Shining threads

Shining threads

Friday 18 September 2020

Where do you find your poetry?

Where do you find your poetry?

In the foot on floor slide across the space?

Face pressed up against the glass. Cold, hard, squished.

All I can see is the surface opaqueness through absolute proximity. Transparency requires distance.

If we step outside, will our vision clear?

Trace your eyes across the scene until illumina flashes, and make your way with due haste.

Mark my words. 

Zero waste in experience - this Zen taste - this electric sky - this tantric lake - we partake in sensory sublimation and sexual salvation and sinuous sultriness and 

      slip inside this house - which has many rooms.

Walking the corridors of cosmic power, of infinitesimal immensity, of the ecstasy of minutiae, and precision where it counts.

Sometimes it is the whole scene,

and sometimes it is a selection, and sometimes a sole focus

Where you find your poetry? 

In the everything-everything and the this-that.  

Poetry finds me willing and ears primed... 

...to ride the rhythms of an aesthetically-charged reality. 


Monday 15 April 2019

Entwined

The Gods sit in the Garden.
Entwined - distinct and together.
A sexy symphony between deities.

Bodies strewn lasciviously amidst the meadows.
Naked flesh flashes sunlight corn shimmer. 
Wild flowers dance
kaleidoscopically in the wind.
Everyone who is here is here.

The expanse of verdant growth,
Too buoyant for economic measure.
Transcended categories of work and leisure.

We exist. Not Extinction. Beyond Rebellion.
Birds always flew. Insects always tottered.
Cats always enjoyed strokes and sometimes gave back.

This. Light distributed everywhere.
Shadows shift according to angelic direction.
The Universal sundial wheels around
the orgies on the ground.
As fierce intentions and tender hands are
Entwined - distinct and together. 

Wednesday 13 March 2019

Truth is a ruin

Truth is a ruin.
An abandoned castle,
Left in a cloud of dust,
By time’s forward thrust.

Desolation column and row,
Change and layer mock those who ‘know’.
Phantasmagoric stories float around
the graveyard of learning.
And the endlessly creative Earth indifferent
to intellectual yearning.

As soon as light hits your eyes, it is out of date.
As soon as words leave your mouth,
things are in a changed state.
Can you suspend the will to capture or express?
And just stick with this transcendent mess.

Truth is a ruin,
A folly of aristocratic falsity.
A theory of philosophical sophistry.
The Kingdom is fresh, wondrous and awake.
The kaleidoscopic Kingdom for Heaven’s sake.

Sunday 27 January 2019

Afrofuturist dreams

Porn stars and sex on Mars
In Afrofuturist dreams.

George Clinton’s got his groove on
And Sun Ra’s Arkestra are playing Pluto.

Blaxploration of cosmic realms. 

This, the futureperfect, come to fruition,
Diachronic time is the gift of revelation.
Eternity frames all mythic presences,
Swallowing us up in the Black Gold of the Sun. 

Tuesday 22 January 2019

Dylan was no hero of mine

She tempts you to defy it.
She invites you to untie it.
She beckons you to supply it.

And its opposite meets you halfway down,
because subconsciously this is what you want,
And you say it’s not what Dylan said would happen.

So we choose our heroes and they let us down
(though Dylan was no hero of mine),
because only you can get up on the ground 
that was 
always here.

You want to be a fraud? A fake? 
A generic mistake?

Face up to the faceless. 
And then that is embodied in this equal.

How then could the back to front be so perfect?
Her diamond mind says it’s just a point of view,
And nothing is as refreshing as every time you looked afresh,
And nothing is as refreshing as this,
And just dance.

Urban savage/wild gent

Each city laced by rough roads, polished paths,
and entwining a legion of stories.
Enough to exceed expectation.
Breaths rising, falling and coalescing
in fumes of carbon dioxide,
expressed thought/persona and divine rapture.

Oversouls embrace both town and mountain.
Gritty granular constellations
of dirt, pavement and rock formations.
The dragon’s wings curve 
through valley and dale, 
stream and striation.
Casting shadows from 
illuminations of the light 
that remains forever.

Urban savages snake up circuitous paths,
whether metropolitan or terranic.
The vistas from each and every worthy of ascent,
bring new and different aspects to vision.

And the depths are still mostly unknown,
like a watery night-sky,
filled with shooting stars 
of aqua-luminescence.

And the particulars are everywhere,
and you love what you love,
and that love transfigures,
making it sacred in your eyes.

Evade the stamp, subvert the mark,
unless it is your own,
and then collapse in communal hilarity,
which we all somewhat forget,
until it comes around again 

and again 

and 

again. 

Sunday 28 January 2018

Smiling metaphors and meaningful similes

Metaphors be with you.
Smiles with the similes.
Holler at the holographic truths.
Wry looks at the rhymes.
Driven by the rhythms.