In room airless,
What are the limits
Of symbols and shapes?
What are they ?
And what does it take
To be a symbol
And to be a shape ?
To be floating on nil horizon
In monochrome past
And colour present ?
In room airless,
What does the unsaid say at that moment ?
I think love should be subtle
Just like this bottle
that is smashed over
your head all soft and memorable;
a driving passion
to divide your legs
like capitalism.
That takes to the limit
something sensitive,
even offensive,
at a party of rich gorillas
discussing violence in terms amorous
as the little people pass below
both faraway and stupid.
With bells ringing
and people meddling;
and children around a bonfire
singing:
ring-a-ring-a-dollar
a pocket full of squalor.
Of all the aphrodisias of the all worlds
to make this final vision
not in amorosa but in the incincerator.
That pup is now a green eyed beast:
upon my mouth,
sits some sunlit fantasy
upon some sunlit breast;
now we find a shower of heat
through the soles of our feet;
it burns a hole in our head
and when our brains shall be burnt,
we shall be ate;
and our ashes lie around a blackened stump
to survey mysterious skies, deadened:
the sparkle that went out with that fire
we glimpse in far away star
called Eden.
Once we descended with pride,
now we are in free fall like a dying meteor.
“Dollarisma, Serenissima”
is the princely constellation
of which we are victim,
as every particle of what is left
makes a journey into nursery rhyme.
And those who believe in eternal life
have only the glare of publicity
with which to light their path;
and the friendship of a cancerous dog
with which to howl into the night.
There’s my father skiing with his brother,
skiing with another,
neither his wife nor his mother
are around
and as the brother is bachelor confirmed
this is awkward
as the boy looks like a girl
which troubles me as daughter.
I shall tell Mummy about this beauty:
and the chalet shall be a little cool later.
Mein dame and mien herr,
Bavarian girls
race themselves
to the point of powerful men
in powerful cars amen.
At five hundred miles per hour,
feel their thrust:
to remember those corners
and curls
of the Munich girls.
In the minds of business,
there is not much light between them
and plenty of thrills
on the Strasse of curves and spills.
What’s fair for the dame,
is fair for the herr.
So let them both run:
one to catch the other,
although I could not tell
which was dog and which was hare;
after all,
this is Bavaria.
Mein dame and mien herr,
Bavarian girls
race themselves
to the point of powerful men
in powerful cars amen.
At five hundred miles per hour,
feel their thrust:
to remember those corners
and curls
of the Munich girls.
In the minds of business,
there is not much light between them
and plenty of thrills
on the Strasse of curves and spills.
What’s fair for the dame,
is fair for the herr.
So let them both run:
one to catch the other,
although I could not tell
which was dog and which was hare;
after all,
this is Bavaria.