Author Archives: Louis Kasatkin

About Louis Kasatkin

Unadulterated commentary and analyses on all aspects of contemporary literary arts news and topics, can be viewed on twitter under the cunning guise of @louiskasatkin also at my blogs,"fahrenheit451"on blogger.com and "And So It Goes"@ www.wordpress.com My facebook page etc.etc, ad infinitum...

Palimpsests

I wake up this morning

to the empty sky..

What are words worth

when they are no longer new?

When we hear some haunting lyrics,

eloquent,elegiac,ephemeral,

so perfect,so borrowed

on a morning when

the Sun itself is no longer new

let alone all the things under it;

what shall keep us company

on dark winter evenings

if we’re not wrapped in the cloak

of a borrowed nostalgia that

recalls and replays on an

endless,endless loop

words that are no longer new

and what are words worth

as I wake up this morning

to the empty sky..

A Sailor’s Lament

They departed the harbour of Reason,

set sail across the Sea of Madness

with no prospect of making landfall any time soon;

” Come with us to the edge of the World “,

” Voyage with us into the Unknown “;

And the Sailor looked at the King’s

shilling which he held in the palm of his

hand,had exchanged his liberty for it

and after mature consideration

tossed it into the waves.

Another Tale From The Nursery

In the valley of the idiots where a half-wit was King, it was ordered that:-

the use of the letter “E” will be made illegal from to-day onwards,

an official spokesman said that

the letter “E” was identified as the main cause for the exponential growth of words in the language;

and has in the past been responsible for numerous mis-spellings and confusion surrounding its usage in words also containing the letter “i”.

The order takes into account the expert advice of independent literary academics and is seen as a necessary step toward making the language leaner and fitter for purpose;

Again following expert guidance, words of 6 or more letters will no longer be permitted in public discourse but there will be no additional restrictions on their use in conversations held in a single household or with neighbours.

Police have been granted special enforcement powers to issue a 10000 pounds fine on those caught flouting the new rules on word length and use of the “E”.

Event Horizon

Greyless grey

endless grey,

where beginnings began

and endings end

Shifting times of sand

where distances ran

out of time and space

and having run

ended their race;

No-one waited for

tide nor time

no-one not even you

and when time and tide

together were gone,

ebbed into the long ago

long awaited now

you were nowhere to be seen,

You were seen,

Nowhere,

where you’ve always been

remaining remaindered

forgotten forgetting

in

Greyless grey.

Everyday

Gibbet – shadowed the long slaughter
of hang – dog afternoons is shaking fleas
at screw-top topless towers ,
– holier than thou –
sweeter than nectar
sea captain’s sermons drowning
empty pots with their cloudburst
souls’ everyday oceans ,
neatly dispensing into quartered calico
absconded tanners,fortuitous recompense
for dismal hours spent not having
an evening loud with beer;

Ragged evenings’ dust-bowled veins
irrigated by glamorous gold nectar ,
restoring exhausted tongues with ,
stories , myths and inebriate fables
of addle-arsed angels serving
plates of tepid manna to wizened ,
crouching rats cornered by a nostalgia
for drooping eyelid afternoons ,
dry as bones sucked to a gleam ,
by licentious hyenas no longer in vogue ,
their severed heads staring
at stones ripped away from
redundant wombs that bled black clouds ,
of court-martialled men
in towns washed by crocodiles’ saline ,
applied by nightingales
to Crimean wounds ;

Ruptured virgin dawns implode
on tongues royally buried
in ashen debris pyramids ,
where squatting toad soliloquies
excavated from the lava depict ,
silken bursting bowel purses
drenching furtive hedges with
their sows’ ears coin congested bile ,
gently loosening lessening
throngs’ senile embrace of
cauterised eulogies morse-coded
beyond adagioed horizons of corteged streets,
their veiled memories of sunken maydayed hives,
charred opiate lives exhaled through membranes
into the ” open sesame ! ” promised grey ,
twisting ,slowly slowly in its Turin-shrouded dreams.

( This poem has lain virtually untouched and unpublished in my personal archives since circa 1988 , a jejeune ” homage ” of sorts to ” Under Milkwood ” and ” Ulysses ” )

Existential Allegory #83

There once was a beggar,

blind from birth,

sat by the city’s gates

who would shout out,

from time to time:

Why are you looking at me?

then one day

a passerby stopped

on hearing the beggar’s cry

and asked

how do you know if someone is looking at you?

the sightless mendicant replied

I’m allowed to guess,aren’t I?

Too Busy..

Hello..goodbye,

never said much,

always too busy;

Don’t know why

wouldn’t say,

always too busy;

Dropped a line

wouldn’t reply

always too busy;

Cards and letters

never received,

out of the country

would you believe,

always too busy;

Death notice

somewhere abroad

didn’t check out

found the next day,

Room service?

always too busy.

————————–

Author’s Footnote:

(one of my very early performance pieces circa 1997)