Three Poems

  1. To Whom are we to Go?

Loftiness of high authority

Loveliness of meek humility


An iron fortitude

A gentle servitude


Objective, set, insistent

Discursive, easy instrument


Acknowledged Lord of all

Submissive lowly leal


Tough unto rigor

Soft unto melting


Abused humiliated

Approved authenticated


Love in each breath

True even to death



2. Spoiler

For some fit crime

Clay vessels here are dangling

Swung independently together

In a vacuum cloud of blether


And Justice Time

Presides, interrogates, instructs,

A hidden jury set at work


Their janitor’s continuum correction


In life, in lives, like surgeons’ knives



The appropriate operation to make good and true

Infarcted hearts

Vascular flows constricted in our tenderest parts


Staked cunning, coining money, issuing lading bills,

Exhorting, importing, collating frail behaviours

Impelling, extolling, grateful callow labours

Calling at various carious stations on the way

So as that some alight and some time takes away

And nothing done, nothing entered; all is desuetude

Imperious nature gathering all, nous testifies is true –

So slowly towards being lowly we begin to stagger


The offices of Time do weather each one onwards southerly

Coursing us in our youth; thereafter in our prime

Maintaining in the chase pell-mell; eventual eld compels

Our last small angel wrestle on the bottom tread


On trains, on boats and planes each turning’s learning

Each stopover or destination enters cost

Each term, semester, furlough passed for good and ill

A meet proportion sacrificed to cavalier freewill

Peeps, futures, redolent on sighted eyes

Hear strictures derelict to tutored ears


A zone for fruit of resolution introduces

A plainsong tone – sings salad day’s missed graces

Again to atone for our own Janus faces

A strain before the passing places well appear


You find


And then’s: “The next one right in here please”

“Now move along”

Synthetic mourners shuffling out from a quite small affair

Stifled by stuffy sombrenesses, gasping seek for air

Bursts automatedly a vast rude chattering

Sudden and loudly bustling to affirm them; flattering

Fake wheezes, blind designs, to outsmart easeful death

Whose stink one moment lingering on their wearied breath




True time’s a teacher breaches ramparts mothers cannot breach

Beyond all pale selections of the shallow conscious dream

Denote it as the sword of God; two-edged, dividing all

Making of goats to sheep by blanching white their fleeces

And mayhap you think so – or think this folly?

And bank indeed this life it is most jolly


Then think you what you know – who greens the holly?

Bazaars the stars, and interfaces matter,

Enjoins with spirit, capitulating sin

Washes our souls in times of troubling

Awakening us His slow catechumen


These then The Spoils of Time – our homeworks handed-in



3. Post-post-Prosperity

Tired, and has no relevance; a onetime dream-team bus

Belonging nowhere now nor nowhere now to go

Crackpot idea; its cred in deep arrears

And loaning

Last season’s module’s broken life-support


Buyers in shopping aisles declare their ordinal mean streak

Of animal facility, wear pheromones of musk

Corsairs a-cruising

Running up and down raiding commodities


Obey carnalities

Clasped: a last pepperoni

The mustard, camomile, are grabbed

Lunges of broad intent forage on what’s been tagged

In treacle mines behind the eyes where rarebits rainbows’

Tasting redoubtably consolidate slow thought


Declared upon the next man, the next woman: “repel boarders’

Then executes an emulation of the natural order

Assuming adaptation, an empathic notion chunters

In minds, comparatives on Neolithic hunters:


An oaty bar!


A flick, a sudden tick, of wrist, of eye

Her trolley rumbles agonistes swiftly by

And gone, consumed, hand-amputated pelfs

Robbed of confections, the ravaged hijacked shelves

Now in the bag; another shopper idly by

Awaiting, contemplating, body-shunted clean away

Decision for collision triumphs; attrition wins the day!


Morsel manners munching feast on delicacy drowned

Actors and ethics disengage, dispute on salted loin,

Incisors carve up overbought onlookers

Assever hastily – a twitch disturbs broad blethers

And in the trolley on the money goodies scrumped,

Hit panic’s handle, shuffle, bag up tasty rump


Here for your tears no hiding place materialises

Only unholy insurrections done in different guises

All forerunner idols, ideals, broken down, divested

Passed through the fire and no-noes deemed as carbon dated,

And abject disaffection swells the common forms

A consummate defection rings; the question hangs


Remarking Michaelmass and Calends of the Church

(Excepting some confusions shouting such: “Bring back the birch!”)

Associates with godliness and living truth

An iron rigor and no Virgin birth forsooth

Rod ironclad for others only; let the privy wolf

Cry not upon himself; cry on only other wolf


Homely sat holiness time-was, proposed a model

Forefingers licked flicked holy pages; not foreseeing

This flecked appliqué of promenade apostasy


An evil time


Our sewn-up grown-up social nursery rhymes

Eclectic burial games

And selfish movie hero instantiations

On bloodline Christs, on dumb generic cult aspersions

Even Socrates made bum

Who had he lived a Python had become


Rock star to huckster we are all indited

We are the champions: Manchester benighted!

Who in the world needs manners? Manners maketh man

We’re in a woman’s world; freed from the frying pan


Be we fragmented, atomised, largely unfussed

Happily grumblers one and all, our egotisms thrust

Power the finest hour, lamb ensoused the favourite Hirst

Ours is an art of hustling, with a temperament for brass

Oligarchy our worship; inclination all our fun


What a compound of such persons? Never since the world began!

%d bloggers like this: