Daily Archives: May 16, 2018

Teleology, by Jonathan Taylor

I am not a silent poet

The refugees from an Apocalypse yet to happen
are flooding through the time-gate in bloodied rags,

marked by the Antichrist, trembling from earthquakes,
scorched by stars and planets crashing to earth,
chewed and spat out by dragons with various heads,
nibbled by locusts.

Tens of thousands have already perished en route
and most who reach their past are denied sanctuary:
after all, it’s their fault they weren’t among the Elect.
The future can hardly be blamed on us, can it?

A select few we save, those who bring with them
knowledge of soon-to-be-discovered technologies,
oh, and the plumbers.

The others – the godless, hairdressers, authors –
are shoved back,
whingeing they can’t win on either side of history.

Afterwards, if you press your ear against the door
and listen carefully, I have heard it said,
you can hear the trumpets, distantly, from the other side.

Jonathan Taylor is an…

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Dedication on the Occasion of the Next War and Its Memorial, by Red Slider

I am not a silent poet

This bell has but one tone rung over the heads of tourists on the village spread below in brown patois, an even sound to draw them on their somnambulant intent. Where they go, (they go bent under the weight of slow sand) they go oblivious of wheat underfoot they repeat the shuffle of old men ground at the mill, they stack their faces rolled thin and various. On occasion one will remark It has been a load, Sam. There is that to be said, steadfast and reliable until it was past time, when the overdo-ness of it finally sunk in and the one would lay down and the next, but we need not repeat the ring will hammer thin sheets of twilight into hope hard won, these stars cold and metallic: touch one, old ones die, and one by one each of the sons try on the shadows of their…

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Doomed Youth, by Stella Wulf

I am not a silent poet

Ahhh, poor black sheep,
hasn’t any hope,
no sir, none sir,
Mum & Dad can’t cope.

There’s plenty for the masters,
who all stand to gain,
none for the girls & boys
who live down benefits lane.

Ahhh, poor black sheep
heads full of wool,
free school dinners,
bellies never full.

It’s all for the leaders,
achievers on a mission,
nothing for the boys and girls
without a pot to piss in.

Ahhh, poor black sheep
this is what we’ll do,
make soldiers of all of you,
red, white, & blue.

Bah, poor black sheep
no wonder what you are
fill your boots and pockets
we’ll turn you into stars,

we’ll have you launching rockets
before your youth is gone,
etch you into granite –
see how they shone.


Last year a report by Northampton University concluded that cadet forces were an effective tool to support children on free…

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what of, by Michael Mc Aloran

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

…there no…no not of there…no not of here…no not of the…of the all of all stepped…till…gazes upon…fingers upon cold glass…gazes in or out am…breath upon cold glass…of… traceless…a trace of this…what this am…no echo no not of…forgotten…yet echo of…as was before…so it was before having unremembered…yet no not of there…given…taking from or else of…of the all not a…white sound of…of static abounding yes or no…in the reek of it…sudden as if to falter yet no…no not of here…yet what of this or of…the…here…what am…not a chance…either way as if to…no given yes or no… arrival…departure from…gazes in or out am…yet this…what is this of which…claimed by this…lessening or having gained…what this…this…this meat of wracked by the…of some clear distance…yet not a trace out there…or was there…last calling for…aching as if on or off the light extinguished…or never was…unremembered no…yes…it can be seen… fingers upon cold glass…breath upon cold glass…as if…

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