Tag: writing
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Why bother?
Why should I bother? No one knows My silent audience plauditless Along plodding, verb-bodied Grendel Tossing men verbosely across longhalls Howling ferociously, returning to my fen. When I go and poes no more flow from me Weeping policeman calmed at last When great heaped cone of my effort turns over to a draining funnel And…
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Poetry is fucked, not dead
Ovid for the Covid epoch Bard-throated, in word coated Sadly born now poetry is over Once open’d door, sweet dulcify The lie sweetest smelling in telling Now closed forever, a sewn mouth.
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Looting
History circuitous, repetitious For the Irish, rarely surreptitious As rights rise like tides of changing ages Venice’s cancer’s final stage From sacred hollows mystical weapons are pried Durandal pulled from stone and stolen, like Scone’s stone How long until Thule and Horbiger’s icebox are taught in schools? Of the lance of Longinus, spearing Eden’s seed…
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St. Stephen, no wren friend
Somewhere in Dublin a frigid forecourt in storm North King Street worming behind Four Courts Wet catchyourdeath chill alright, oldtown silhouette Later belching towers’ll smoulder there, giant cigarettes Nearby St. Stephen’s lazaret Outside which stabbed faction fighters are left after a decent Donnybrook Melee broke out, two villages a single scrimmage Such blood spillage a…
Alchemisland 