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Clay feet

  • 16 April 2018


Selected poems



yoko ono was a no no for the beatles they derided her decided she stole john lennon was a denim clad defector he departed to be martyred to the song bono sang and justice rang for ragers dying daylight echoes of the late great king u2 jumped the shark & bit the apple & consumers rose up against marketing elvis was a hunka burnin' glory a singer & fbi wannabee appetites berserked in manner gory he left the building mid epiphany mohandas was a lawyer & a saviour who took his beatin's & refused to eat mahatma won the union jack was flaggin' then one of his own dropped gandhi at his feet norma jean gave all her lovers splendour a wide eyed ingénue who'd smile not feud tragedy and misery colluded & marilyn was left deadcold & nude jesus was a rabbi & a dreamer who talked & stirred & gave up carpentry mary cried as spearpoint slid past femur & godson egressed into mystery icons inspire & disappoint the faithful spinners weave legerdemain pre styx the chasm between real and ideal may fill but tender clayfeet remains idée fixe


Latin lessens loss


The abandoned

A relic was a body part (a holy bone, perhaps) that, left behind, became a drawcard; clergy served as paps. A relict was a widow. Abandoned; left behind. No man, no hope, succour was rare; the church was where they'd find a shelter and a meal or meals, clothing and a task; how's society care for the meek? Charity reveals. A derelict's a vessel left deserted, solitary. An abandoned person sore, a duty spurned. A life left without caring. Relinquere — leave behind; abandon hope and enter our OECD paradise where wealth and values splinter. Corporeal woes, partners turned foes, homeless ones abandoned. Spurned duties and beliefs result; such violence is not random.

Top of Form

Domine's domain

Monty taught us betterer: Romani ite domum ! Homeward bound is pleasurer, bask in your own domicilium. Terra Australis Oi Oi Oi Terra Australis Incognita. La Australia del Espíritu Santo (the Espanol's a sad joy). Who are we? Who'll dwell with us? Terra Australis Nondum Cognita. Roofs o'er heads, it seems small beer ... Cicero's cingulus australis.