The Balloon

Untethered at last, a balloon bag of air and blood

Lightly assumes to the light bringing to the boil

A storm of fluid and gas within, it rages, sings

The melody of civil war, ‘til it will no more

the catastropic energy of a flightless egg

 

Skittish away up through the firmament, where bound when

Unbound, wind from all sides pressing the puffy cover

Of rubber skin, would the hands that let it go hold now

Sooner recoil from the thunder of touch singed by

the tropical scene of a bird reshelling itself

 

Past the forever-space flood barrier it is lost

Forever, but it was lost anyway, now forever,

The light, the thunder, the tropic that hazes within,

Forces of inflation without regret, without love

setting off vast clouds of balloons that will never hatch

Advertisement

Desire

Ever since I was of age enough to desire truly

I have not been able to bring myself through words and time

To the meeting place where the daydream of seduction sparks

Without rerouting unforewarned to a safer address

Or screaming soonest what a timely speech later reveal

 

The years have been many and the occasions almost countless

The approach to trying to approach always breaks the same

The intensity of the desire burns from hope to shame

A belief in the new, the will to the unknown, take root

Then yanked by the des-pair that cannot self and love together

 

I have asked myself why, rethought the cold story of cause

Also told myself off, let myself off, sworn on, sworn off

The role I play in the stale theatre of my head holds

The wreckage just ahead awaits with a sinister smile

Rehearsed to death: the chasm in my expedition with desire.

 

If the meaning of desire is a want that needs whole

Putting the end of the self at the start of something else

Where the meeting point would time a rebirth in a full person

The self half of something before, and after if unmet,

How does a thing grow twice its size if not enough already?

 

Maybe it is time to reflect on a new truth of feeling

The thirst of wanting, the task of willing, build on a castle

It is ruined, empty, out of time but still stands in spite

Repeating like an unfinished death, an unbanished ghost

Suspended in desire for life-or-death absolution.

 

Now that I am of age enough to expect myself truly

I have not been able to encounter through words and time

The solemn place where the nightmare of desire returns

Without looking at myself wanting more than what I see

Or trying to call the desired more than ruined “me”.

 

The meeting, to work, therefore, must be two halves kept so

No transcendental transactions of flesh, mind or spirit

No hot exorcisms or holy revivifications

But a mutual seduction set on shared revelations:

That halves cannot fulfil desire and Love is acceptance.

The return of the human

I see an empire falling when

its children put their bodies on the line

to hinder the outline of its advance

 

I see a looming collapse when

the empire’s new native, its own offspring

uses an untested power to squeeze the centre back

 

I see a dynasty drawing to a close when

it can no longer bear, despite itself, either in weight or idea

the quantity of its accidental spawn

 

But I see a World in motion as

those born within are ready to go without

tear down their inheritance in the name of a new heritage

 

Then, I see the myths of the empire coming undone as

it repurposes the language of conquest, terror and violence

to promulgate the destruction of its own

 

Which sees the true face of the empire as

something which was never “ours” to begin with

but the metastasis of a far more anti-human force

 

So, as I see the downfall of this empire

I see the return of the human

I see only humans in these children fighting for the dead and the unborn.

!

In the end, is not everything there is –

After moon-dreams fade under Sun again –

The repeat chance to cross the full distance

In new hope that, on this day, on that side

Someone might have an answer to “Hello!”

 

Now, is it not the purpose of a body –

After moonlight rest turns to morning soul –

To spring into the world and meet the world

In renewed belief that, sunshine or rain

The world is on the face of everyone?

 

Especially, is it not of the tongue –

After the light brings out too much to name –

To unquietly share the things it knows

In an endless back and forth with the world

That will bring to light worlds within the world?

 

Surely, is it not the work of wonder –

After the night of doubt dawns to the same –

Not to undermine the want of desire

In defiance of the truth of all knowing

But energise the collapse of distance?

 

!n the end, is not everything there is –

Before a Star explodes into a thousand –

The chance that the body ran, the tongue spoke

The sense of wonder somewhat satisfied

Even if we are yet to be answered?

“through our dead grip.”

People go into the People a lot like forests

Family roots hold like trees and branch off like trees

Above the ground, some touch and entangle, a roof

Halving the light to the entanglement below:

 

Which, a life-death mess of broken Falls, uncut Springs

Floating off the soil in a river of moisture

A thick seaweed grave of recycled everything,

Doubles the people between memory and movement.

 

People as the People take to the ground like forests

On roots first spreading then threading and hugging unison

Affixing there a half-lit dome of a half-left space,

Enters the person who went looking for themselves.

The new Fall

I – Introduction with footnotes of poetry

Difference is not unequal in itself

Difference is difference,

Only differentiated by system

Difference is offset.[1]

 

A system divides prior di-vision

Di-vision just is,

But division opens and lands un-just

To divide in fact.[2]

 

Di-vision is the difference of people

Who differentiate,

It re-turns only that which is different

In to its difference.[3]

 

A thing is what it is if its difference

Is not not-itself,

Things must be indifferent to each other[4]

Re-turn to themselves.[5]

 

Systems and division are the same thing

Choosing which difference,

Their choice is unjust, is theirs differently

Is difference re-signed.[6]

 

[1] (Water is offset.)

[2] (To sea-son in fact.)

[3] (By its own weather.)

[4] (indifferent to other suns)

[5] (Re-turned from their light.)

[6] (The Water re-signed.)

 

 

II – Difference is anti-itself

Di-vision as difference stuck in difference

Leaves Difference without,

Difference born beyond differentiation

Sets a fall withal.

 

Difference is existence between systems

Between differences,

Difference before, during and after all such

Drops all such in time.

 

Within the fall a sure Justice takes form

Which landing upsets,

Even the most Just still lands unjust too

Still too unwatered.

 

Still, some systems do fail worse than others

Yes, more unequal;

Because di-vision can divide at will,

Justice must be willed.

 

Justly, di-vision should be self-a-where

Know its indifference,

Being qua being makes all what it is

Being knows itself.

 

Self-a-where-ness would be knowing made whole

S/C-iting a limit

Where the un-known means a Just loss of sense

Sighting di-vision.

 

Systems can only sprout un-a-where

Find their place, themselves,

And more un-a-where they survive themselves

More so they do grow.

 

Inequality must not be the end

Just the beginning,

Justice the meaning of its erasure

A-where of a Fall.

 

So, difference to fight difference for water

Di-vision again,

But henceforth not for division in fact

Di-vision, instead.

 

That is, a-where-ness of falling-always,

Nothing stands alone,

See difference in standing unjustly done

Start falling again.

 

Systems are set up ignorant of themselves

They know everything

And then failing all the same, they ignore

The fall they divide.

 

Justice is the will to avoid the crime

Of all division,

Seeking an a-where-ness of di-vision

That fails as it falls.

 

 

III – How to fall

Difference not unequal in itself,

Only when landed

Does it fall to all the injustices

Of self-made systems.

 

How-so one system unjustly divides

Different systems will,

Justice to be limited to this guide

To make systems fall.

 

But not falling for death in full falling

Each fall still falls short

Next di-vision re-port all it divides:

Difference, Justice, Fall.

 

The fall is not the end but endlessness

Unpredictable,

Difference being start, duration, finish

And repetition:

 

Justice or the impossible memory

Of fallen difference,

What just is justly falls in the same way

Difference for-gets all.

 

To let systems fall or build them better

All ways for-getting

Justice the auspicious anti-system

To bring difference in:

 

From behaviour but never in fact,

Falls into system,

Systemically fails to meet Difference

But just still more Just.

How it all works  

I

The stylists who willingly succeed the old guard

anointed by the trinkets of its presumptions

Sans shame of farce colour their parade full rainbow

and even that “borrowed” from the weather’s own grift;

Hollowed agents of the same, they stand corridor

where every step echoes to a metronome State

And spare their voices to portend richer noises

if ever to account to the people’s self-march;

There, they mourn national death in grand funeral

as once builders became gravediggers and buried

The performance to condemn performing as such

because tears of regret come where the water ends.

 

II

To dis-re-guard this dead cause and find real grief

outside the stale pattern of total anointment

Against the language of bare sentiment only

but to recolour life before it turns absent

The gap between prayer and action must be undone:

 

“Reclaim movement from the echo of its reason!”

Recognition is materially dependent

If the significance of (a certain) life is deprived of all meaning

It must not be surprising when the meaning of that life insignificant

significantly lives minus to (other) life significantly meant

 

For the significance of life is to live meaningfully or not

And when meaningfully liveable, it will significantly add

but when significantly deprived, it will meaninglessly take away

 

For the meaning of meaning is like this,

If life can be lived to mean, it will always be additional to the significance of life itself

If it cannot,

for whatever reason,

the difference between significance and insignificance will be meant,

through and through, again and again,

in contradictions obvious instead.