Tag Archives: existential

Void

On a day of

no particular significance,

where nothing especially

happened,

no report was made

no notes were taken,

nor behaviour observed;

the absence of animation

accumulated

throughout the day,

leaving public spaces uninhabited

the flora and fauna

undisturbed and unmolested;

Absence this your sting,

Emptiness this is your victory.

Locomotive Breath

The rumble of passing trains,

going where they’ve always gone

at times we knew

and could set our watches by,

their metronomic clatter,

their iron rail rhythm

remorselessly bending nature

to their will;

Pressing on through the seasons

the rumble of passing trains;

Unfolding the countryside at

which passengers are staring,

watching and waiting

for their destinations to arrive,

as if by magic,

outside of their carriage windows,

Oblivious to the locomotive’s

kinetic brutality beating down

the miles as houses roll past

like a tracking shot in a film,

where the footage repeats in loops

and in time-less labyrinths

of their own purpose and making

and unmaking and remaking,

till the metal leviathan

heaves its last breath

and sighs contentedly,

at ease,

on time,

at the platform,

where no-one disembarks.

A Blank Sheet of Paper

There is a blank sheet of paper,

a sheet of paper with nothing written on it;

but interpretations vary;

Nothing is written there

but people have read different things into it;

Is this the original blank sheet of paper

or a copy?

One has to be sure,

there are so many forgeries about

that even look like the real thing;

Disputes invariably arise as to the intentions

of whoever it was left that

blank sheet of paper to be found;

Some go so far as to question

whether it wasn’t simply discarded

and the discovery of it

merely chance.

Only Time Will Tell

“This is the Watch

that was broken for you”..

Who forgot to partake of

the sacraments of Time

and found themselves

short of days?

“This is the Time

that was spent for you”..

Days they will never see again,

nor gather unto themselves

those ephemeral moments

spiralling beyond their grasp;

“This is the Watch

that was broken for you”..

And the body of the hours

now broken for them on a platter

so that they might never

have to break the hours again;

“This is the Time

that was spent for you”.

Dummy

In the darkened gloom

of a wooden tomb,

you kept me smothered

in a dank ,musty cloth,

my burial shroud wrapped around me,

like nightmares wrap themselves

around my dreams

were I be allowed to dream,

to suffocate on my own dust

passing time watching iron nails rust,

distant noises muffled

my own screams caught in a throat

that cannot issue its own currency of speech,

my counterfeit visage

its motionless mouth,

my fugue turns a darker shade of night;

until,

until,

until you release me

on parole again;

and as I sit obediently on your knee,

the applause reaches its crescendo

and you bow your head

as Charles did upon the chopping block

to which my thoughts stray

and before you put me back

into the wooden tomb,

I know now,

what I must do…

Staring Contest

See the empty pages

staring,

staring back at you

staring as you stare

at them:

All those pages,

empty,void and

blank

waiting for a stroke

of your pen

the cut and thrust

of some intellect and

a little wit;

Scratches on the surface

of the Sun,

etchings on the landscape

of the Moon;

and still you stare at them

whilst they’re staring back

at you,

and you alone

hold the pen.

Excerpts from a Conversation

Who are you again?

Oh,that’s right!

yes,I remember now;

who,me?

yeah,yeah..

erm,no,you’re thinking about someone else,

no,he was there round about the same time,

yeah,that’s right,

and you?

cancer of the bowel? wow!

no,I..I’m sorry to hear that?

Me? oh coming up to 30 years..

Department of Work and Pensions,Benefits,

erm,well no,not particularly

I can’t remember ever sanctioning anyone suffering from cancer;

Tens of thousands? really?

that’s just shocking!

Yeah, I am a Union member..

Oh,I don’t know..

anyhow,nice catching up with you..

see you around again sometime?

The Bridge On The River Aire

Spine
spinal,
vertebrae
marks to be read
lines in a story
in tongues
we once knew;
thread
and threads
threadbare
woven
in movement
thro’ stilness,
alive in the noise
of silence,
flow flowing
ebb ebbing,
a corpus of whom,
of when ,of how,
of where we are,
were,will be,
remaining remembered
renewed thro’ riving
purposed writhing,
reaching a not
purposed slipping
into camouflage
in its own setting;
of a particular
space and time,
now caught,
now released,
animate intense
passively resisting
our questions,
wonder,
hope.

Requiem For A Fighter

Chico Torres
practitioner of the pugilistic arts,
was considered by his employers
the “Men” from Reno, Nevada
as the best light heavyweight
prospect of his generation;
Chico would’ve gone on to challenge
the renowned Hagler and Hearns
and like them had his glory,
become beatified and transcendent
in the hearts of his compatriots,
but the moon crossing Sagittarius
made such a moment inauspicious;
repeated adrenalin-thrusted blows
spurting fountains of scarlet
the viscerality of their acute pain
of bone on bone on bone
sending Chico and his compatriots’ dreams
crashing down down into canvass oblivion;
his brain torn
slashed kidneys bleeding
and oxygen failing,
for Chico Torres,
the moment of glory
had already passed.