

hope that have this
cloak of power, this cloak
of lies
pretty soon running
into mass production

DIGITAL

Tags

Devil, digital, poem, poetry, The Matrix

DIGITAL

when the Devil
went digital

he
scrambled
the
Psalm

that promised
to save humanity

mastered that audio
added the video until
it was
pure overkill

added a backtrack sampling
sounds from every circle
of suffering over
which he holds dominion

and, wouldn’t you know it?,
when it hit the airwaves
it was a sure-fire top ten

TRUCK

Tags

death, Life, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power, satire

TRUCK

truck killed many
killed
all and sundry

got into gear
did
what it had
to do

and people were confused
running hither
and thither

some thinking
work of the Devil
some the hand
of God

and the pulpits raged
fed by radio
and T.V.
with very different
views from theology

which did not add
or subtract a casualty

or provide fresh insight or
any clarity
whilst experts argued
issues of
will and purpose

and eye witnesses could
not agree
on white, or black

ALL THE BIRD ISLAND POEMS

Tags

arrogance, male, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power

BIRD ISLAND

who would have
thought it

that white
could be the
sick death colour
of hypocrisy

yes, manne,
R1, R2, R3, R4:
this in essence was
what you were defending

the better
to facilitate the lie
in all such circumstances

smeared with a holy
patriotic white
skin cream

who would
have thought it

open the door of
that history
and you
just fall through

*******

AND NOW WE SEE
(for the sexually tortured
of Bird Island)

and now we see
what it was about
this total
onslaught

the demon of fear
demon of power
demon of
history

here on this tiny
fortress of an island

where these
might bow and
do service to
their
truly insatiable,
unspeakable Lord

for
what was manifest here
who in
their apartheid white
right mind
will ever believe

that has not been washed away
slashed, speared on
those razor sharp, sharks’ teeth
rocks that
encircle this island

keeping out
keeping in

turning this offshore outcrop
into
outskirt
of Hell
into impregnable laager

***

silent, secret,
safe

you can
scream
all you want to

no one
will hear you

and if they could
what would they do
what would they say?

who can
speak,
say

a word
against this
faith

this ceremony
this
special allegiance

deny
the true hypocrisy
of these
saviours,
these guardians?

whose
deeds

masked as always
in history of white.

*******

REPRISE

rock retains
is super-
absorbent
see here:
where we
have cracked open
this jagged granite

nothing flows
the island is dumb

as if it
could find words
anything could
find words

the darkness of this
perverse hypocrisy
far too
deep a stain
for poor belief

******

LOST BOYS

the birds, the sea
the needle-sharp
impassable rocks

they
deaf to your screams
did not
ask your names

for this was time
of total onslaught
and everything
that power
needed

power
desired

power would do

*******

VOELL
VLERKE
NIE
TEENSTAANDE

die koeell
is deur die kerk
ek het
dit opgemerk

hy gat ie wegvlieg ie
voell vlerke nie
teenstaande

but now
profit is to
be made
we can go
spend the day
dreaming of
what went on here
will prepare
you for
Hell in
the most
refreshing
fashion

you can package them
al die toere na ‘n bevofkte hele
nuwe eiland
van
apartheid lunacy and
military perversion

see what
power can do
waneer jy mos
het ‘n voell
(when you
have a dick)

so let’s all
bandwagon this one and
jump on that lighthouse
(Zapiro
drawn it
accordingly)

let the choppers drop us
just
off the coast
when everyone
is swart gevaaring
no one is
watching

Oh the lighthouse and
the island
are
going down
de-
elevating

not much time now
before die deure spring
oop daar by
die senter
van
die
inferno darkest

and
deep

****