IN ITS OWN RIGHT
what is
that light like
the one
too intense
for mortal eyes?
flooding the cell
of a tortured Saint
soothing the broken spirit somewhat
those wounds healing
not quite
and yet
so surely a miracle
in its
own right
12 Saturday Dec 2020
06 Saturday Jul 2019
Posted Humanity, Poem, Poet, poetry, Poetry, Poetry, Politics of poetry/writing/Literature, Sacrifice, South African, spiritual, Uncategorized
inTags
great white shark, Humanity, meaning, MUIZENBERG, poem, poetry, Saint, South Africa, spiritual
MUIZENBERG SALTY
days running out
to become a Saint
before snuffing itdecided to give everything back
to the Universe in a way
would really hurtso he ran
down to the ocean
(the blue Indian Ocean)
swam out
beyond the breakers
to find a
great white shark
01 Wednesday May 2019
Posted Capitalism, classical, Empire, ENGLAND, film, Greek, historical, Humanity, Intertextual, Neoliberalism, philosophical, Poem, Poet, poetry, Poetry, Poetry, political, Politics of poetry/writing/Literature, power, Repression, Revolution, Revolutionary, ROME, Sacrifice, social comment, Torture, utopia/dystopia, Value and meaning
inTags
poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, ROME, slavery, slaves, socialism, socialist, Spartacus, workers
POEM ON WORKERS’ DAY
so I pulled into Rome
on workers day
to debate liberty
with some slave ownerswore red
which I had difficulty explaining
would be our colournot the colour of Empire, of
its soldiers and legionsthere, within earshot, a Thracian gladiator training,
his sharp Greek philosophical mind
listening to the debate
takingas he dies on the cross of ultimate rebellion
all that was said to its logical conclusion
07 Monday Jan 2019
Tags
aesthetic, art, big bad wolf, egg, Fairy tale, pigs, poem, poetry, three little pigs, wolf, world, writing
The little pig
feeling out (with careful trotter)
the smooth, nigh perfect shell of the egg
confirming the verdict of his
sharp, pink eyeswonderful distraction from
the world of wolf and huff-and-puffeven though door, wall,
starting to yield, suffering huge battering
only a matter of timemore wolves expected (loyalty of pack)
and there the breath whirlwind
bound to exacerbate to industrial strength
(what was it
Nietzsche said about
the instinct of herd and
how that extends to pack?)and so
the displacement disjuncturedthought of sanctity and safety
shifted from that egg
which he
was sadly certainwould not receive from the lupines
the pre-requisite and required
purely aesthetic respect.
27 Thursday Sep 2018
Tags
books, Humanity, loss, pain, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, self-sacrifice
THIN
the veil
getting paper
tissue
thinhe felt he could
reach through
touch
somethingcatch, grab with
both hands, or
himself
slip throughthings changing, final
truths to accepthe felt so cold, the world
so cold
began
to burn his books
to share their heat
01 Saturday Sep 2018
21 Monday May 2018
Posted Author, Christian, Intertextual, Miracle, Poem, Poet, poetry, Poetry, Poetry, redemption, religious, Revelation, Sacrifice, Sorrow, spiritual, SUN: the sun, the body, Transcendence, Vision, writing
inUNDERINSURED
this poem
is underinsuredagainst such things
as sadness
and naked sunlightfull of the Sun
once I ran
fast as a
steam
train (and
here you are
expecting “legs
like pistons”)Oh sadness
I have drunk so much
of that stuff they say
I’m a bona fide sadoholic!the more
scarcely the merrier
unless you
are right
Madame Tand I secretly love this lead-gray heavy heavy
want all the dark energy in the Universe
to gather up
in a Prufrock ball,
steam-roller mebut who are you (whom I
sort of remember from
another Eliot poem)from birth
it would appear, you
have been shadowing me, getting
me to judge myself impossible
by your ultimate standards“sadness” you say
“try this for size and we
will talk sadness!”my fingers finding
wounds and
stuffand blood that won’t wash off
still warm and wet (thank God)nothing in my policy speaks
of cover for any such event
18 Friday May 2018
THEY
they died in
a wasteland fighting
for green fieldsWilfred your poetry stilled
at maximum moment by
Maxim machine-gunthat England
you were fighting for
the Shakespeare England and
John Clarenow a no-
man’s land of
ultimate hostilitycovered in a concept
of barbed wire
14 Monday May 2018
GRENFELL ALBUM
I scroll through your names
read each snapshot of your livesthink of the human pity that
there is no mitigation, no
quiet book-closing fatalism
to let us, your readers, your
imaginers, down gently
no soft euphemism
to kill the horror
recoil from
terrible truth of fireOh little children, Oh lover
of song and
of danceand saint-like altruist, hearts of
poetry, minds of philosophy
we see
now exactly the lossit’s balance with cost
and wonder why the Universe
would be so
heartless to
Insist that price was paid.***
Oh let us never forget this album
and what
pain and
love
learnt with every page.
01 Tuesday May 2018
Posted Capitalism, childhood, Commercial, Commercialization, dark, death, Destruction, Drowning, Fragmentation, Horror, Intertextual, Neoliberalism, philosophical, Poem, poetry, Poetry, Sacrifice, social comment, Torture
inPennywise
is a cruel philosopherclowns around
about taking you down
(sinking like a market
in the throes of depression)to where we
all float safely, after being
politically dismembered,
hollowed-out
with fearthat peace in living-death
worth all the war really.