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Cue God's applause

  • 20 November 2018


Selected poems


Sco Modality

'I am holy, no, to discriminate?But by doing so,I self-incriminate. I doubt the loud denouncing will dissipatebefore the promised election falls… 'They are unclean and icky. I ruminate — why can’t they all just choose to be celibate?They stubbornly exist; by my lights, their fateapocalyptically palls.'Monologing thusly is not a stateI ever felt that I’d need to contemplate.But this alphabetical mob  — what a fate;they’ve gone and got me by the balls.'Mere truth will not serve. I will indicatethat abuse is already LAW, in legal copper plate;no credence to be heaped on top of proffered plateof socially maladjusted cause.'Now I’m in big boy power (although, of late,I feel besieged, laughed down, even second rate)you’ll hear, see, notice me strut with shining pateand Zion lion righteous roars. 'If I can’t pray away how they conjugateI’ll just have to work to eliminateany attempt to prevent the End Times hateof the humans my Godversion abhors.'My shiny conscience means I can abdicateany responsibility I have to moderatethe grievous harm to young ones who want to matewith bodies flagged in my culture wars… 'There. I feel so much better. It’s a date!Manifestly destined to be irate,I will ride roughshod, ram up against the gateof those diverse, inclusive — different — whores!'Defending Christendom’s hegemony straight,here I come! But be careful, ScoMo boy, don’t salivatein public view, lest I should seem prostrate —swept up in Pride and Homophobia’s maws.'Literal application of foreign words, to dateand judicious ignoring of wisdom lateallows me to preserve bigotry in spate.God looks like Me! Cue God’s applause.'



Up you get. Ablute, consume and go about your existential pestilential lot far from residential, penitential domesticity.Push past the occupational self negatorto earn and spurn and yearnfor other more rathered and mañana-ed, The file of unvaried prospects that rejectsspontaneity and other insanity,the joy and inanity of diverse verse.Push past the expectation of morose collaborationputting failed strategies into play,the expected disarray that meets KPIs.Though you despise the inertia and drossthat’s the curse, the weighted cost of adulting. Adulating. See past mortgaged livesto laughter. Hours lived, highs beyond deadened linesand resigned spines.Push past barricades of weaselled wordsand corporate corpus to seegardens untrammelled untamed.Animals unnamed will bring fear, sensation,wonder and elation.Push past the pull andreject the rule to better fulfilthe happy blunder that awaitsand the wonder that sensates.


Dharma by Numbers

at five i dreamed a terrifying pictureof crucifixion rendered on my selfvisioned impalement and ensuing stigmatacut deep into musings, mental