Blips On A Horizon
Sea Salt
Mango Juice
Fizzy Water
Covent Garden Soups
Lemon Chicken
Broccoli & Cheese
Leek & Potato
Passing the magnetic bar code
Blip-pip blip-pip blip-pip car load
“Poetry should speak truth to power”
says the laureate who should know the truth
that art can be subversive yet remain aloof
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever”
Lying on the cold marble slabs of the floor of the Sistine Chapel -
wrapped up in my body bag to cover my young subversive thighs
from God and Man embracing each other in the blue heavenly skies -
staring up at all the saints and sinners in their immaculate frescos.
Shed look good in a black plastic bag mum used to say jealously
about slim sylph-like pretty women in designer clothes they’d bought -
but to me with my imperfect shape she would say don’t get caught -
then trapped by wet timbers she fell making a hole in the bottom of the
boat.
A blue bolt voice called watch out for mysoginists speaking in mismatched
tones -
though when you open your eyes you will see new things previously
hidden from view
time will be suspended for a while as the air will become animated and
foggy with dew-
just a blip on understanding how Innocent civilians become glips on
computer screens.
Then with silent beating wings all in black morpheus descends and wraps
me in his feathers -
a sandy trail leads the shaman to the sacred rock in old peru high in
mountains drinking tea -
a procession arising before me of all my ancestors some I knew others I
cannot see -
calling their names to me till one appears whose face contorts in pain and
hurt together
A man speaks its alright I’m her guide here - she is not at peace so dares
not look on you
but she is so tragically sad at her demise missing you - and then I know it
is her picture
-the shaman goes silent his face intense turned from the rockface looking
like a teacher
while the warm and beating wings close around me once more and away
we go.
Now there I stay below the hills in the safe happy indian village with
brightly coloured
incas talking to me and my god chewing prickly leaves in lime drinking
grainy cheecha.
he has a thousand brothers and sisters so I am never alone again but look
to the future
and on the rock a new Image appears of a veiled woman who shows me
her mirror.
Still at times she is lying in bed connected to drips - bleep-bleep-bleep-
bleeps
her warm body with eyes closed refusing to see me or even hold my hand -
now look what shes gone and done drinking too much and getting
canned -
blip-blip-blip-blip-blip-blip - nurses rush over but its all too late as silence
weeps
Prozac
Valium
Thiorazadine
Temezapan
Progesterone
Codeine phosphate
prescriptions boot up on VDU’s
glaring at patients familiar queues.
blip blip blip blip - all about
being - flipped flipped - out.
Page(s) 122-123
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