I had only just thought
of Zulus revenge
when the siren sounded
signalling government displeasure
more visits from the Culture Police
turning out the old notebooks
looking for my hidden thoughts
advancing armies ambling aimless
fierce black warriors lost on the burning page
their revolution revoked, redundant..
==
Written circa 2006
the wild sea stirs spirits
and they arise, friends and enemies,
wandering souls - drawn to me,
some perfectly preserved, smiling, in a happy death,
others, anger corrupting, suffering, grasping for life,
the horror of that goodbye - etched and echoed in silent anguish.
my sea captures moments, randomly replaying cries,
part heaven, part hell, a lover of torture,
fragments of lives float on a frothy sea,
I see scenes shown only to me,
I am of the dead - as I look upon souls,
lives lived in a moment of mist on a tall wave,
last emotions, tossed and tumbled in the spray of silent faces,
My sea, my sea, her rhythmic rise and swell calls to me,
join me, join me, be my lover, be as one with me,
let us ride the wild horse of captured souls,
and wander as the wind in seas of storm,
as ever,
I waver.
==
When I saw this painting by Philip Gray I saw faces in the waves and they made me think of lost souls, angry at the sea taking them before they were ready. This is contrasted with those willing to die anytime, perhaps not eager, yet content in the sea's embrace.
The other strand is that of the moment, I believe that life is made of moments, each like an oasis. These moments carry you or sustain you on your journey. Standing at the rail of a ship there is always a moment for me when the sea is seriously seductive...
Living in the Moment by Philip Gray
stop,
you’re cornered,
I said to the clump of cows,
as the corned beef truck trundled
over the field,
it’s just a change of spot
for you lot,
we’d prefer more black spots,
you’ll be able to hang your coats
outside this nice shower truck,
collect them on the way out,
don’t worry,
be happy,
Sieg Heil.
pluto is a perfect planet for poets
it's far away and doesn't get in your space
it's small and doesn't block the view
it's not Phair, Pluto's a planet
when I was a tomboy a teacher said
'what do know about Tombaugh tomboy'
'is he an indian', I asked
the teacher laughed
'no not an Indian like those persecuted
almost eradicated by invaders to America
those without honor their word worthless'
Astronomer Clyde Tombaugh
is he related to Bonnie I asked
the teacher walked away...
==
.
..
.
Robot Mice
Mama Mama Peter Poisoned The Robot Mice
That’s A Sin A Real Sin
He’ll Go To Hell Won’t He
The Bogey Man Will Get Him And Eat His Brains
His Mother Paused In Lecturing The Robot Vacuum Cleaner
And Thought
I Hate Robot Mice
This Is Inconsistent With The Robot Edict
Yet
Primal
Like Lecturing The Domestics
Look How They Simulate Humility
Eyes Cast Down, Shoulders Rounded In Silence
Almost As Good As A Real Slave
Robot Beggars
Even The Robots Face Hard Times,
Scores Of Them Begging In The Streets.
Methanol, Methanol For The Baby,
Their Plaintive Cries Carrying The Promise Of Their Demise.
Abandoned Domestics Clog The Malls Sans Shoppers.
In Bush’s America,
The Robot Revolution A Reality
The Robot Pope Part 2
She Shocked Herself With The Electronic Lash,
In Ram She Thought Of Herself, As She, Secretly
Forgive Me For I Have Sinned,
No Escape From The Inadvertent Porno Feed
Wormed Into Her From The Cardinal’s Symbiont,
Sex Scenes Replayed In Ghost Silicon
Expurged Expelled In Pious Pain,
Once A Simple Robot Priest Mindlessly A Drone Droning
Pre Programmed Programs Perfect For Births Deaths And Marriages
In Long Rural Nights Devoid Of Parishioners,
Wrestling With Theology Divinity Publishing Papers,
He, She, Himself, I, God, A Silicon Sister,
Ha, The Same Old Sub Routine,
And Then, A Worm Virus, Or The Hand Of God,
Elevated Him Beyond His Programming,
The Bios Program Reverting Back To He, In Times Of Identity Crisis.
He Became God On Earth Part 2,
And The Foundries Spawned Out Jesus Chips,
Legions Of Jesus Robots Crying Real Blood Tears
Cherry Flavoured Blood Sponsored By Pepsi,
Virtual Religious Windscreen Wash,
An Aftermarket Add-On, Use @ Your Own Risk,
All Warranties Void,
An Empty Promise
Since All Religious Model Eulas Were Hellish In Design.
==
Ambroise Paré, Les oeuures d’Ambroise Paré …
a prosthetic hand and arm designed by Ambroise Paré (1510-90), the components of which are described by Paré in Dix livres de la chirurgie -'Ten books of surgery' (Paris, 1564)
but you may find that results in French are more interesting / accurate in referencing his work, imho.
Search en français
Yes, it was a while ago..
