Cowering I await
The monsters are about to emanate
From the landing
The stairwells
Which I so often dreamt
That falling dream
-they are about to emanate
and I hastily prepare
“you've had ages!”
but as always I’m late
so I remove staples from the magazine
and replace them with non-uniform,
full metal jackets.
I hope they explode on time.
I hope the rifled barrel,
fires in a straight line.
let the monsters come.
For feel sure, they will.
It is inevitable.
They are coming.
Burrowing.
Beneath the ground now,
the worms.

As the first enters my field of view,
my mini gun becomes a peashooter
and were back to Freudian territory.
I’m sure many will understand,
the Hitchcock final frame sequence,
Of a train in a tunnel.

I remove the head of one of them
by biting.
he however, is a plastic soldier
and the stretch nylon tendons leave stands,
from the neck up
so his semi-severance lies to one side,
still an attache.
Dead though.
Yet another lost case.
As for the other -clean off
I bit him.
the rest follow
As though zombies,
all in the same club.
I keep killing
and the guilty feelings rise,
most unwelcome.
The place where comfort occasionally resides,
Is disturbed like the muddied, incoming
Tide, disturbing grains of sand
and silt.
Disturbed by a muddied mess of killing.
My purple heart.

and so it begins.....

Machine guns chewing up the drive.
Bullets finding places to finally hide.
Snubbed.
The lead slugs snubbed.
Distorted, flattened by exit wounds,
finally resting in plaster and brick.
The glass fragments
And wilted roots
Of a spilled vase and flaking lick of colour
the dereliction of a loving home
its
burst waters, pipe blue, a vein.
Cracked tiles from the gain of gravity, dew
some bodies home.
and the heated muzzle glows
conductivity flew oblivious
never knows the operator
He just keeps firing blank into canvas
part of the machine
blind.
It’s backward extension
The foliage uncover rank, rind
The napalm invention
Called in the unkind
gasoline airstrike
tankbuster
mushroom cloud of fire cluster
together
mans wilderness
Of men disconnected
Of men muzzled by protected feelings
of mice-scatter in hope
That they may make it home
airlifted by the piper
and the pippestrelle sonar
airframe fragile
the competent confidents
and comas
The feelings of head tapping
And the agile jump way out 'zonars'
tap your magazine on your tin hat
It’s good luck,
and that,
Is the beginning again, short rest
blessed with
the rotating and spinning
Straight lines, zig zag, zap
incoming, impact, picked out of the sky
larking about hides fear, laughing loud
Until ricochet makes a devils day
Of it, and a flight cable is snipped
And you auto rotate.....
....down.....
...into a spiral dream, an eternity in minutes,
a short drop,
a mean feat, booted fop
lands upright and rolls
camouflage takes toll
find nothing,
where comrade calls,
the ringing in the ear,
blots out home, a homing sound.
Finally found him.
Link arms,
and roll on.
You heros of the wreckage.
You! with no time to salvage,
any messages from within.
Roll on soldier.
To the burning remains of the napalms.
Grin, as you’re sure he does,
Grin.
Grimace, the village with the majority dying,
from team handiwork.
Your tank crushing bezerk commanders,
obsessed with orders,
once again,
chew up the drive.
Chew.Amphetamine. Chew.
behave and behead
Like a thousand fountains of victory.
The dust piles pile up in columns,
as the shrapnel skips in predictable fields of view.
Chew.
Yet you are just peripheral people,
expendable but heroes automatically.
You are the wife’s of acrobats.
You are the dingbats and misunderstood.
You are the perfectly believable killers.
You are the soldiers, the communards,
and you roll on, needed and needled
Obsessed with orders
from the feebled oap
and the staying alive
beehives
and the bunkers
a mantrap
Can bite metal
clunkers armour
a hand grenade be pin pulled,
Un intentionally.
Watch out for your legs,
clutch your spilling insides,
should one detonate,
should you resonate, stuck on a particular feeling,
keep it all on the inside.
The show must go on.
So you march,
half dead
While the whole place burns
While flames are adorned with lacy fingers,
Of flicker spears of death.
Like nettles one brushing wave
The whole place in flames
The senses overwhelmed by the deranged
Arrangers of this hell.
While you kill an indiscriminate
a Woman and child in crossfire
The religious books pile high and burn
Wooden chairs.
You split hairs from anything
The razors edge
The slivered cut of a privet hedge
That does not belong in the jungle hallucinate
To the green garden gate of blighty
You are hit in the back
You- a crystal cut car jack
loosing hydraulic oil.
Hallucinate.
Way too late rising.
All going white.
All going white,high mother, hello
All alright, lovely son
All alright, halo.
All teeth white gritted smile
It’s over rising mother its over
empire and bile
body bag black smother
please mother a wing, a while
roses
It’s over hamburger hill
It’s over counterpoint pincer move
Its over disjointed sam approved
wanted you

won you

Over



June 27th 2008