Minor Celebrity

1

The triple magic of a story
Draws me into its purpose,
Oscillating between the poles
Till climax and release-
With these powers
I ebb and flow,
Constricting
And expanding,
To bring forth
From this chaos of life
By mighty efforts
The essence I was born for.

2

Escape, escape the state,
That administers you out of existence,
Herds and milks you, for its own profit,
Wastes half your money and steals the rest,
Knowing you to be stupid, placid and weak.

3

I wonder,
Will I end up in heaven,
Playing table tennis with Mozart and Cary Grant?
The days down here are bleak, absurd.
I spend too much time
In the company of shitheads and cunts,
All hiding themselves,
Blathering, pretending,
Barely human, really,
Barely real.
And I am no better than them, no better.
No better.

4

Cross-stitching of birdsong in the tree-tips,
Whistle-quake and sistrum-throb,
Quivering seismograph lines...
Walking the meadow,
I revolve the world around me

5

Before they plant me in the ground,
I should live, I should live a little.
Before they cover me up and forget me,
I should take a chance or two.

6

From that first triumph of eukaryotic cells,
Ingesting other species of cells,
Assimilating their powers,
And turning into solar engines,
Wheeling with fiery glee,
We are come into our skins
To lose and find our minds...

7

My land is the sombre unnatural north,
Of the perverse laugh and porcupine spire,
All Gothic grotesques and schisms,
To which, with a grim snicker,
I’ll raise a pint of dark beer.
The south, well, of course, I crave it,
Feigning enjoyment with gauche pretence,
But, patently, I don’t belong in the light,
Only shadows show me at my best.

8

The unseen and the unheard,
Are coming for you,
The evil in politics
Marches against you,
All the poisoners and thieves
Of the creeping state...
The hidden hand
And the all-seeing eye
Entrap you everywhere,
Every hour of the day...
Long before you see
The beast in the dark,
You will feel its breath,
Sense its movements...
Murderous money
Plots ingenious farragoes
And pleads the law
In hell’s name.

9

I burrow deep
Into routine,
Inventing freedom
In the core of the quotidian.

At some point
A thought breaks off
From itself,
Strays into the void,
And dangerously blossoms,
Out there,
Out on a limb.

Feet on the ground:
Albatross flights of the mind.