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Poetry Magnum Opus

Sideterms (rev)


dedalus
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Nothing is over, not a thing,

until time actually ceases.

And as you stand below, waiting in the street

looking up, open-mouthed,

wondering, speculating,

and nothing at all happens.

nothing for 20, 30, 40 seconds,


and when such silent moments exist

in this flickering world

there will be no further kisses, grunts, or gunshots.

And so

turn away, young Damian,

turn aside from life and love


for love is a heavy thing to carry

with its sagging burden of lust,

its well-fed writhing bodies,

its financial speculations.

Many unheard voices, crying out.

mouth the hope, I hope I hope

never to do/see this again


and since the world is round

those fat Chinese make it heavy

living, as they do on the edge,

sucking up noodleas, failing to emigrate,

and so they drag us down, the bastards,

causing climate change.


I write letters to world leaders

about this, about other serious things,

and they respond, ever so

brittle but quite polite, advising me

to fuck off and go away. In Newcastle

the girls are the real problem on weekends

but not as bad as in Dublin. There you need

strong arms & unfailing waves of charm

to herd the hags homeward.


Disco, disco, Saturday night!

Palumbino,

palumbina,

and so legless are

the lazy lanes of pleasure

that I measure

essence in grams, not ounces.


------------------------


(original)


Nothing is over, not a thing,

until time actually ceases.

And as you stand below, waiting down in the street

looking up, open-mouthed,

wondering, speculating,

nothing at all happens.

nothing for 20, 30, 40 seconds

and you should be looking down.


And if such silent moments should exist

in this flickering world

there will be no further kisses, grunts, or gunshots.

Dear God.

Turn away, young Damian,

your gentle form


for love is a heavy thing to carry

with its sagging burden of lust

and its well-fed writhing bodies,

its financial speculations.

Many unheard voices, crying out.

mouth the hope, I hope I hope

never to do/see this again


so good luck on that one, pal.

And since the world is round

and those fat Chinese make it heavy

living together on the edge, as they do,

sucking up noodleas, failing to emigrate,

they drag us down, the bastards,

and cause climate change.


I write letters to world leaders

about this, about other serious things,

and they write back to me ever so

politely, advising me, basically,

to fuck off and go away. In Newcastle

the girls are the real problem on weekends

but not as bad as in Dublin. There you need

strong arms & unfailing waves of charm

to herd the hags homeward.


Disco, disco, Saturday night!

Palumbino,

palumbina,

and so legless are

the lazy lanes of pleasure

that I measure

essence in grams, not ounces.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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“love is a heavy thing to carry

with its sagging burden of lust

and its well-fed writhing bodies,

its financial speculations.”

 

Over all a nicely mischievous piece of work: a reminder that most of us succumb to individual natural instincts which (usually) run away with common sense. I recall Andy Warhol... “Sex is the biggest nothing of all time.” And thought then he was either asexual or indifferent to gratuitous casual sex. Or could it be that consummation of a loving relationship means something that is far removed from puke filled city-centre streets and inebriated clubbers (wherever they be), as God (if he exists) is from the Devil (if he also exists:-). Enjoyed the read. G.

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Another brilliant piece, almost laconic in its reflective voice yet precise, philosophical and indeed humorous. Enjoyed immensely;-)

 

 

Juris

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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love is a heavy thing to carry

with its sagging burden of lust

and its well-fed writhing bodies,

its financial speculations.

 

Spoiled my whole evening.

 

"Mischievous." Binyamin is right. ;)

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One can either eat less and writhe more, or else (more predictably) do the opposite! My next poem will be relentlessly cheerful and offer hope to all. Well, perhaps not.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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