Takeaways

In Time.
Stuck
on Saturday’s scaled skin.
The seconds smell like salt,
and a thousand aberrations
scar the surface:
You can’t change the ever-forming.

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Created

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An earth unwilling animated
by the grey veins of history
spawns monuments to Ego
and trinkets labeled “Mystery.”
Watch! Keep watch!
Strain to catch a sight unseen:
the monstrous mechanical marionette
casts a shadow on the Green.

“Do you have the time? What day is it today?”
The monstrous mechanical
does not know what to say.

“Do you have the time? These hours march alone.”
The Emperor’s clothes are stripped away,
revealing brittle bone.

“Do you have the time? Please, may we share?”
The seconds stand to attention
and stab the naked air.

We have not the time,
the time to understand
the greying veins of history
that pump the metal hand.

We have not the time,
the time to comprehend
this shifting shadow upon the Green,
the Beginning,
and the End.

The face of Time is strangely flat.
Its arms are odd
and harsh
and hated.
This history is a force created,
made Holy, Other,
elevated,
by gods and guns and gears and grime,
we can’t ourselves redeem the time,
we can’t (we won’t) survive the war:
history is a force created
but Grace comes from Before.

 


Brought to you by a heady cocktail of travel, jet lag, and ( yet again) TS Eliot.

 

Footfalls

Skyline
Christchurch-Wellington flight, 29/08/2018

Betrayed by the familiar
and crushed by contentment,
movement becomes revolution:
painful, traumatic, vital.
Movement is Divine:
a rigorous Liturgy
of rise and fall,
rise and fall.
Footfalls
shake the firmament
but the familiar is dogmatic,
it masquerades
as automatic,
while demanding
practise
and study
and hours of committed prostration
as songs sluggishly slide down the slope
of seared souls
and rise from the ruin
of modest goals,
chanting
“It’s not worth it!”
“It’s not worth it!”
“It doesn’t matter,
it’s not perfect!”

Footfalls
shake the firmament
and defy arcane design,
footfalls shake the firmament
because movement is Divine.

Ghosts and Whispers

Stories are Ghosts and whispers

from the margins of the mind.

These fragments misremembered,

organic, unrefined,

are soon turned into images

and narratives designed

to make our lives seem simple,

well-ordered, and divined.

But when we return to Silence

we will surely find

that our souls are truly welcome

in the margins of the mind.

St. Thom’s March

Untitled (Zdzislaw Beksinski)

Father, Father,

my Lord Jesus,

help me in my unbelief!

My heart, my heart,

that rebel power,

cries out for relief

from my Christian soul,

and my Pagan mind-

these passions, passions,

are at war

and The Hound’s harsh teeth,

by light defined,

have left me open,

bleeding,

raw:

a great gash

barely bound

by the patchwork.

Grace-and-Law.

Casualties, casualties,

(bodies bare)

blot out the sun,

and line the field:

the white-toothed general stays behind,

laughs,

commands us not to yield.

Father, Father,

my Lord Jesus,

I’m afraid,

I cannot see,

and I cannot hold on to you,

please do not let go of me.

Your Future

Gold foretold by tea leaves,

Success etched on your palms,

The spirits will tell you more, my friend,

If only you’d give alms!

The sheep’s guts whisper “fortune”,

And the Tarot cards whisper “fame”,

Look upon the Ouija board:

You’ll see this is no game!

The beings beyond the thin place

Will destroy this tedium,

And you’ll get your money’s worth

For, despite my girth,

I am a medium!


via Daily Prompt: Premonition
“Premonition” typically refers to feelings of foreboding, but that’s not where this piece ended up going.

Swimming

annihilation2-1200x675
Annihilation (dir. Alex Garland, 2018)

Why did that Obstinate Organism,

that strange beast,

crawl onto dry land,

and take great gulps of the ancient air?

I defy it’s rebellion,

shed two of my four legs,

and return to the sea.

My clumsy steps disturb the sand

and kick up small clouds of shingle,

but I remain upright,

supported

by Poseidon’s hands.

I am able.

I run

and I jump

and I dance

and I stand

I stand

I stand still.

I am able.

I feel at home

in the diluted primordial soup,

at ease

in the arms of Great Tehom,

and in tune

with the Good and Gracious Ground of Being

and I am able

to stand

to stand

to stand still.