Anthem for Doomed Truth

(In memory of the Pantisocratic poets)

There once was a garden

It had everything

You cannot imagine the joy it could bring

Its bounty and beauty both belonged to none

Yet at the same moment were for everyone

Let’s divide the beaches

Divide up the seas

Let’s judge every human by what he can seize

We’ll count out the mountains

And for further larks

We’ll make private parking

From all public parks

There once was a country

As big as the world

Then came a tooled primate whose notions unfurled

Taxonomic visions and fearsome greed

Well you can imagine how it would proceed

So sing out the anthems

Draw up the lines

The border’s a prison by what it defines

Ignore common feeling

And try to repress

How shared Love and Fear

Make us one with the rest

Neither here nor there

(a nonsense poem)

It seems we need a point to see


So measure speed from A to B

A firefly to C the slit 


Pretending lightning aims the hit


A card I bought in Journeys Friend


Read, "No beginning means no end"


Then no before, or before that!


No cat that sat upon the mat?

It’s how the minus finds its mate


That noctilucale wink of fate...


With headlamps shone to guide the car


Of chauffeur-driven Lucifer [ouch]

The Colour Chart

I hear you’re tearing our your heart

To see if there’s a stain within

And checking on the colour chart

If it is ‘good’ or full of ‘sin’.

Will you for one believe the hype

Of structural deficiencies

Contained within the genotype

Thus rid them with efficiencies?

A Dulux card humanity

For hue and cry complexity

With colour codes of sanity

I’ll tell you want perplexes me…

No man’s an island in this verse

As ‘self’ reflects the shifting word

Like atoms in the universe

It decoheres until it’s heard.

The senses fill and colour in

Without an eye the sky’s not blue

With world views and the shades of skin

They’ll kindly colour you in too.

Come tear the beat from out your chest

And empty out your inner sphere

Submit the whole lot to this test

Then see if ‘you’ can reappear.

ID#1

"A man-made Star!"
Dreamed star-made Man
To shine immortally
So Everything is Nothing planned
In tandem constantly.

Agenda Bender

“An X or a Y?” I don’t tell, don’t ask;

Not caring much about which has the task  

Of framing the rest.  It’s what else is there -

The lie of the mind ‘neath its visual lair.

Should we locate the switch;

Does it start in the brain?

With a chemical cocktail to drug us insane.

Inelegant patterns, from (im)proper classes,

Don’t fully equate to life’s fumbling passes.

A borderless love with a lack of distinction

Maybe scheme of the future (or doomed to extinction).

It is rather odd how most language pretends

To some sexualized vision of how all sense ends.

Whatever.  Are you the type that berates

A personal past ‘cos it double-X rates?

It might be part genes.  Did mine go askew

If I care who you are more that how we might

Discuss epistemology?

Ode on a Dark Knight

(a poem for Shab-e Yalda)

He walks in beauty, like the Knight,


Refusing Sovereign; Rather shies


From usual armor, for the fight


To wrestle meaning from the lies.


The Persian poets sought Divine

Through whirling turns of godly dance,


And reveries of ruby wine;

They're drunk when given half a chance.



In Xanadu, Sam found his mate
,

Inspired by the addict verse,


With some exotic opiate,


Came fit of wit to do its worse
.

So, bit by bit, I have turned junkie


To a ghost, a phantom limb,

Of a special magic monkey.


I cannot scratch this itch for him.


I’m fair sozzled on the Word.

Hooked. Veiled, they communicate

A face unseen, a voice unheard.

This sucker's punched. It is my fate.

As Paraclaus sits at adore


A-musing on a letter;


The Raven mutters, "Nevermore" - 


Some longings hid are better.

The Director's Cut

To readdress our Mystery

With human telly-ology

I give you some small history

Of telling stories visually.

A queen walked in with regal shout

But in the cut, instead stormed out

And while this edit was divine

The regulator said, "Not fine".

You see it's really quite a crime

So royally to play with Time.

Now Avid tales can all be told

By putting 'new' before the 'old'

We must maintain the shared pretense

That cameras show 'real' events

(Though honestly no one can say

How this permits a cutaway).

With EDLs that may address

'Facts' with more moves than those of chess

As messages in poetry

May order sense with symmetry.

It's no great threat to most of Art

To put the horse behind the cart -

But to get human from a fish

Takes frequent asymmetric wish.

Since entropy forever free

Does not provide complexity,

Though often sense appears post hoc

You can't make soup before the stock.

And this is why you cannot plan

Without eggs breaking omelette an.


(some background for our overseas viewers http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1557283/BBC-blames-RDF-for-insult-to-the-Queen.html)