I sit here
staring my demons in the face
crawling ever towards
over my dreams these dark things drool and hiss-
threatening to feast and
inside my head nothing leave-
So-I-panic writing faster-
when it all stops,
go Slowly now
the word is holy,
study my church
writing my prayer
because the word is holy.
the word is
the word, das worde, whatever language or nature or time or place it is the word
in the brain made by words and words alone, words we share a thousand times in a thousand ways in all our days relays
remakes the links of our ancestors anew
uniting us, inspiring us to communicate in ways that drive us onward but,
on repeat still defeat the goal of the species to communicate is to unite
be a part
of This World
our society woven
Reasoning is liquid, ever changing and shapeless defining the self in society.
Drive is gaseous, the wind overrider of intellectual tides, or a guide
Social life is a landscape, full of valleys and hills, gorges and mountains and
Passion, which can scatter intellect wide, along with Drive,
Passion burns eternal beneath the landscape of life.
You are the wind and the water. Blow hard enough and your mind is guided,
drive is Will, and if the Will-wind is steady
your reasoning will ripple into eddies-wavelets-waves
tsunami’s of the brain that will reshape your Lifescape
the recently Dead
or asking about:
prison life, from an ex-prisoners lips
war from the warriors
business, from the bosses
drugs, from the junkies.
Or the facts that:
cosmetics kill animals
mobile phones destroy the earth
facebook owns people’s time
some poetry rhymes
most stories are written simply for a good time,
academics invent words to hide their simplicity
there’s something inherently wrong with man’s big cities.
Every one of these subjects is taboo, not talked about,
because no one wants to admit out loud
no one takes, the longer view-
that our biggest mistake is not talking about war or what we did on the loo
our biggest mistake, is, frankly, Taboo.
certain superfluous intent
to initiate emotional pain
truth’s defence, with artless insult.
So beautiful, her lips, bright teeth flesh find
bite-sting awakens something wild inside,
whole self in a move
pure love in a rythmn
passion in a grip as from her tongue unthinking obscenities slip, silkily
into that bubble of heat,
made only when lovers loving equally meet,
at the sweet peak, we part, warmed within,
slowing down, to rest,
total stillness in a lover,
is only for death.
whether you’re green, blue
plastic, stillborn or overdue you’re still,
constructed of slowly vibrating energy arranged in discernable fields we know as
proton, electron, neutron, forming atoms forming particles forming people in places forming races nations movements religions all groups making decisions but,
you do. you’re needed by someone, for something, somewhere even its only to maintain your tiny place in the endless pattern of living things woven by birth and death, war peace social increase, global warming and midnight feasts all just rearrangements of what the world and you will always be
Give all the bears a gun, still they wouldn’t shoot
‘why shoot those little things, with their glass-eyes and boots?’ they’d say
theirs is the true hunt, for food THEN for fun,
understand, the big game grand
aren’t a game, they’re lives lived out
then taken by brutes with .204 lumps
in the body or brain, or sometimes in the dusty earth,
once they’ve caused the pain
by the shooters and their friends who
believe in bollocks
like a right to kill
a right to take life because they’ve got the weapons too.
Now this verse isnt subtle, nor is it meant to be.
It’s meant to be a warning, to the hunter wannabes
guns and gear dont make you , your still cowardly butchers
slaughtering beauty in outdoor abbatoirs
you are brutes, eco-enemys, acclerating-
the extinction clock
may death find you quickly
as it does the animals you slay
I hope the pain you cause is returned to you, one day.