One Problem With
Proving Something
She often told him,
‘All men are bastards,’
but he sensed her
vulnerability,
although oblivious to his own,
and sought connection with her
as a source of closeness,
convinced that he could
prove her wrong
and show her that
at least one man
could be
kind and fair and respectful.
The problem, of course,
was that she didn’t want him
to prove her wrong:
She wanted him
to prove her right.
It was really all over
before it began.
Business
As Usual, As Usual
Celebrity, duty free, Let It Be,
GDP
Breakthrough military
technology
Mascots, gunshots, cum shots, have-nots
Cool squats, ink blots, money-saving robots
Bacon rashers, sweaty flashers, bible bashers
International money stashers
Halfway minds on armed patrol
Our world is crap on cruise control
Teflon, hardons, zircon, atmospheric carbon,
Salaried felons bullying for Chevron
Ice melt, Bible belt, farmed pelt, looking svelte
Useless crap on a marketing conveyor belt
Bedpans, warring clans, Comic Sans, V8 sedans
Luxury beachfront retirement plans
Water-skiing the North Pole
Our world is crap on cruise control.
Competitions, acquisitions, exhibitions, cruel traditions,
Making fortunes from munitions
Needing apps, logo caps, marketing traps, mutton flaps
People working till they collapse
Bosses, losses, jewel-encrusted crosses,
Mass-produced taco sauces
Confining souls to pigeonholes
Our world is crap on cruise control.
Prayer rugs, cyberthugs, hard drugs, computer bugs
Small boys giggling about big jugs
Notoriety, high society, public piety, impropriety
Coping with ingrained anxiety
Toxic Reddit, fiscal debit, Chinese social credit,
It must be true because some book said it.
Misconceptions about the soul
Our world is crap on cruise control.
Salaries, calories, art and shooting galleries,
Industries based on imaginary allergies
Blister pack, zodiac, heart attack, no way back
Gym rat flashing a flat six-pack
Unsavoury bravery, generational knavery
Willing submission to gadget slavery
I’m glad that now’s the time I’m old
Our world is crap on cruise
control.
Heritage
He played the double bass
in a country music band,
back in the days
when country music was Country,
wore a string tie and a cowboy
hat,
but he’d leave the stage
whenever the band played
‘When The Saints Go Marching In’
because he considered it to be
a sacrilegious song.
He believed that bestiality is
illegal
in order to prevent the birth
of monstrous half-human babies
–
he’d seen the photos
in the sensationalist tabloids
that he enjoyed.
He had a tight little toothless
smile
because his granny had taught
him
that it’s impolite to show others your
teeth.
Dogs know this.
He lived to have several
grandchildren,
almost all of whom
had tight little toothless smiles
when they smiled at all.
Science
Answering My Questions
The professor presenting a
paper
to a conference in Gibraltar
on Neanderthal research
that I saw on YouTube
stressed that one of many
factors
in Neanderthal people’s
geographical range
was the availability of fresh
water,
and I thought, Of course! Without fresh water
how could they have made themselves coffee in the morning?
Specimen and Species
I saw a huge cockroach
in my bathroom this morning,
happily a rare experience
nowadays.
It was on the top of the blinds
over the sink
after I got out of the shower.
I ripped off a couple of piece
of toilet paper,
rolled the blind down a few
centimetres
until the jumbo insect fell
into the sink,
squooshed it through the
tissue,
and flushed it down the toilet.
I’m much older than it was,
and its species may indeed
outlast mine,
but I’ve outlasted it.
Neoliberal Psychological Ideology
He dismissed the first
of the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths
with a flick of his wrist,
asserting that he didn’t
suffer
because he chose
not to.
Everything,
he said,
is a matter of choice,
and he chose to
be happy.
This, of course, means that
unhappiness must
be a choice, too.
Now, since we can all agree
that unhappiness is inferior
to happiness,
this should raise the question of
not only why unhappiness exists,
but why so many billion people,
past and present,
chose, and continue to choose,
to be unhappy.
He modestly chose
not to address this question;
after all, since he chose happiness,
and unhappiness is inferior to it,
people who are unhappy
must be that way
because they’re inferior
to him.
He just may not have wanted
to say this
out loud,
y’know?
You never can tell
what unhappy inferiors might do.
Lost
In The Fog
The city that is my home
has a deserved reputation for
its fogs,
and I do love the foggy winter mornings
and the scope they provide
for my romantic imagination.
The park near my house
can become a habitat
for the Hound of the
Baskervilles
or for Russian spies lurking
vaguely
behind the leafless trees,
waiting for a contact to stroll
by
and say the secret password
so they can pass microfilms to each other.
Only nowadays Russian spies do
their dirty
in warm, dry, spotless rooms
staring at digital VDUs.
Espionage without fog, somehow,
seems to me to be
like tacos without hot sauce
or sex without at least
the illusion of love.
