Sunday, December 7, 2008

The Last Word -13/11/2008


I banner for cowards,
Enlist with the liars,
The black humoured,
With theives for the calvary,
There are wars,
Fought through ear drums,
Decided in ball points,
There are enemies,
At the short end of the pen I hold,
There are hostilities,
Delcared in these keystrokes.

There are targets,
Our objective,
To raze a subjective,
To the ground,
The Mongols reach Baghdad,
These are the words,
Wanting to be destroyed by other words,
A warzone marked on a map,
Campaign unfolding across prose pages,
With my own hand-writing,
For whatever this is that,
And which is what,
Struggles against it's shape,
It strategy,
Refuses attempts at being described.

Evading the pitch battles,
In my ink-by-the-barrel,
Anger the likes of Ahab's worst rages,
Against the whale,
A need for furrowed brows,
For set jaws and fast walks,
To define myself -what is not,
To define myself defiant,
To re-define the self,
Of the group,
Of itself.
Of my shape,
The space I inhabit.
And all its possibilities in deadlock.

The laughter,
Comes sharp daggered smiles,
And blunt speach,
I throw words at this like,
Angry student pelt police riot shields,
I fuel words catching on fire with words,
I'm all smoke-and-mirrors now,

The self-conscious threatens,
The interests of a truer self.
Throwing myself into the work and throwing that all,
Over the edge,
Burn the bridges back,
Bets are off,
Burnt hedges and now fire-the-breaks,
Catapult phrases after another,
Each going over my walls,
Projections trying to hit something,
Smash something,
Hurt something,
Wreck something,
Get at something inside,
That needs destroying.

Some storm,
Some waves and the rumble,
Surrender and disarmnements,
That aren't coming,
With condition or negotiation.

Destroy myself -in so many, many words,
Simply because no other could,
Knowing not what you try preserving,
As empty stomachs were drained to fuel,
This war machine.

The stomach for it,
The very reason I'm compelled to attack it,
Make a new self,
Build to kill an old one,
Tear that bloody thing down too,
Keep tearing,
Till I can't tell you to stop,
The russian doll in razors edges,

Truth under seige,
Trojan poets
Carthage comprehension,
A Leningrad of lies,
All of them, in me, comprised,
Laying down trenches around,
My inner-court walls.

Hammer away,
Targets for the dents in that thing,
The seams,
The seemings,
Your weapons are my words,
Yielded to malice,
The violence vividly describing,
A soul bought in the binges,
Verbose bargaining,
Going once... and sold.

Pay for the war efforts.
Fight to the lasting.
Me against me.
No alliances sought with you.
Bordering on disputes,
Outside territory stays nuetral.

While inside, an invasion force launches
No terms for surrender offered,
None accepted,
It's myself against me.

Fighting, to see who gets the last word.


-Peace ( our time)

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