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Beatitudes for Aung San Suu Kyi

  • 24 July 2012


are everywhere    i'm tired of them    doing tests onperfectly normal people    always coming in peacebut never staying that way    their constantassociation with reptiles seems a tacticand they give little thought to our rulesalways making crop circles    keeping their distanceoften not coming at all   and then coming   so manylarge synthesisers   innocent phone callsspeaking English   poorly    they have no sense of timeor the importance of radio reception   look at thatsaucer on the floor   if you can    put some milk on itgive your green-eyed cat a drink    that'll fix them


Beatitudesfor Aung San Suu Kyi

Blessed are those who watchedwith stormcloud eyesthe ground open to swallow themwhile fork-tongue driversdrove whipcrack highwayson luxury serpents. Blessedare those run down & flattenedfang-holed & spat onfor good measure of the trade index.Blessed, those daughters set on high wiresto balance dollar signs, while bored crowdsjeered for another fall in interest rates. Blessedtoo those with empty chests, soles rippedfrom their shoes, fed to dogs. But most blessedare those who stole the hound scrapsnailed them to their feet& kept on marching.


Give the poem room to speak

Please, sit down. Let's talk. I knowyou might be put off by line breaksand other conventions, but let's lookpast these to see what really shines:

a car roof at midday, a streetlightin afternoon fog. Now, that wasn't so hard.We could also try what hurts. The hair tie

round your wrist the day he left,the raindrops in your daughter's hairon her first day at school. The momentyou first realised you are going to die.

That was more difficult.But we'll get along fine.


What the Dickinson?

I heard a fly Buzzand I was well and truly alive.Things weren't going Brilliantlythey sometimes felt like Death, really.But I was Alive — and that Flywas buzzing hard against the glass.

He wouldn't stop for me, or anyone.But that's Okay. Neither would Istop trying to make my wayin the World, my limbsscurrying from Place to Place.

And god? Well, yes, he was stillin his Heaven and, by all reports,as busy as a Bee. The Fly leftthe Room and I turned onearly Pink Floyd, See Emily Play.


New product range

This opportunity of a lifetimehas arrived again.

The latest thingtoo late for me.

This new taste sensationhas an old smell about it.

I can't afford to goso I'll