MESSAGE FOR JOYCE

 

…and if they say you have lied

Tell them to drop dead

And to try and die nicely

To mop dirt

To eat the dirt crumbs

Food for vile grubs

For this life hub writhes in open flaps

The Povo tapestry that pines in rotten pain

Swines and swines of effortless tears

Twines that bind the sutured head

Marauds of hopes and survival

Slow Joes with lurid hope for slow games

Mind jams

Usurped seats of old flames

 

 

…and should they halt the heart from

Loving me

Embracing me

Boil them in a pan of the Proletariat

Bludgeon the Bourgeoisie

Whip the cream of the Socialist

For you and me are not political satires

We do not burn in the incense of the Capitalist

We are altar-less in this colourless world

Parodies of betterment are our war songs

We wage a right and left wager

Eagerly we watch our lives on flimsy camera films

Dreaming of better dreams in our short sleeps

Adages of a journey that grows thin and thin

REMs that cannot be taped in their infancy

This is the Vernier caliper of our own tired strides

Yardsticks that cannot be measured

Destinies that cannot be re-mastered

 

 

…and if they say you are not worth it

The dirty linen that hangs in the earth’s view

The dirty sceptre that shadows the mind bearer

If they say you are not cut for it

And that the ring does not fit in it

Tell them about Veni, Vidi and Vici

About the paradoxes of time

Of Achilles’ Heel mending in the river Styx

The mixed cultures of longevity

The defiant peaks of Mount of Doom

How we are now a timeless clock

Sentimentalistic flocks that follow blandly

Blind fools who die still looking for the hidden pot of gold

 

This is the message for you,

This is the message for you, Joyce...