IN SILICON

the ether
is brimful

to the firmament

with
our
paused conversations

burnt into silicon relief

for 

the 

river god to cool

THE FIRDAY NIGHT BOOKSHOP OF THE MIND

in the friday night

bookshop of the mind

the oversoul
does a reading
just for me

when i am stretched out

debased on the sofas throw

~

& these poems
out the ether

well i can let them go

like throwing back a fish

my hands must remember

they dont need to always

stain the paper blue

REPETITION WILL HAPPEN

out there
its like
the tv 
is jammed between stations

my imagination
sees forms
in the dancing braille
and
i
file my soft reports 
into the ether

wary of repetition
cos it 
might
does
can
will
should
happen

but i dont stop
stop ?
my machine is stuck on go
despite
mechanics
warnings

from wikipedia

MORNING MOURNING

POEM POP

THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC

the music / the chords 
the vocal refrain 
buried in the mix

all chill my spine like malaria

music -
marches over times dead strands
and
paints a thing 
where
no thing was before

emptying itself out
into
hungry
ether

 from themicragirls.myspace.com

 

FILING REPORTS

1. REVOLUTION

revolution -
buzz-word from history lessons
not
for
21C dishrag England grey -
urban sprawl
is
the 
servants wing / new forts built by News
gullible minds
proud ignorance
and
locked-up or discarded despair
wears
SuperDry and bling
as
grateful sop


2. OFF-GRID

torn blue shines
on hatchback bonnets
ticking
with commute heat / should be
off-grid
solar popping - used chip oil stink 
  and
  cottage industry 
  flux capacitors -
all
amenities free and easy
under
sci fi sun / a neo-admin paying
for
Deep Thought


3. REPORTS

i am left cold / a soft-rind bacon sarnie
wet
with
washing-up dish suds -

all
part
of
The Job - file reports / disguised
  into
  the
  silicone ether

eating at salmonella vans on rail kerbs
i search 
  for 
  a 
  New Flower
by
National Trust abandoned
buttress 
walls

 from bbc.co.uk

STAR WARS

somethings changed in the old ether

a
demarcation
agreement
is
signed
in
the star dust
with the heart blood of old wounds
and
the
weird and fierce battle
on
the 
terminator lines
is
a
cold
war
now
as reality skydives in the supermarket
and
solidifies in black winter streets
with
silent action
and
scribbled activity