MEDITATION

Tags

poem, poetry

MEDITATION

I can go,
do,
Cartesian

can Descartes
myself from
something
to nothing
(opposite of
God, opposite
of Big Bang)

place all my faith in
a false-teeth man
who said he was God

told me
I could never
get anything right, never
amount to anything.

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HOUSE CALL

Tags

arrogance, male, narcissism, poem, poetry, power, pride, satire

HOUSE CALL

my father visited me
in my house

outside there were monsters
of imposing stature

he talked his
god-like nonsense
for a while
(all
smiley-smile)

when he left
I barely noticed
a monster bite
his head off

PRODIGAL

Tags

arrogance, macho, male, narcissism, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power, pride, satire, sexual symbolism

man god said he was God
but that was not
the answer I was
looking for:
far from it

left me with
a broken pen, drained of ink,
trying somehow
to fill in the hole in my poem
hole in my being

vagina that in his infinite wisdom
he wished to, cutting out my heart,
leave for me

as he ascended to Heaven
tacky Elysium of his own limited creation

me, though, his most limited creation
though I have this poem and the
rampant Devil who
spoke and
still speaks

from these lines, through these bars,
outside the gate tightly shut and
locked for
the eternally prodigal

not quite out
of earshot
laughing diabolically but
quietly: yes my divine Other,
rattling your cage
as he laughs
and laughs
and
laughs
at you

in this insane, hopeless space
what more can he do?

NIGHT NIGHT

Tags

poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry

NIGHT NIGHT

my father
spoke at my funeral
told them that
I couldn’t do
anything right
even my death
had been
painfully drawn out

but then he
was suffused with light
as one who has
seen God

at which the mourners
did then rejoice
sang my
father’s praises
in one voice

placed him
on a golden throne
and began to dance

everything
so right
with the world
from that moment
for all eternity

the stars themselves
bucketing down delight
though they
would, of course,
disappear
since no more night

AM

Tags

poem, poetry

AM

I am
my own
colour
my own
single-
person
family

am so
on track
run
(or rather
hobble) my
own race
entirely

live
inside my
own
relative
time

and when
I go
am gone
wipe
the tape

wipe it
completely.

SERPENT

SERPENT

you were shocked
to see a
front-fanged serpent
slither out of
my crib

those eyes burning with
ancient wisdom

how could you
be expected to make any
sense of this mythology?
you who never read
a single book
and so know nothing of
our human depth and mystery

and when I told you
to stand back, beware,
you did not listen
tried your luck in combat
with this gorgeous creature
whose camouflage not
less sumptuous than
his venom

who struck repeatedly with
his vicious poison
against which there
is no resistance
(at least none
from a poor excuse of
a man like you)

OPAQUE

OPAQUE
(for Daniel)

I will be
wearing a mask
when I give
your eulogy

every word will be
carefully chosen
for its ambiguity

and, were it not your wake,
you might flash back
to the helpless
baby, your
first child, now speaking,

wondering what made
the openness of the
helpless love
for a father

turn
in expression, so opaque.