27 March 2017

Heavy Arithmetic

Clock-Face

it’s a heavy arithmetic

that measures out the hours

and subtracts the days of our reckoning

time spent more in hope than knowledge

of a final destination at journey’s end

our rusted factory eyes lack lustre

they’re fixed on horizons far away

where our dreams now live in exile

and yesterday’s tomorrows accumulate decay

is it true what I heard you say?

you made a binding promise

that you would wait forever

for forever and a day

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13 March 2017

Hoor Maister

Little-Black-Book_01

She had suspicions, but that’s all she had. I denied everything, but my denials only made her more insistent. She started to cast names. She said I was a liar and a cheat. She called me a hoor maister. That was a lie. I am not a hoor maister. My interests have never been proprietorial. I’m strictly speaking an enthusiast and not a professional.

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10 March 2017

Revolution

Revolution

They say that hunger makes thieves of us all and that poverty lurks in slender pay packets. Many of us now live hand to mouth and day to day. Under competent governance poverty would be something to be ashamed of. In a poorly governed country it is wealth we should be ashamed of.

This nation of beggars steals garbage from supermarkets and panhandles for pennies in the high street. We slave on zero hours contracts and abide on the never never. The illusion of luxury piped into our domiciles on subtle carrier waves is enough to buy our good will for men of treasonous intent. While we are punished for the nameless crimes of our fathers - they inherit our souls by means of scientific management.

The inequality between rich and poor is an old and fatal ailment in all nations. Poverty is at the root of revolution, and revolution is the root of change. Revolution is more than the battle for power, it is an act of love, a struggle for the future of our children. The moment is fast approaching – the time for change is now.

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5 March 2017

Catechism

rosary

I pulled the plug

the dividends were huge

I cut the chord

and learned how to breathe

I renounce violence

in its every dimension

I own my fear

if fear becomes me

When pricked I bleed

When so moved I cry

but celebrate life’s little gifts

In accordance with my temperament

and the precepts of universal love

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23 February 2017

Walls & Guns

wall-02

 

There is more smoke than fire

in this dystopia

Less fact than fiction

in the corridors of power

These are the days of empty rhetoric

Of pointing fingers

and wagging tongues

This is not the age of reason

this is a time of walls and guns.

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22 February 2017

Adios Amigos

Statue-of-Liberty

They’re busing migrants to the border.

These huddled masses

draw their last free breath

beneath the statue of bigotry.

We’re building walls

and digging trenches.

Planting the seeds of our destruction

on our very own doorsteps.

We are as a people suicidal.

They say it’s written in the book.

That the signs are everywhere

if you care enough to look.

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28 January 2017

Big Dog

Dog of breed rottweiler.

He looked like a big dog. He barked like a big dog. I was suitably unimpressed. I’d forgotten to be afraid. Somewhere along the road I’d shed my fear and the casual air of violence that once served to mask it. Strange how we forget our chains, only to recall their chaffing in the absent moment; how could I ever dismiss a lifetime of slavery?

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13 December 2016

A Prayer

exit

I said a prayer to the highway god.

Please don’t let me die alone

Out on this road

So far from home

They say that hungry worms conspire to rend the flesh of the recently expired. That we return to whence we came – to that unknown place which bears no name. Some say we’ll rise again to know no sorrow – to feel no pain. I don’t know the truth in that, because I’ve seen death up close and I don’t see no way back. So if I fall before my time; bury me beneath the sign that points my way back home; and carve upon my stone that he was here and now is gone.

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