“I will make this,” thought God, “I will make that.
(One of the thats can name the thises then.)”
And all He had to do was say each thing
And it was done, and good, and all was right.
And then came man, and this one thing God named,
And then this Adam named this that, that this,
And then God gave him woman, Eve, by which
To breed and lead to us—beasts did the same.
There was a flood, of chemicals and such,
Which bounced around aboard a barren rock
Holding all beings’ potential, earth’s whole stock,
Till tongues of lightning (maybe) made it twitch.
All life came from this flood, and this is good—
We all are equal, and there is no god.
There are no gods or goddesses abroad,
And nobody is perfect, heaven knows
(And it knows nothing, for it just arose
From our old wish to turn the bad to good).
And you’re not perfect, love, how could you be,
Being a mix of your parents (both mad),
Your crazy country, and whatever odd
Odds and ends you brought yourself to being?
Perfection’s for our Christs and Christesses,
Those dream immortals after whom we lust
Down in this rubbish bin wherein the dust
Of our desires is dumped—God bless! What’s this?!
Dear Goddess, as your eyes gaze into mine
The water in my veins turns into wine!
Fuck sake! Not more bloody death!—
It clears the table, cuts the grass,
Cleans the slate and seals the pass,
Shears the shepherd and his lass,
And still it is not out of breath,
But makes time for my sorry ass!
I have, somewhat reluctantly, given Just Poems a makeover. Although poetry itself is enough (as my About page assures us), appearances can add to its appeal, and I think this new Theme allows for enhanced readability. Let me know what you think…
Anyway, back to business. Here’s a haiku, let’s call it ‘Fashion’:
It is important
To look smart so I straighten
Up my straitjacket
Thanks for visiting,
As life lengthens:
Yes the young
But with age
To rummage and mine,
To match a line.
To learn your craft
Simple as sunshine
And as subtle
Come on, seriously. Sing.
Ok, just hum something…
Nameless, that is what I must be.
But even “I” is a name, and even “be”.
Anything which only is,
I must be as anything which only is.
first thought: “which is like this”
second thought: “which is in this way”
third thought: “which only is”,
might be called the final thought
because it was the chosen one,
but that too is a name.
A poem to be called “Final”
Slip your name,
the heavy breath of others on your birth,
the heaviness of your own thoughts, of “your” and “own”.
There will always be thoughts,
But let them rise like bubbles from the deep
And free themselves in empty air, leaving the surface calm,
the water more fully water.