the future is over there

He fears aliens want to abduct him,
probe him then dump him in a field,
bound, gagged and bleeding.

Moustached dictators invade his every thought
military green uniforms
carved effigies of glorious wars …
…a heroes death

his skin itches insects are laying eggs
under skin

Secret languages,
semaphore and Morse code can be heard through the paper thin walls of silverfish dry rot damp
where you can hear the neighbours shuffling around ‘
muffled screams in bungalows in coastal towns
that hide family secrets.

Caravan parks closed down for the winter
as the park manger rifles through the owners drawers when their absent,
touching things,
smelling things.

It’s the isolation and loneliness that compels him.

All work and now play makes Jack a dull boy


He says he’s off to the walk the dog
but the dog has been dead for weeks,
flies buzz around him
parasites take small bites at him.

He is cold and he walks around empty estates
shopping trolleys seem beautiful in the winter dusk
he’s stepping on cracks
smashing bottles
muttering obscenities to pigeons.

The jingle jangle melody of an ice cream truck breaks his trance
stops him in his tracks
summer day childhood memories creep back.
two scoops and a flake..
two scoops and a flake..
hundreds and thousands…
gobstoppers and once her lips tasted of chewing gum,
,now nicotine

The future is China.

He dreamt it.



  1. multiplemichael

    the future is over there on Calvary
    how many versions of the Crucifixion can you list ?
    suffers being tortured
    trying to count the faces of God
    trying to write down a combination of letters that spell God’s true name
    Emily trying to measure her grief
    trying to compare it with the grief of her readers
    her grief is never more than Yoko’s grief
    Yoko not only lost the Lord but also the King
    Yoko said that the years following His death
    were like heavy stones
    being placed on her
    trying to press
    her to Him
    trying to imprison her into the dirt
    dirt should sleep in dirt
    no need for a coffin
    or judgment
    “just hold up a photograph of the Beatles”


  2. multiplemichael

    giving a feeling of actuality
    your life is a documentary-like voice-over
    daily eruptions and you try your best
    I see your psychological shoes
    almost bare feet to go to work
    misguided funds put you at risk
    the broken glass of society
    sharp dialogue on the concrete
    and all the sticky inadequacy
    on public transport
    your basic needs ring hollow
    theatrical villainy
    frauds and hypocrites
    suave bureaucratic buggers
    odd details but no way out
    the truth of ordinary lives


  3. multiplemichael

    the impulsive mind jumps over fences—light or dark or Dante-like
    and there you were King Daddy—alive and not buried with Christ
    curtains were everywhere even covering blank walls
    red Toulouse silk—the very best Toulouse silk
    not that cheap crap they use in the White House
    and tapestries—OMG, the ones you like, Turkestan tapestries
    inset with jewels, real giant gems that reflected rainbows
    not only colors were reflected but also indwelling secret selves
    I could see your inner self—the inner man


  4. multiplemichael

    the driving force wasn’t that of the erotic or romantic passion
    you had essential confusions in each pocket
    you were always writing poems about the visible parts
    but you were thinking about the invisible ones
    words constructed and imposed on top of each other
    ceilings became floors—floors became ceilings
    broad-hipped people lived on top of one another
    even as a small child you made sense of the strange
    dead people buried standing up—post-hole tradition
    people always want to be horizontal for the long sleep
    protected by society and all its established ethics


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