LIGHT IN THE GREEN OCEAN
TOTTENHAM CHANCES
Under a glowering sky unbelievable light plays
Against the west wind.
The blank street is unexpressive.
Few people are walking.
Buses, vans, cars
Whizz up and down the High Street.
There’s nothing unremarkable as the vital light
Of the adiaphane catches fire against
Invisible sunset. Although nothing is happening
The everything that constitutes the lives
Of ordinary hearts and souls is blazing against
Muted series whites, greys, greens, blues.
LIGHT IN THE GREEN OCEAN
Is playing like myriad dolphins on the dappled surface
That are replaying to the bizarre sophistry
Of shoals of words that are pouring out
On the waters from the abyss of language.
Etymologies, phonemes splayed like duck’s feet
All the rest of the words are dumb, shark-like
Terribly carnivorous dictions of mutatingly unstable
Coral reefs implying something dark, lurking in
The great gorge deep untold shadowy depths.
WARS LIKE NUMBERS
Wars duplicate come in twos like demonic twins.
Numbers comfort the multitude wars likely create
Plastic epic plays, wars tuned up like violins.
Infantry are like pigs on chairs, helicopters resemble
Great flies. Grey rusting hulls of tanks.
One of the best ever wanks when the enemies head
Fragments like a crushed strawberry warmed in the sun.
It’s all about money, no one can explain why
The wars repeat in cycles of 17 years?
Why the numbers are growing in algebraic conundrums
But mostly numbers of dead who can fall
Like clouds of dust or clouds of insects
Covering your new jeans in ugly vomit.
Subtraction is a separate entity, only the work
Of genius, unfolding in plethora abacus.
The stiff upper lips shatter like porcelain.
The unkempt stare, sang froid of Navy SEALS
The gigantic gaze of limbless Buddha statuettes.
TRANSYLVANIAN GENT
There’s an ad in my local newsagents.
Transylvanian gent, 40 seeks
Partner for intimate relationship
Long lasting naturally, longer
Much longer even than eternity....
CRICKET
Cricket is the war that poets abrogate in favour of war.
It’s a longed for eternity replacing actual gods with
Timelessness. Manipulate or cheat the time, refuse
To leave the crease, become a chucker. Heave the ball
like a grenade right into the sun’s dusky face.
Paul Murphy
Under a glowering sky unbelievable light plays
Against the west wind.
The blank street is unexpressive.
Few people are walking.
Buses, vans, cars
Whizz up and down the High Street.
There’s nothing unremarkable as the vital light
Of the adiaphane catches fire against
Invisible sunset. Although nothing is happening
The everything that constitutes the lives
Of ordinary hearts and souls is blazing against
Muted series whites, greys, greens, blues.
LIGHT IN THE GREEN OCEAN
Is playing like myriad dolphins on the dappled surface
That are replaying to the bizarre sophistry
Of shoals of words that are pouring out
On the waters from the abyss of language.
Etymologies, phonemes splayed like duck’s feet
All the rest of the words are dumb, shark-like
Terribly carnivorous dictions of mutatingly unstable
Coral reefs implying something dark, lurking in
The great gorge deep untold shadowy depths.
WARS LIKE NUMBERS
Wars duplicate come in twos like demonic twins.
Numbers comfort the multitude wars likely create
Plastic epic plays, wars tuned up like violins.
Infantry are like pigs on chairs, helicopters resemble
Great flies. Grey rusting hulls of tanks.
One of the best ever wanks when the enemies head
Fragments like a crushed strawberry warmed in the sun.
It’s all about money, no one can explain why
The wars repeat in cycles of 17 years?
Why the numbers are growing in algebraic conundrums
But mostly numbers of dead who can fall
Like clouds of dust or clouds of insects
Covering your new jeans in ugly vomit.
Subtraction is a separate entity, only the work
Of genius, unfolding in plethora abacus.
The stiff upper lips shatter like porcelain.
The unkempt stare, sang froid of Navy SEALS
The gigantic gaze of limbless Buddha statuettes.
TRANSYLVANIAN GENT
There’s an ad in my local newsagents.
Transylvanian gent, 40 seeks
Partner for intimate relationship
Long lasting naturally, longer
Much longer even than eternity....
CRICKET
Cricket is the war that poets abrogate in favour of war.
It’s a longed for eternity replacing actual gods with
Timelessness. Manipulate or cheat the time, refuse
To leave the crease, become a chucker. Heave the ball
like a grenade right into the sun’s dusky face.
Paul Murphy
posted by Paul Murphy at
June 27, 2011
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