PART2.
MY BLACK ANGEL
The shadow of my wheelchair is like
A raven an Edgar Allen Poe image
Guarding my hell, my black angel.
I woke and the raven was gone
It turned back into a wheelchair,
Nature is only a footstep away
If only I could walk.
The light floods into my room
And creates a shadow of rain rippling.
They say an English-mans home is his
Castle and this hellhole is mine.
Its 2009 and I live in a middle age, limbo
All I can do is cry, I cant even commit suicide.
I’ve got to fit into an able-bodied timetable,
I piss in a bottle each day and wheel-
Chair a wheelchair: I’m as low as a spider
Or a mouse. Wood louse and beetles highway
My floor, shell-shocked noble beasts.
The blue is crying from my eyes into
The reservoir of loss.
I’ve been waiting a lifetime for happiness
And four years for contentment.
I know these images come up again and again
But there’s nothing else in my life only
Torment and pain. This is only half a poem
From half a man
THE BLACK HOLE POEM
For Stephen Hawkins
1.
This is the theory of everything.
life begins as a poem.
‘The source, eternity darkness
within darkness’, the Tao Te Ching.
a letter of light comes from negativity
and the universal poem is formed
radiating light from dark
and love from hate.
2.
I woke from the darkness of a bad dream.
Why was I witnessing such darkness?
It was like a cancer or a plague.
I was afraid to go back to sleep
I lay there listening to the rain thinking
maybe this went further back?
to Dostoyevsky or Van goghs time
Maybe time is timeless?
like world war one or Adolf Hitler’s name.
Maybe this is as Nietzche said
‘i’ll turn this muck to gold’.
This is the shadow of my event horizon.
A KILL HOUSE
Death: blood guts and brain
All pulped into a grey/white
And cured into a pudding.
A skip of swimming maggots
Above skinned coats of hide.
Pig’s shot and the squeal
Cut and torn from their throats.
Dipped in a bath of scolding
Water and the layer above
Blubber shaved, the parts
Hung in the window like
Decorations on hooks.
Memory hangs like a crucifix
A blood dried landscape
apron-ed on a sawdust floor.
No comments:
Post a Comment