QUANTUM LOVER (LOST FOR WORDS)

Tags

poem, poetry, quantum, Sexual innuendo, sexual symbolism, wordplay, writing

QUANTUM LOVER (LOST
FOR WORDS)

the quantum lover
appreciates entanglement
will never
diss or
dismiss it
just refuses to let himself
get overruled

his best (naturally)
is
twin slit experiment
(am I the
wave
are
you
the particle?

so dark in here, and unforgivably Platonic,
let’s shed
some light on the matter
go
Aristophanes

moments like this
hopping back and
forth
between metaphor
and synecdoche

your mouth open, making sounds consonant,
you got the rhythm, the rhythm
the rhythm

just
with all this practice versus theory
and sweet implementation

a trifle, a smidgen, a little iota of
all the small, small synonyms
in my thesaurus

lost for words

REVIVAL

Tags

death, philosophical, poem, poetry, wordplay, writing

REVIVAL

they tried
to revive
the philosopher

but he was
too cold

there was, once they
had removed the packaging,

no dotted line along which
to fold
or cut,
for that matter
if he needed surgery

for looking out
through the window
of this perspective

no one could tell
what he would need
for full reparation

whether a canto or a stanza
or just two
lines
might give him
enough life-
blood inspiration to
Lazarus rise

resume
teaching all
the empiricist and
rationalist stuff

impossible
to reconcile

BOMB

Tags

Comedy, comic, Narrative, Universe

BOMB

The best comedy show in the entire Universe brings together creatures from every corner of every galaxy.

I leave it to your imagination to picture the audience heckling that goes on when a stand up (using the word “stand” very loosely) bombs on a stage of truly cosmic proportions.

When you bomb there, it would be better if you were to just disintegrate. On the spot. Until you bomb there, you have never really bombed.

WASHED AWAY (IN SPAIN)

Tags

poem, poetry, wordplay, writing

WASHED AWAY (IN SPAIN)

do you have
the Literature

have you read it?
are you
poring over it
even as we speak.

Plainly, it is raining
a drenched to the skin
utter downpour

if you cannot find shelter
secure a roof over your head

all those pages
someone poured their
lifeblood into

are going to get
washed away

nothing is indelible
once it has
gone

however,
somehow, some way
some day,
it will return
be back again

ALL NIGHT

Tags

love, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, writing

ALL NIGHT

you read me
all night

but still
haven’t finished

the part where
you enter my
life
not yet
written

and still so much ink
in both our pens

RINGU

Tags

audience, Gollum, Lord of the Rings, media, poem, poetry, Reader, Ringu, television, The Ring

RINGU

you can’t step
in the same
river
twice

and the same monster
can’t climb through
your TV screen twice

your
precious TV set
you are watching
Lord of the Rings on
strangulated voice of
Andy Serkis
desperate to win
back thing
the Hobbitses stole

but beware
stuff, characters, demons
just popping in
through mirrors and
screens and
all things permeable

sitting comfortably on the sofa
to share you viewing experience
gnarled, prosthetic fingers
grabbing for
a biscuit, creeping towards
the potato chips

Gollum coughing and wheezing because
no fish in the popcorn

talking of reality
one has to
think television
because
the connection, once metonymic,
is now
in sickness and in health
marriage inseparable

poem too is permeable, but sadly
lacking comparatively

and lucky you are too
for there are wordsmiths who
do shapeshift, their
transformative powers bad
news for
your comfort zone

yes
you think it’s fake and
the words have

done enough
to put something
in that oven, strip search
and infiltrate you

so better buckle up, sharpen up,
no hope for you reading with
that glazed TV look and
obligatory commercial break to
feed your
imagination

or else
I will Ringu you
crawl out snake-like from
deep within
the subtext
the space between the lines
where your
curiosity
was needed

yep, could be
there before you
know it

curled up
cat-like in
your lap

(in which guise
a gorgeously green Orc woman
did once
surprise

no hive-mind jive
now
from those
redoubtable lips

many
love scars from
her conversion. )

LET ME

Tags

Ending, meaning, Metaphor, Metaphysical, metapoetic, poem, poetry, postmodern, Reader, transformation, wordplay, writing

LET ME

into this truly devious art
let me initiate you

what we have here
is a written document
scarcely different
from any other,
like Gutenberg’s Bible
in readable print

except, if you are sharp
of sense, quick
on the uptake
you may have discerned
in the pursuit of something
out of the ordinary
the lines are not
equal
lines are
not equal

and, dare I say it, there is oft repetition
(I wish to alert you to the possibility
you may well
be surprised to
encounter repetition)
and rhyme too: slight and subtle
or heavy and, ahem, egregious (yes, Mr Mathers,
I’m
pointing at you)

but
the one true difference
the one solid, spiritual difference,
that I’m sure
you will struggle to
agree with

is that
whilst documents are inked, poems
are in blood

like this little blood offering
you are welcome to
do what you wish with

feel free
to
sublimate this
sacrifice

use
it well

for purposes good,
better, best

or badly, yes
treacherously and
delicious badly

reading everything here quite otherwise
finding (alighting
upon)
no saccharine stand-in or make-do
but one-hundred and
ninety-nine percent ( I promise you)
raw
and refined
pure syrup-sweet perverse

SHORTCUT

Tags

Humanity, poem, poetry, Reader, wordplay, writing

SHORTCUT

Poem is
definite shortcut
to what
you cannot
possibly say
cannot
hope to write

shortcut to what?
you ask
(not really
paying attention)

let me elaborate
or,
on second thoughts,

let me
ponder this a while

get back to you
after a few centuries

when
meanings, reputations,
have much
solidified

or poetry
or the human race,
for that matter,
have ceased to exist

just plonk yourself down
here on this page, chill
for a bit, period.

I promise I or
someone speaking in my turn,
on my behalf
will
get back to you.

SHOULDERS OF GIANTS

Tags

intertextuality, philosophical, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, satire, wordplay, writing

SHOULDERS OF GIANTS

I stand on
the shoulders of giants
well, actually, squat

and they didn’t
consent to
lift me up

and some of them
are of moderate height
some
veritable pygmies
of you use athletic standards

standing, squatting
I filch their pockets
for oeuvres, folios, pages
and scraps
hey, who knows
when you won’t come across
a line and image that
you can borrow, by
which I mean steal,

no serious copyright in
this creative industry

if they scream
intellectual property

quote them Derrida and Kristeva
tell them they
are ignoramuses if
they haven’t heard
of intertextuality and
how
the game is
not the same
(and
if you are
still on their shoulders, clip
them
as you drop).

MY SIDE OF THE STORY

Tags

Humanity, identity, philosophical, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, power, Reader, writing

MY SIDE OF THE STORY

You inquire as to
the side am on

I beg your indulgence
to let me take but a moment
to step aside
interrogate the legitimacy
of that question

in a Universe known for non-
linearity, hybridity and
space-time curvature

place that I can define for myself
to read and write poetry
close, in your locality,
vicinity yet
way over on
the far side
of every clear category
in your line of thinking

Oh clever, you retort, ace dodging
of my question
as if we could suppose
that poem
doesn’t have lines too
is totally syntagmatic in
hand-walking the reader from
opening to ending
with some hint of
a new beginning
perhaps resurrection, as
last metaphor
mirrors the first, seemingly
insisting on an aesthetic of completion
and inevitable return

I smile
you have me

(the smile being different
according to your gender)

as if
the name life gave me
can let me off lightly

so many
poems and their poets
dying fighting for a cause
in a war

other poets, poems started.