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Posts Tagged ‘civilisation’

LAMENTATION
(IN THE SIGHTLESS FOG OF MORNING)

A phellĂȘaist fy eniad oddi wrth heddwch.

A bright white fog is on the morning air.
I will find me a chapel where prayers still hang
As fine as dew-drenched cobwebs on these tall spear thistles.
For the land is broken and only kind words will do.
And the demons are dispossessed and disconsolate,
Outdone and made redundant. The herds of angels
Moo and milk their holy audience for praise.
We are lost. Babylon has fallen, and risen, and fallen into dust.
Proud men of science are peddling their religion,
More vehement than priests. The holy words
Are locusts that eat the grain of our own children.
The Chosen have chosen themselves, pushed
To the front of the queue, happy to now be
In fields of blood and dust and phosphoric rubble.
The cities have fallen. Some in an instant,
Some in slow motion, like ballerinas, knowing
Neither poison nor antidote.
Wailing and lamentation would be some relief
But the clamour of self-congratulatory rhetoric
Cascades with the dignity of football rattles,
Drowning out the rivers that run thin and low
Of sense and foresight.
We are as lost and drained among the cold lidless stars,
Skin burning still with the heat of a midday sun
That shall never be extinguished,
Not in our heart, not in our soul.
A dark mind and sleep is all the dead wish for,
(And their names to be somehow scented
With flowers, and forgiven not forgotten.)
But beneath the earth the giants rise up
Simple and good in their lack of intellect,
And unknowing crush another civilisation,
Bury another bright dawn, the highways broken and empty.
Birdsong silent, then cautious, then glorious.
There will be an end to us,
And goodness shall surely follow.

Am hyn yr ydwyfyn wylo; y mae fy llygad, fy llygad yn rhedeg gan ddwfr

—-

Translation of the Welsh from Lamentations of Jeremiah:

“And thou hast removed my soul far off from peace”

“for these things I weep; mine eye, mine eye runneth down with water”

2017/07/img_2882.jpg

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SCOURED

How many, how few,
Shall squeeze through
The narrow needle’s eye
Between now and this uncertain future?

How many make it
Their own brief continuance,
Whether prize or damnation?
And what shall remain of us,
Our ways, words and love?

Seven times, (some say),
The world has broken,
The path between memory and forgetting
Scattered and almost lost.

The black barbed blackthorn,
Hard and dead of cold,
Braving buds, a blaze of onwards,
In thin sun and ice rain.

How may we, and from whom
Beg forgiveness, offer repair?
We, who will be nameless
With bodies lost and hollow.
Where shall they stand,
Those remnant few
Gazing motionless
At the silent orbiting decay
Of dying satillites?

The scouring voice
Of ravens flying east,
A wan moon amid
Unitelligible constellations.

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BITTERER

The insane
Present lucid arguments.

The sane babble
Dribbling incoherence.

Imprisoned and safe,
Citied in utilitied minds
Neat, swept clean.

Wolves and monsters
Hedged outside.

There are no doors allowed
This perfect construction,
And hardly a window,
So satisfied we have become:

These mirrors, these fashion items,
Neoned and bar-coded
Safe for consumption
( ever it was, ever it
Will be the name
Of a bitter disease).

Wake up, leave and
You will be naked
In front of all your lovers,
Starlit,
Glorious.

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FADING

It is a wonder we remain so long,
So pitted against the odds,
So tossed by ill-considered notions,
So ill-equiped,
So abandoned by squabbling gods
Who sense their own slow demise,
( the flowers of eternity caught
In first frost, petals bruised
And falling.

They will let go, even,
They will forget the juice
Of absolute power,
Leaving their cities
By the ocean’s side,
Leaving their phosphorescent palaces,
Their plastic groaning tables,
Their self-absorbed contemplations.

Before they smell the rot
And sink to feed the soil
They will wander into the mountains,
Mendicants with eyes on fire,
Find caves, light lamps,
Light incense,
Searching for that place
Where they took that wrong turn,
Missed the point,
Laughed at the wrong line,
Stepped across a void,
Instead of falling.

And they shall stay
Until they, and we too,
Fade to a line of footprints,
( they were moving quickly,
Hand in hand),
Shallow dips slowly
Filling with rain,
Reflecting the spindrift
Birth and death
Of spiral galaxies.

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