We are floating in cyberspace
We are floating in
cyber space
We are liberated
from
The weight of the
past
And its rigid tribal
claims
We are floating in
cyber space
We are dazzled by
advertising
As we surf over
chaos
We no longer need to
decipher
Ancient symbols and
signs
We are floating in
cyberspace
Where images chase
each other
Like reflections on
the water
Illusory worlds
glitter like diamonds
We are floating in
cyberspace
The endless
transmission of ideas
Across oceans and
borders
And back ought to
unite us
We are floating in
cyberspace
Free to dream
forever
Free to construct
new identities
As the omniscient
eyes of surveillance
Chart our progress
under the stars
From Eden To
Las Vegas
The world began in
Eden
And ended in Las
Vegas
From beautiful
garden
To dazzling morgue
The world began
Snug in the soft
feathers
Of holy innocence
Now it hides its
needle marks
The world began
With Adam the first
poet
Naming the animals
Now words are used
To sanctify
advertising
And other
disreputable arts
As the old order
evaporates
New symbols sneer
and snarl
Now gadgets and
pills
Have replaced the
profound peace
Of the paraclete
And love is only
ripe for a season
The world began
With waves of hope
Now there is only a
pinprick
Of light in the
darkness
As we caress our
smart phones
Like rosary beads
The world began in
Eden
And ended in Las
Vegas
Another world
Another world
Lies beyond the
horizon
It is just a matter
Of striving for it
Another world
Is not only possible
She is on her way
On a quiet day
I can hear her
breathing
I can smell her
sweet perfume
Spring
similies
It’s like a ghost
Entering my soul
When I recall
A nursery lullaby
It’s like a light
Railing against
The starless night
When I look into
your eyes
It’s like a birth
In the midst of
death
When I scratch
Black marks on white
paper
It will be like a
rainbow
After the hard rain
When I create
My masterpiece
For now I am
content
I’d love to write
a poem
Of such translucent
beauty
That it would melt
the stars
And make the moon
bleed
I’d love to
discover imagery
That would make the
gods weep
But for now I am
content
To carry on with my
craft
In the hope that a
slither of sun
Can be caught in my
net
In this shifting
world where
Ideal form is so
elusive
Dear
Old Blighty
They
claim a bit of pomp & ceremony
Brightens
up our little lives for a while
Some
people get their kicks when they’re waving flags
At
some gilded Jubilee or lavish Wedding
And
the media magnifies the general mood
Of
proper, patriotic sentiment
Whilst
real events that affect real lives
Remain
largely unreported it seems
I’m
tired of modern bread and circuses
I’m
truly bored of cardboard commentators
We
may think we’re so middle class and free now
But
deep down we’re still peasants in brand new guise
Mere
subjects of the Crown not citizens
Passive
observers of the general malaise
So
lie back and dream whilst knowing your place
As
for me I’ll be emigrating soon
Acedia
It’s
a kind of hell when innocence dies
To
dread the coming of the morning sun
When
once childhood dreams were wrapped around it
Prozac
always dulls the pain but kills the joy
Catholic
heaven seems so far removed
From
this modern age of twilight idols
And
love’s sweet promise turns bitter & ugly
In
the black mirror of the simulacrum
Where
flesh prevails utterly over spirit
Where
teeming nature becomes a brazen whore
Conformists
versus creators
Everyone’s
an A* student nowadays
But
how many possess true wisdom?
It
seems information has far exceeded
The
rare fruits of knowledge that make a culture
And
those crude school league tables don’t impress me
It’s
really just a mad race to the bottom
How
many are there who can think critically?
Or,
better still, engage in nuanced debate?
How
many can spin a telling turn of phrase?
Or
create a monumental work of art?
Sometimes
I despair of this maddening world
There
are too many ‘Yes’ men chasing carrots
Believing
that they can climb the golden ladder
But
there are so few creators blessed with Vision
