DEMON

Tags

identity, mythology, Ocean, poem, poetry, power, sea, transformation, Water

DEMON

spent some time
amongst the water demons
learning the tricks
of their trade

the sea serpents
thronged around me
my acquaintance
pleased to
be made

and from the surface
of the ocean
I looked back
to the shore

wondering of all the fantastic
tales of the great mariners
I had heard
whose
perspective seemed
so limited, sad

before I submerged
to be seen
no more

TELL MYSELF

Tags

California, eternal recurrence, Golden Gate Bridge, Humanity, identity, Nietzsche, philosophical, poem, poetry, Reader, wordplay, writing

TELL MYSELF

tell myself I am
right hand writing the left hand
MC Escher postmodern
don’t
know what
I’m doing

and you scream at me
I’m not poetry just
trajectory
(we all so sexually underutilized)

sat next to a dead German professor on some
park bench and him saying
we got to be glad to
be back and
nothing so Apollonian
raw desire, unfiltered, will
not put the chaos in it

but
try to bridge
try to span

and here I am now spanning
the mist above the sea
between Oakland and Frisco

my heart at
this moment pure California

a humongous bridge
a
suspension bridge

a Golden Gate Bridge
between the real and the imaginary

as if you
reader I’m trying to
connect with, build
my bridge to
are not imaginary

hanging over dark, dark ocean
somewhere between the ordinary and
the unreal

what a dialectic that must be

I write
you
in your absence so differently

ALLEGORY

Tags

Allegory, Consciousness, Dream, identity, meaning, metapoetic, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, science fiction, simulation, Universe

ALLEGORY

he dissolves the yellow-orange tablet in water
the taste is bitter so he adds a drop of honey to sweeten it
whilst doing so he has a slightly critical thought about himself as one of those people he somewhat dispises — the people who need to add sugar to sweeten things

when he writes down his dream experience he uses no punctuation
he does not know why this should be

the game teaches him things he would not have learnt otherwise

it takes him places
he has never been

he calls the game “Allegpry”
he wonders if there are other users, and where, if there are, their collective consciousness might actually be

there is frightening violence and graphic sexual experience in the game, at least in some of the narrative lines he has followed
this would suggest there is no single determining mind able to censor content that players/users might find disturbing, offensive or unsuitable

the game has been around for a very long time, perhaps as long as time itself

some aspects of the game do seem alien, beyond human consciousness, outside of the categories of human rational and philosophical thinking

the game could be a force for good or evil
it could be morally ambivalent
it could be, to use the philosopher’s phrase: beyond good and evil

perhaps even how they are working to turn the dream world into an absolute universal simulation, a concrete reality — the people who created the yellow-orange, somewhat bitter tasting effervescent tablets

he imagined them working in a laboratory, then he realized he did not have to imagine them because them working in the laboratory was part of the game

in one of the Internet chat rooms where they discuss the game, its origin, its meaning, how it should be experienced, how it should be played, there are those who express the idea that some of the narratives are eternal

open-ended, they fold back upon themselves like Möbius strips, looping back and forward forever

he has no thought on this, but believes the possible narratives or versions of the narrative could be in the millions or billions
perhaps even infinite in number

the game is, he fears, slowly deleting ha sense of the real

he spoke about this to his supervisor at the laboratory

thins at the laboratory seem to be becoming stranger by the day, his daily working life becoming more surreal

perhaps there is no laboratory, no game, no yellow-orange tablet, no Sun in the sky

perhaps there is a codeword or code phrase that needs to be uttered that will stop or suspend everything

perhaps the game has secretly been feeding him the codeword or phrase already

perhaps it is on his tongue and he
will remember it
definitely will remember it

with that thought the dissolved tablet finding its way into his system begins to operate according to the precise chemical plan and..

he is back in the game

ACHTUNG FRANKFURT

Tags

apocalyptic, art, Capitalism, Censorship, Consciousness, Control, Critical Theory, Deleuze, Ending, Fascism, Frankfurt School, Humanity, identity, liberation, loss, media, Metaphysical, mythology, Nazi, philosophy, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, power, psychological, radical. left, Reader, transformation, Twist in the tail, value, writing

ACHTUNG FRANKFURT
“the mapping of countries yet to come”
Gilles Deleuze

achtung Frankfurt
achtung Frankfurt

stuff you thought
locked inside that box
beginning to ooze out

thick
as instant pudding
thick as
vanilla blancmange

overloading all
your circuits
rewiring your smart
keen rational mind
down
dial adding
minus one

Oh it’s hardly
day of judgement
hardly battle
of the gods
as gotterdammerungs go
it’s quite pleasant really
big brother
without the brother
somebody
got talent
without the song

all in all
it’s mountainous
the wisdom here to
be heard
and seen

is putting your chess game
off the scale
general knowledge
through the roof

your consciousness
we take
a piece each day
teleport away way
nothing too
apocalyptic, though

there are torches
in the street

RETURN

Tags

Britain, British, Consciousness, death, Eat Coker, Ending, Heaven, Humanity, identity, Life, Liverpool, meaning, Metaphor, metapoetic, philosophical, poem, poetry, Reader, river, River Mersey, River Tame, spiritual, THE BEATLES, time, TS Eliot, Universe, Water, William Wordsworth, wordplay, writing

RETURN

a command came
from the brown god

which left me
under no illusions

and there I was writing
deep into the night
through sleep
through dream
following that river
my river

as we made
our course
to the sea.

****
Oh, the disregarded
divinity
of this labour
words are
cheap
are below
us
I hear you say

in the voice
your words commandeer for you

****

river of life
what songs
do you
have for me?

what songs from
my childhood
for I was born
beside a tiny river
a trickle of
a tributary
that
on its way
to the ocean went
Strawberry Field, became
full Sergeant Pepper

not that
those that bore me
much cared, knew at all

and last night I dreamt myself
crossing this river in your victorious city
finding my
way

finding my way
and now everything
that I write
you must view
through this prism

must write what I wrote
through this prism

river of life

celestial city
surreal little lanes and streets
of which your
four troubadours sing

****
deep
into the night

how deep
your inquire
and
what the depth
of this river?

really, such questions, interrogations
that I should be forced to
made to answer

for I know not of depth
beyond absolute abyss, the rest
relatively speaking
I only know flow
this
a poem of rivers

river of
my birth
river of my dream, my death,
rivers to which
I will always return

as the poet in the ninth prelude
speaking of
waters doubling back
finding ways
back to memory

I will just shrug and
smile

be your village idiot
not spiritual professor

(for what did we learn
not under
revision
in eternal state of advisement?)

as the night
gathers shape

and the fire of the spirit boils
the water of the soul

and the air
lifts up rain
caressing that surface

and the earth will wait
as the earth is wont

the earth has me booked
and placed
will find space
for my body

and the poem
being done

what left for its fate
but to fold into
ship shape

return
to the brown god (damyatta da)
give
back to
that source
set adrift on those flowing
never ending waters

DRAGON

Tags

metapoetic, mythological, poem, Poet, poetry, postmodern, simulation

DRAGON

so dragon said
where is
this
poem

does it
exist

why can
I not
see it

so I
lifted up
the page
rocked his
mythical
world

reminded him
we could all
be in
something and
be none
the wiser
for it

FIRED

Tags

media, poem, poetry, reality TV, satire

FIRED

this is
my reality poem
(knowing how
much
you like
reality poetry)

so divide the stanzas
up in to tribes

give them tasks
get them
to sing or dance

bring their
torches
gather round

get Mr Morgan
and Cowell to
call the
shots

vote them
off

vote
them off

we’re
all fired

every hope
we ever had dashed

MIRRORS

Tags

depth, Lacan, Mirror, philosophical, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, surface, woman, wordplay, writing

MIRRORS

mirrors elongate — deepen perspective

but now
(metaphor, metonymy)
let’s think
those axes
through
carefully

to fathom what it all should mean
we need to
get beneath
the surface
not get entangled
in any nets that
trap surface swimmers

so much junk
bobbing up and down
flotsam, jetsam
need to break through them

powerful strokes me dear
and you
do have the
muscle-tone for it

your brown skin the exact
label for which luscious shade escaping me
getting me
to explore the reality that
there are
only interpretations, only perspectives

so shallow, with you
I feel
myself bottoming-out
no 20,000 leagues with you

only this moment
between us
we
only get
skin deep

but under
the circumstances that
should suffice entirely

Antarctica

Tags

ice, poem, poetry, Reality?

ANTARCTICA

a splash
of ice-cold water
good for
a dose of reality

but why does my
dose of ice cold
reality
have to
involve

an iceberg
a glacier
the whole of
frigging Antarctica?

AND YET

Tags

death, Humanity, meaning, philosophical, poem, poetry, time, Universe

AND YET

it’s a sleep
I won’t wake up from

and yet I do
I always do

since the beginning
of the Universe
since
before

the beginning
(time and
consciousness
so
connected
so at odds)

I have never
overslept

never known anything other
than the absurdity of now

the chances of
which

so absolutely ridiculous

billions to
one against

I think I’ll just sleep on it;
waking up is death