Words
Poems
MAN KIND(for waris dirie)
eyelids down
drenched in righteuousness
spitting venom upon innocent skin
sworn
to secrecy
steeped in indignity
parading as,
cultural identity,
stapled sexuality
an egotist’s litany
controlling lives
with rusted knives
stitched virginity
with thorns of masculinity
the mouth clings to memory
as blood in dirt
an indelible history
drowned in theocracy
even diamonds slip to insignificance
as the price of purity
rises as does
the perpetual misery
be it religion or cultural
that shape the fear of the clitoral
all are evil and genocidal
eyelids open
drenched in morality
spit reason
upon decrepid ritual
DYSUNITEDNATION
(for babi badalov)
'everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution' article 14 of the universal declaration of human rights
in great great britain
land of hope and glory
land of the royal fairy tale story
patrol your borders obey their orders
but we spent 53 million on the dome
but close our hospitals and moan
at asylum seekers taking our money
our homes our jobs our liberty
lets lock em up before they destroy our economy
"ssssseeeeeeeeeee
we're valleee people we aint no racists
but if they cum yer you'll get ower fists"
in great great britain
this dysunited nation of red. white. and. blue.
of white male bigotry and children learning through
sun headlines and telegraphed lies
cameron proclaims brown denies
as refugees die in front of our eyes
as girls are stoned for falling in love
and men castrated for the forbidden touch
patrol your borders obey their orders
but we welcome hitachi aiwa toshiba and lg
we worship ronaldo nani and theire henri
yet we spit at frightened refugees
i propose that next time a politician or anybody mentions
the words detention and refugee
so casually-
i will ask them to look in my bible-
the dictionary
where they will see that refuge is the word before refugee
and detente comes before detention
so-
ignore their orders destroy all borders;
ignore their orders destroy all borders;
MOMENT OF LIGHT
(“Certum est quia impossibile est”
it is certain because it is impossible)
Tertullian
the world turns
people stand still
stare from suburban windows
looking for a sign
the trees wait
eyeing the chainsaws
splinters and papyrus
guide our todays
as shopping malls and stainedglass windows
bring us to our knees
as subservience is all we feel
religion the new race
followers are easy to replace
so belong or be gone
as blindfolded women with stapledshut eyes
are paraded through villages
to lie beneath stones
and rucksacks scream the word of god
place the veil, the hood, the orange boiler suit
to mark your ground and plead for enemies and infidels
and poppies flower in spilledblood sommed silence
as taleban lords harvest opium crops
to numb the masses
like bloodless crucifixion upon wooden crosses
and bush declares god is on our side
and blair expects significant.....................losses
so.
today
i have become a born again
atheist
bow to a river bank not the parting of the sea
sing to a star not an invisible man in the sky
and
i pray for prayers to be abandoned
mosques desserted, synagogues closed, churches morphed into poundshops
and the congregations will commune with one another
talk with one another laugh with one another
could this be how the shelling stops?
on a tiny piece of earth with no ownership manual
no ritual no prayerline 0800 number no tube of holy water that guarantees eternal life
no jihad no them no us
then they shall all be fucking saved
from a lifetime of waiting
because
the verb is more important than the noun
hey
oh, mighty father?
The Harming
you take pieces daily,
incoherent babble blisters naive eardrums,
not the slap, the hit, the rack of bones,
yet,
but the marching metre of maledicta,
the avalanche of atrophic adverbs
stemming sentences,
judgement delivered by javelin throated jury
serving loneliness,
silent mornings when only the birds sing,
the kitchen windows mist with heat from your mouth,
halatosed hours drip from burnt meat,
plug sockets spark from human static,
catatonia sings like stuck flies
the living room
dies
under the strain of bloated bodies,
starving each other.
no flowers bloom in this drabness
no rings cling to quell this petrified present
saliva drools from varicose lips as you snarl your attrition,
and i i i am nowhere to be seen
i do not live here
i only exist,
head ached, congealed groin
treading water in septic tank
as the people come and go
even jehovah's witnesses get a smile,
friends sip tea, phone calls taken,
then,
the bipolared grin,
the narcissist's indifference
this
this is my existence
thoughts fester like the ready meals i consume to satisfy this hunger.
i,
i have not touched another human, really touched, felt.held.
another,
for years; black out. forget. for death do us part.
a part.
i roam the house, looking for signs of life;
a child's book, an empty cup, frozen photograph.
i collapse in bed,
the dormant stone,
the sleeping grave,
growing growing
push face into cool pillows
do not move
suck black molasses
staple lips to pages
swallow ibuprofen
remind myself
i am alive
i am alive;
In Absentia
i light a candle for the absents
the almost forgotten, the waiting, the worn
a day light for the dark nights
a filament of throat from thought
i light a candle for the absents
the disappeared, the frightened,
the watching, the saturday fathers,
disneyland dads, happy meal patriachs,
contact controlled, access asked
permission prayered
the deadbeat, child support agents
no rights only deepest responsibility
i stare into the flame
see love and hate
unite
in
one
silent flicker
a black and white photograph in a golden frame
but
from the slit wrist
the rose will grow
from the distance
blazes the geography of the soul
like candles, we inhabit the night
absence is not abstention
what feeds the wick?
who starves the oxygen?
and
what man is not made from woman and man?
Keys to your Kingdom
(for Reg Keys)
privilege provides protection
from all the bombs and the hate
and affluence buys you abstention
from the battlefields of the occupied state
an accident of birth or
a victim of geography
the rules are not the same
for soldiers Keys, Tom and wales,prince harry
it is strange how harry's father and grandfather
parade like pariahs on Poppy Day
drenched in medals
splattered in ribbons like stapled cadavars
as,
Tom's father, only wears one,
the face of his murdered son,
where no tomorrows grow, today
as the holes gape like a cenotaph sunday
so, pride is indifferent to suffering
and suffering must be for the chosen
or so we are told
or led to believe in educational history lessons
in a coalition of the willing
it is only those chosen, ripe for the killing
oh wilfred your words
stick in my throat
nearly 90 years ago you wrote
"pro patria mori, the old lie"
you warned us yet no one heard
and your words drifted like ash in the november sky
as now, today, still,
young men are sent to another trench
in another country
for another man's pride
to fight another man's war
but
only if you don't matter
to the country you're fighting for.