TO POWER

Tags

fake news, Frankfurt School, media, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, satire, Theodor Adorno

TO POWER

if it all fake
how the f do you
speak truth
to power

how do
you
locate the
source of your
stultification and
oppression

if you
need your
GPS to
locate your
existence

the networks blasting
in the foreground
of the background

eating Cheetos
reading Adorno

how the Hell
do your find
yourself?

RELIEF

Tags

meaning, Metaphor, poem, poetry, Reader, Truth, writer

RELIEF

a poem is
by no means always
a statement
of belief

which
is a relief

who
in their right mind
would want to be
crowbarred into
truth by
sheer
force of metaphor

LAST TIME I LOOKED

Tags

poem, poetry, satire, Truth

LAST TIME
I LOOKED

truth
doesn’t
matter

no worry
how many
lies
outrageous
lies

the dinosaurs told
the planet is
still
here

CERTAINTY

Tags

Desire, falsehood, lie, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power, satire, Truth

CERTAINTY

the courage
to lie

the power
to lie

the lie we desire
lie
we
demand

for if
there is
no lie

where’s
the certainty

FISH TO FRY

Tags

poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, Truth

FISH TO FRY

coughed up
a half-
truth

but not the one
you were angling for

so many fish to fry
and there’s that ghostly figure
walking on the shore

what did he
tell the fish because they
are swamping the nets
and the ship may
sink?

I flip my tail, dive, head for the deep water
best place always when
making a run for it

GIFT

Tags

death, Life, love, poem, poetry, satire, Truth

GIFT

the only
share

is
price

the only
exchange
nuclear

the only
gift
the curse
of
prophecy

where you saw
love and life
their
truth
so
sorely relativized

and our
joy
become
our death

OUT OF THE BLUE

Tags

Africa, Capitalism, Colonialism, Congo, Humanity, philosophical, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, satire, Slavoj Zizek

OUT OF THE BLUE

call me anytime
from anywhere
but the Congo

ask to
speak to Professor Zizek
and I’ll tell you
he is not here

is unavailable
wowing some audience
with Lacanian psychoanalysis
or Hegelian dialectic
deriding
at a special forum
the exploitation of child soldiers
child armies
who to carry heavy war ordinance
look far too small

fighting for and against warlords who
ensure tech companies
get their raw materials
to make
the teeny-tiny phone
components

that allow you
to phone me out
of the blue, ask for Slavoj Zizek

would allow him, were he here,
to speak back to you

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

UNLESS IT IS

Tags

falsehood, lies, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, satire, Truth

UNLESS IT IS

a lie
is salad
dressing

a lie is
wallpaper

so many political lies and
yet no worries
think of them
like so much
ketchup

looks like blood but
it isn’t

unless it is