Canto 29: Coalescence

The unknown weapon is radiant lightning, a devastating messenger of death, which turn’d all to members of Vrishni & Andhaka clans to ashes. Their whiten’d bodies became unrecognizable. Those who escaped lost their har & nails – as if eaten by insects. In a very short time food became poisonous.

Death of Basho

The messenger sprinted across the sand,
Baring the loss of the Yamamoto,
Before the noble lord of his command…
As Basho’s senses stirr’d by Bushido;
he unsheath’d blade,
Finger’d the grip’s shark-skin,
No longer, now, afraid… he drew his charges in.

Grubby cheeks rubb’d powder-rouge red
Reflecting the bloody glow
Flaring upon each soldier’s head
When sever’d from it’s torso…
Surrounded by his loyal dead
It was his turn to go –
Smiling the grave grimace of Seppuku
Across his side his sword he slowly drew.

Dragonfly thron’d on lotus claw,
Sat by a bonsai tree,
Intestines pour, white waves of gore,
Honour’d Hari Kari!
Serving the soul with mystic realms of tryptych chivalrie.

Mount Shuri
June 21st


A New Bomb

Carefree strolling thro’ the Sans Soucci,
Poetgarden of the playboy Kaisers,
Relaxing by the royal Jungfernsee,
Stalin deeper strategies devises
For Molotov’s
Superb post-conflict plans;
Schloss Cecilienhoff’s grand gathering of clans

Conjoins as occident chieftans,
Together, tongue-tied, appear,
Where truth-charged comments of Patton’s
Barge freely round Truman’s ear;
“Why should we stop, when those Russians
We also too could clear!”
Today, with Allies distinctly divided
How cautious was their converse conguided.

With Poland diff’rently shaded,
A time for frankness come,
Truman traded glances & said,
We have forged a new bomb,
Intended to smite low Japan,” fresh devils beat the drum.

August 1st


Royal Awakening

Calls for unconditional surrender
Emanate from that stately Postdam room,
Tojo pleads, “Terms too harsh, Lord Emperor…
The nations honour vital as her doom.”
Majestic, “No!”
Then Hirohito sigh’d,
“The time has come to grow, too many sons have died.”

While Tojo slid away to brood
At the Yasukini shrine,
The Emperor explor’d his mood
With a glass of Saki wine,
His vision ev’ry vista view’d
From Saipan to the Rhine;
Events & forces spiral from control,
A broken fortress at an empires fall.

He sent out his meditations
Upon their fastest steeds,
“Fly, fly my sons, fly to Russians,
Fly to the Swiss, the Swedes,
Let peace rush once more round the world as water does the reeds!”

August 4th


Nuclear Dawn

On flexing orthoptic Truman insists,
Despite Japan’s offers of perfect peace,
B29 whines thro’ dense morning mists,
A break in the clouds… the new bomb’s release;
Their mission done
Men turn & bank away,
Flash brighter than the sun washes th’Enola Gay.

Nippon’s fair skies were ripp’d apart
By an awesome sphere of fire,
Hotter than Sol’s star-boilant heart,
Birth of the new messiah,
No brush of Pre-Raphaelite art
Could paint this awful pyre,
As in horrific instant Balrog comes
Bestride ten raging trillion atoms.

Cometh the cloud of fungal shape,
No nat’ral law could halt
Its gruesome rape, a cityscape
Spectres of Hebrew salt,
Forms leprous, red-raw populace, or shadows in asphalt.

August 6th


A Knockout Blow

The shockwaves of that terrible whirlwind
Tornadoes form, F5 morality,
But, come the dusts, Democracy hath pinn’d
His badges on the breasts of Liberty,
Close must the clash,
How can Japan fight on,
When in a single flash whole cityscapes are gone.

“This morning, sire, we were attack’d…”
“Which place?” “Hiroshima,
As of yet they’ve made no contact…”
Sadness fell’d the Emperor,
“How can this be, the city lack’d
For naught, I remember…”
Came later in the day the stunning truth,
When wept he for the old ones & the youth,

When holding head in trembling hands
He rued all he had done,
& understands the world demands
The setting of his sun,
“We must make peace, to Molotov release my decision.”

August 6th


Extreme Force

“Things alter’d very much since Tsushima,”
Says Molotov to the ambassador,
“This morning we attack’d Manchuria,
& thus is our declaration of war!”
With this red wreath,
The Soviet Jackal
Sinks perdifious teeth in Japan’s carcass skull.

As soldier seizes higher ground
To win the battle below,
A pilot bristles over ground,
From the fuselage lets go
Another moment to astound,
A new Nagashino –
Now forms the mad noise of many waters,
Nuclear phrenzie swarms as she slaughters.

As Liberty’s long vision drew
Closer magnaminous,
With quick one-two victory flew
Yon that black wilderness,
Gaunt skeletons strewn thro’ the ash defines total success.

August 9th


Victory in Japan

Today the fever of the globe subsides,
Some Monadnock restored unto the world,
Across Missouri’s deck MacArthur strides,
For him the battle banners sadly furl’d;
His brood had brought
The safety of the Earth,
Full fiercely had they fought for lasting Freedom’s birth.

War brands a mark upon the slave
& hurls him to the slaughter,
Death pins a badge upon the brave,
Whose names are writ in water,
Fate carves respects into each grave,
Memorized forever…
Forever, ah! forever but to be
Forgotten like the Spanish Tragedie.

Most odoriferous conflict
Of ghost-dim histories,
A multi-victim count edict
To gross stupidities,
Trompeting bloodlet knowledge of Man’s capabilities.

Tokyo Bay
August 14th



Ful fragrant with the buttercups of June,
Deep Summer’s musk still sunset lingering,
When all of all Selene’s harmony in tune
Reflected in warm-fringed mellowing;
When woods in leaf
By nature gently nurs’d,
Suede moment of relief afore the golden burst.

In a whirl of wars & truces
The pageant of history
Has walk’d well with all the muses
& therin the poetry
Pays good homage to Confucious’
Peaceful testimony,
For surely this a moment of sublime
When Dawn’s lush calm is flusht across a time.

From Darwen to Acapulco,
From Budapest to Lourdes,
From Palermo to Tokyo,
From Ankhorage to Rhodes,
A whisper of sweet silence as the priesthood the scabbard swords.



War is Over

The Alps felt the first frost-fall of the year,
A soft, white sheet to blanket all with snow,
Jean Francois look’d down from a higher tier
Upon the rooves of Briancon below;
With scarfless throat,
No spike, no pick, no rope,
Like some rough mountain goat he scamper’d down the slope.

By underwater mountain stream,
Crystal waters crisp & clear,
Jean descended as if adream,
Startl’d herds of roving deer
Sent scattering by friendly beam,
Then as the inn grew near,
He thank’d his god, his land, his libertie,
Cursing the name infernal of Nazi.

He stept into ‘Les Montemar,’
Life lazes at a pace,
Walks to the bar, “Stella Artois…”
“Huit francs…” straight waitor-face,
“Huit francs! Huit francs pour un Artois, monsieur c’est un disgrace!”


Canto 30: Reverberations

The dust from the battlefield
Made the entire universe dirty



Danny watch’d his brutal abandonment,
With fellow Aussie yellows left to die,
In this hell has perish’d the innocent,
Starv’d, tortur’d & the malarial fly;
More-or-less ghouls
This huckl’d skeletal
Lives buckl’d under rules, abandoned & brittle.

A week had pass’d & still no sign
Of the world that went outside,
‘Til down the Burmese railway line,
Where the ghosts of death abide,
A healty force, fresh-fac’d & fine
Victorious, allied,
Came on to free their comrades from they camps
Are they soldiers?” life flickers in the lamps.

Danny ferried to Malaya,
Where all his woes began
Insane soldier, aeons older,
Forever alter’d man,
A vague & vanquish’d victim of imperial Japan.



Meeting the Parents

To the vale twixt Pendle & Hameldon,
Carlton Dillinger rail’d his Christmas leave,
Stept into an alien environ
Where terraces thro’ chimney forests weave;
Ah! there she stood,
Like some broad from the farms,
Countenance calm & good, their cherub in her arms.

She led him thro’ those slummish rows,
Humming with community,
Where cloth cap, cobbles & torn clothes
Hardest work’d for Victory,
Upon the front door-step stood Rose
& behind her Charlie,
Glowing in his grand-paternal summer,
Yer may be a Yank but yer a Sumner!”

Despite six years of hardship pass’d,
Christmas found the Winners,
War’s awful blast over at last
&, to top their dinners,
“I’ve bin ter Flossy Bennets fer a pound o’ bananas!”

Christmas Day


The Last Grunfeld

At first her body had refused the food,
But soon she made a full recovery,
But for the empty void that was her brood,
A family without a family:
Her thoughts ascrew,
Her soul too shock’d to grieve,
What Anna had lived thro’ no modern could believe.

The hospital left in the dark
That is the day of Winter,
Small portion of this new ‘Deutschmark’
Was all the Allies leant her,
She took a seat in leaf-shorn park,
Took a seat with nature,
The nature of a cold & hostile land,
Could anybody ever understand?

She stood there huddl’d in the damp,
O lowly echelon,
Crude bench her camp, waiting the lamp…
Since Titus & Chillon,
The vicarious atonement of the anointed one.



Two Mothers

“We’re shackin’ up mam!” sez Maggie Sumner,
Rose gave a joyous blessing with her tears,
How handsome was this Seargent Dillinger
If only she could turn back thirty years…
….& then… bombshell,
Love-bubble dissipates
“Butt Mam, prepare y’sell… we’re livin’ in the States!”

They pledge their troth at Saint Mary’s,
Honeymoon by Morecambe sea,
Then a tayle for childhood fairies
Very far from family,
Maggie drives past countless dairies,
Carlton points at a tree…
“I used to climb that as a boy!” he said,
His white farm-house cresting the mount ahead.

Rita’s life-reason, ripest pearl,
Returns to her by car,
Her senses swirl, who is this girl?”
“Maggie, come meet mah ma!”
Well aint ya girl just beautiful!” Maggie replies a “Ta!



Grand Palace of Justice

Of an empire born & drown’d in crimson,
Naught but wire-zones by conq’rers occupied,
Cigs, soap & shoes fuse with prostitution,
High-browed JUSTICE combing the countryside;
How deft they sought
Those pale, arch-criminals
Array’d in Hitler’s court… evil’s first disciples.

Faced with denoument for their crimes,
These cauterized men appear
As scapegoats for those crazy times,
Televised throughout the year,
Where daily with his honour climb’d
One dashing cavalier
With ever-present energy, Goering,
Still preaching loyally for his darling.

Forjudgement pluck’d from fearsome well
Of hard-fought opinion,
Harken! Doom bell! The Reichmarshall
Swallows secret poison,
His comrades don the sack… noose… trapdoor… <THWACK>… oblivion…



Friends & Family

Across the dusty bush the long ways wind,
Inside a bus young Danny thought of ‘things,’
His best mate, Slater, mainly on his mind,
The driver drawls, “Welcome to Alice Springs!”
White men mingling
With Aboriginee,
Pass’d thro’ him spine-tingling homecoming energy.

He bumm’d a lift in Richie’s Ute,
Went hurtling thro’ the Outback,
Neath powd’ry wheels pink lizards shoot
As the tarmac turn’d to track,
‘Tween rusted shears & gnarly boot
They park’d by Slater’s shack,
“G’day,” says Bruce outstepping from the truck,
Dan shook not human hand, but shook a hook.

They spent the evening downing beer
& reminiscing Shane,
The stars appear, they toast a cheer,
“In sunshine, wind or rain
He ran those bastards ragged!” “That’s my boy!” pride hides his pain.



Jewish Homeland

As when an absent husband’s footfalls near
The restless, sleepless bed & echo loud
All thro’ an iron house, when wives appear
As naked fields of pleasure to be plough’d;
The promised land,
With its people conjoins,
Hebrew at the news-stands bought by these brand new coins.

The pages of the Exodus
Mirrors to the modern Jews,
Those ictims of witch-hunt purges,
Reviled for sacred values,
Having since the march of Titus
Wander’d Europa’s views,
Millennial persecutions endured,
Until the cause of all those woes here cured.

Anna Grunfeld got off the train
End of the torrid line,
To start again, despite the pain,
Beneath a pure sunshine –
Where after two Millenia Moses views Palestine.



Death of Stalin

While hatching plans of ditching Russia’s Jews
In Gulags grim, his last & ghastly whim,
A life of drinking drains a body’s fuse,
His doctors afear’d even to touch him;
Bright morning sun
Lights rooftop Muscovy,
For him forever gone this nevermore shall see.

The Devil & his Grandmother
Blend with the loyal people,
Unopporobrious enigma
Of his feted funeral,
Despite intolerant terror;
Largely responsible
For forty million dead citizens –
& all those lads slain by the Nazi guns.

What hordes of terracottan rows
To this procession came,
From steppe & snows, to stop & pause
By monster, death-still, tame;
Extensional subordinates of an unearthly fame.



A Game of Ten-Pin

The Warsaw Pact has drawn the battle- lines,
America looks ‘underneath the bed,’
Searching for proof of KGB designs,
From now on anyone could be a Red!
Pledging belief,
Witchfinders bind the air,
Negrodom breathes relief, the hate channel’d elsewhere.

“Have fun!” call’d Maggie Dillinger
To her husband & his pal,
Coolest Choctaw from Croatia,
Porter down the hospital,
Boys high-five the happy driver –
The chubby-cheek’d Big Al –
Together them went roaring off to bowl,
The nickels toss’d, their team sheet pins the wall…

All was ultra-jingoism,
They shouted Ivan’s name,
Communism, lib’ralism,
Perhaps they’re just the same,
They bann’d him from the bowling club before he’d play’d a game.


Canto 31: Progress of Peace

There shall be peace forever between these people
Zeus, the all-seeing met with destiny to confirm it
Singing all follow our footsteps


Capturing Eichmann

The modern world from violent spasms born,
Of all those scars one taunts us like a ghost,
Forever by one sordid word world-known,
The horror-swarm’d unholy ‘Holocaust;’
Deck’d with virtue
Of good Sir Galahad,
To Argentina flew a crew of young Mossad.

They found him living out his life,
Gutter’d below his station;
A nothing job, a plain, old wife,
Meaninglessly suburban;
A quiet street, as sharp as knife,
Men pounced upon Eichmann,
He was the modicum of modesty
Admitting, there, his true identity.

Nervously shaking, coffee spilt
Upon the hotel bed,
Tho’ weigh’d with guilt voice did not wilt
While naked truths were said;
But even he could not explain why all those Jews were dead.

Buenos Aires


Death of Churchill

Back to the halls of power nobly trekk’d
Our cigar-smoking stalwart of the West,
Back at the hustings wins back wide respect,
Prime epaulette pinn’d on his noble breast;
That famous fire
Still glimmers in the eye,
While memoirs of Empire revive the Nobel prize.

But age is age & to us all
Must pass eventually,
Forever to resign the role
On the move to Sicily,
He breaks his hip, a clumsy fall,
Pain hidden stoic’ly,
He hugs his darling wife & takes her hand,
“Take me home, I wish to die in England.”

Three hundred thousand sombre file,
Their Wellington, their mate,
Mile-after-mile, a human Nile,
Their civic oak in state;
Buried within the gardens of his ancestor’s estate.

Blenheim Palace


Maggie Dillinger

Flying oer English fields… via Heathrow,
& Euston… same fields up to Manchester,
Moors around Rawtenstall brushes with snow,
A strange sensation, home to Lancashire;
Drizzle-soak’d air,
Winds roaming all achill,
She aims a poignant stare, “Kids, that there’s Pendle Hill!”

Up Manny Road bi Shanks’ Pony,
Sees Trafalgar flats amaze,
Instead of tender history
Faded pockets of past days,
But jesting with her family
Invokes old jokes & ways,
The bungalow housing her mam & dad
Soon full of booze, soon riotous, soon mad!

Mam rocks her latest grand-child, Bern,
Most folk don’t give a toss,
What people earn’s their main concern!”
“Aye, & the bleedin cost,”
“These days,” pipes Dad, “the neighbours would prefer us to get lost!”



The Last Soldier

The one-man War of Hiroo Onada
Comes to an end one honour-bursting day,
Wielding his war-flag at the surrender,
His sword still sharp, his hair now gushing grey;
With high-held head
He leaves a life behind,
Scores of unsoldier’d dead, the last lad of his kind.

Stepping into another age
He could hardly recognize
Fierce teenagers, crime waves a-rage
& women painting their eyes…
The sacred lands wear new image,
Severing ancyent ties…
“Where is Japan? What devils walk the street?
Did we give up our pride with our defeat?”

He stood at the hurricane’s eye,
Twas alien indeed,
Noise drown’d a cry, the world flasht by,
At such terrific speed,
The lonely sole survivor of the empire’s fallen breed.




Drain’d by the stresses of this modern life,
The Dillingers pleasantly seperate,
He takes a sleek & sexy Texan wife
While Maggie, too, seeks out a second mate;
At Port-au-Prince
She finds a paradise,
Where credit cards convince lithe, young blacks to entice.

Jules met her by the crystal caves
& kiss’d her in the moonlight,
Went down with her to see the graves
Sinking since that shameful fight,
When White Men came to shore in waves
To claim a sattelite –
Pipping both Cuba & the KGB,
A conquest in the name of Liberty!

Tho’ dollars have replaced cannon
Still on they come!” he said,
“Lets have some fun,” they sank in sun,
Drank rum & ran to bed –
She quiver’d as his tongue deliver’d lightning to her head.



World Cup

It seems mankind has found a safer War,
Better for conducting trials of nations,
Congeal’d, tarsticky pools of blood no more,
Just a ball & its country’s champions;
With trident-studded boot,
Thousands of spectators stood breathless as they shoot.

Four years have pass’d since that great day
When Muller stunn’d the English,
Each Dutchman seem’d a new Pele,
A penalty to finish!
But puff’d-up by patriot bray
The Germans accomplish
A goal, & then another, turns the tide,
The final whistle hails a nation’s pride.

Max Stemmler bellows with the crowd,
Tho’ now an ageing man,
Proud to be loud, proud to be proud,
Beckenbaur in the van,
A golden globe is held aloft, the game had gone to plan.




From permafrost to burning Crimea,
Russians embrace communist theorum,
Sharing nidamental Utopia,
Alas, with Paradise, just one problem:
Our Human mind,
Quite volatile, unwise,
Possesses self-designed seeds of our own demise.

Latvia & Uzbekistan,
Ukraine & Lirgizia,
Moldavia & Khazakstan,
Elegant Estonia,
Azerbaijahn, Jadzhikistan,
Byelorus & Georgia,
All ballot independence as the Wall
Crumbles into a heap, Germany whole.

The victor of the two-time War:
Hollywood & Disney,
Vast oceans roar against thy shore,
Land of the soaring free,
Entangl’d in alliances from sea to shining sea.



Modern Holocaust

Back in the city where the Arch Duke died,
Murder to herald those millions more,
Thought has return’d to gruesome genocide
Fed by another bloody civil war;
Massive schism
Of Yugoslavia,
Petrifies each Muslim of Eastern Bosnia.

The UN leave the safe enclave
Allah’s acolytes to fears,
The Serbs come on, wave-after-wave,
One hundred & fifty years
Since they were flung into a grave,
Protruding spikes & spears –
Where reaching a warehouse in Glogova,
Thro’ their forces flies the goddess KARMA.

Our modern times denies this real,
Machine guns & grenades
Whip, whoom, & wheel, as wounds congeal
Ten thousand join the shades,
At these last corpses filling pits, Europa’s War-lust fades.



When Mavis met Tommy

Tommy Sumner shuffl’d with the old dears
Into the mini-bus outside their home,
The driver sets off to three rousing cheers,
All off to idle by the Irish foam;
An old penny
Was won within the hour,
Claimd by bingo Betty, first to spot the tower.

They book’d into a B&B,
Tour’d the same old streets & sights,
By-the-sea was far too windy
So they tram’d along the lights,
Then all the ladies left Tommy
For chips & early nights,
So he took a walk ter’ Winter Gardens,
& sat on the seat of Mavis Johnston’s…

That’s my stool!” “Sorry, love, dint know!”
They hit it off at once,
Warm talk’s fair flow to long ago,
Rich in reminiscence,
When nights ran Earendillian, vermilion suspense!


Canto 32: Immortals IV

A brighter morn awaits the human day,
War with its million horrors, & fierce hell
Shall live but in the memory of Time,
Who, like a penitent libertine, shall start,
Look back & shudder at his younger years
Percy Bysshe Shelley


Dragonsflight bares the brunt of the Gryphon,
Below their fight, embattl’d in the surf,
Celtic braves war for noble Gwyddion,
All glory-worthy roaring to the turf;
Sam’s martial star
Emblazon’d on his tank,
Puffing a fat cigar for how Hell’s legions stank.

 Gunshafts shell-after-shell did throw
To invert & invalid,
Sam drove his tanks into a foe
Of flesh-hood foul & acrid,
Be-elzebub survey’d the show
All worried & well hid,
A message from his master brings relief,
“Return to Hell…” joyous, in disbelief,

Sam smiled as his enemy flees,
View sweetening the veins,
Archangel breeze Saint Denys frees
From her barbaric chains,
“Pyerun awaits our armies, come we march to Asgard’s plains.”



Assault of Hell

Some say the descent to Hell is easy,
But not if harken’d from divinest spheres,
Fine-linen’d Jove drove his wool-white army,
Steps heralded by stythneaf trumpeteers;
Cerberus chain’d,
Crossing the Acheron,
A horde of angels drain’d the cess-pool Stygian!

The Nether Regions’ cack & piss
Bore Babababagorath,
Pleiades sever’d with a hiss,
Skulls & carcass clear’d from path,
The Daemon hordes defending Dis
Suffer’d the Holy Wrath,
Unleash’d by the Ark of the Covenant,
On to the Phlegethon those pure souls went.

Balrog detects Satanus face
Is laced with ancyent fear,
Desperate race, at fearsome pace
The Hosts of Heaven near!”
Claw raises gourd… “But my side of the bargain hold I here.”



Twilight of the Gods

How gruesome is the Gotterdammerung,
Fought in the name of gracious Liberty,
Odin weeps for his heroes, dead so young,
& dabbing tears, flyting, turns to Loki;
“Wherefore art the
Armies of Hell?” a smile –
The enfant terrible turns back into Belial.

As flew away that treach’rous cur
In a cachinnating cloud,
Rose the call for his surrender,
Odin barks refusals proud,
Fanfaronading Valhalla,
Moon dons a blood-red shroud,
Whence from the skies rain stars & satellite,
The dense one slain & with him drains the fight.

As Michael, George, Zorya, Pyerun,
Ice King, Volodomyr,
Sam, Gwyddion & proud Gryphon,
Took leave of the Aesir,
Whose land & lives behind a rising ocean disappear.



Satanus’ Last Stand

By Geryons flank’d, & vile Barbariccas,
Blade of unholy fire in talon’d hand,
Midst Malebolge’s rolling bolgias
Satanus, with his firm, shall make their stand;
Tho’ forces thinn’d,
They Seraphim first foil,
With swift, sulphuric wind malignant & aboil.

Saint Michael at the Dragon flies
& chains the grand betrayer,
Jove flings starlight from divine eyes
At Mars, whom, in terror,
Drops to knees, flops, groans & sighs,
Always & forever,
His martial age seems over with the guts
Worm-oozing from a thousand bleeding cuts.

The Devil swivels in his seat,
Hits Balrog with a smile,
Odin’s defeat total, complete
Death, treachery & guile,
& honour has been satisfied… Balrog, the promis’d file?”



Judgement of Jupiter

Jove reach’d the ruins of a city lost
Long times ago, when Mars was in his prime,
Calling for Jupiter his echoes toss’d
That name thro’ temples in a mono-rhyme;
Some ghostly shade
By faith namore sustain’d,
Slouch’d humbl’d & afraid, by ev’ry breath bepain’d.

“Old god,” spoke Jove, “Look in these eyes,
Tho’ your body crippl’d, weak,
Your mind still prospers very wise,
I’ve travel’d to hear ye speak,
Of better lives we phantasize,
Of finer age we seek,”
The old god thought awhile, & then did say,
“Bring Mars to trial, then fling him leagues away.”

Wise words,” mused Jove, “My thanks, old friend,”
The great God out-thrust palm,
That did suspend, Rome’s best legend
Hard-grabs instead his arm,
& squeez’d it tight, “Put him some place he’ll never do us harm!”



Balrog’s Legacy

Long-horn hastily mounts his vampyre steed
Replenish’d of it’s stock of scarlet fuel,
Satanus, I shall help you as agreed,”
& gave his friend that crackling, azure jewel;
Then giddiyupp’d
Beyond the halls of Hell,
To violently erupt by Midgard’s cloudy swell,

Then shooting thro’ the stratosphere,
Summer twinkling with all stars,
Satanus watch’d them disappear,
Slouch’d ‘hind adamantine bars,
Stroking his technologic gear,
Aid for his future wars,
Puah’d diamonds in its sockets for to glean
Secrets mysterious filling the screen.

Grey Tepig passes Jupiter
Uranus & Pluto,
Her warrior, her passenger,
Hauls reigns… as she did slow
Balrog back-glances on a dancing planet’s blue-green glow!



Heavenly Judgement

Jove greets the Gods, campus-stella seated,
On deathless islands spinning round his own,
Mars stood there, dejected & defeated,
Tied to white rocks in front of Heaven’s throne;
The trial begins,
The Prosecution starts,
Listing a bunch of sins & crunching juror’s hearts.

But need we him,” springs Liberty,
When tyranny uprising,”
“Surely not,” sings Saraswathi,
“Warfare aids each tyrant king,”
“Let him keep his divinity,”
Offer Buck$ & St£rling,
“I disagree,” groans greying Gwyddion,
“Hough! Look at what his presence here hath done!”

After the Gods had rais’d their voice
A show of hands was sought,
Angels rejoice! O happy choice!
“Guilty!” proclaims the court,
As, gurgling on congealing blood, “NOOooooo!!….” roars from War’s raw throat.



War’s Futility

We are all planets to a greater star,
These stars subservant to a further force,
Balrog, at last, returns to his own war,
Dadghab-at-arms tethers his feather’d horse;
Shock & relief
Swept thro’ his regiment,
Whose chieftans shall debrief this errant lieutenant.

Says Balrog, “I have seen a sphere
Not worth our recognition…”
“Then come,” says Gen’ral Balthazeer,
There is a vital mission,
The armies of the Usgoth near
Marching in precision,
We press on ye the need to make attack,
To win the day & fling these rascals back!”

Our mighty Balrog join’d a horde
Of dashing cavalry,
With plasma-sword, with purpose, pour’d
Into an enemy,
To be soon slain… from war’s cruel pain tragedy comes only.




With Jove’s Archangels hovering above,
Mars was allow’d to kiss his last goodbyes,
Thro’ bloodshot sockets Venus beams her love,
As he was led beyond her, thro’ the skies,
Deep into space,
Yon Universe frontiers,
T’where sable pits replace those supermassive spheres;

They found an ancyent galaxy
Where supernovae flashes
Implode in awesome density,
Turn diamonds into ashes,
Mars cast into chain-gravity;
“Tho’ yells he, & thrashes,
Incapable, eternal, of escape,
Namore that little planet shall he rape,”

Puffs Mab, sipping a herbal mead,
Drawn with scented flowers,
KARMA agreed, a quaint, “Indeed,”
An Age Aquarius,
Drifts thro’ the harbour of Our Times, a bay most beauteous.


Canto 33 : L’Altoparnasso

Study the past, if you would divine the future



I watch the world, sipping my mellow wine,
& from things deeper mysteries did glean,
Sensing the Hesiodic voice divine
To sing what has become & what has been;
& in that song,
My life’s true charity,
Distinguish right & wrong for all posterity.

The answer is we learn from War
Life shall burn where’er it flares,
So let us learn from it no more
& bend our swords to ploughshares,
Come deem them righteous rulers, awe
To those who show clear cares,
Friends, let us concentrate all strength & mind
On loving Mother nature & her kind.

This is no simple shepherd’s song
Once sung in Sicily,
For right or wrong we bards belong
In stranger company,
Sat at the feet of godhead, pledg’d before infinity.



Ye Bards! this is what sunset should look like
From Delphi, blood-orange, immaculate,
I urge on thee come take this healthy hike
Up to the trench where Pegasus placed foot;
Come curb your thirst!
This Castalian Spring
Shall make ye poet first, & then a druid-king!

But only if ye persevere
Thro’ twenty years of training,
Sing lyrics when the skies are clear,
Write renku when them raining,
Embrace the decades full austere,
Ever be abstaining,
From all the crude distractions of a life,
Whose only succor comes with thy true wife!

Deem women, where the Muses dwell,
Heart, twinkle, touch & trust,
Art’s dewy dell more musty cell
When lusting them non-plussed,
My love lies with me as I write, without her I am dust!




I landed me beside a gorge of green
& greys & beige in rugged rock ingrain’d,
Beholden to a beauty rarely seen,
& in that moment holy bliss obtain’d;
Where silver lines
Swept ‘cross the snowy tops,
Below those hoary pines to roaring water drops.

I saw the twelve Olympians
Resume their former glories,
Mars & his rude centurions
Are banish’d to old stories,
Satanus & his minions
Beaten, & what’s more is,
Their dark endeavours ever put away,
The celebrating Gods before me play.

This hymnographic psaltery
Was slowly pass’d among
The company, a symphony
Of poetry & song,
Sing Plato, Aristophones & Xenophon along!

Mount Olympus



All afloat thro’ rootless modernity,
Ilmarinen’s anchors of intension
I’ve plung’d into this vast posterity,
Found everything frozen in suspension;
This bardic art
Both past & future sees,
As summit mistlings part, gyr falcons drink the breeze.

I climb’d the mountain fast & free,
Funambulistic sailing,
Upon the peak-caps turn’d to see
The universe unveiling,
Futures luteus flew to me,
Visions uncurtailing,
Of Nostradamianical content
Mimesi messianical frequent.

Actions, places, names & dates,
Bejimbling in a dream
Of allied states, of psyche’s gates,
This is the saffron stream,
Hu preaching on a Pendragon thro’ star-fleec’d snorts of steam.

Mount Olympus



Desquamately descending Olympus,
Some tousl’d, fretless urchin on the slopes,
Some tenderfoot searching for Maecenas,
Some lively cornucopia of hopes;
Down happy trails,
Orpheus in these heels,
My song & subject sails & with my spirit seals.

It seems the years of World War Two
More a modern Trojan War,
Enough to elevate our view
Over all those wars before,
Herr Hitler & his surly crew
Denied that cancer-core,
As far from them, & those who courted Mars,
We whistle to Tchaikovsky in our cars.

As soon as I stood sub-montane
I raced off round the bay
To board my plane, like sugar-cane
This poem by me lay,
Awaiting editorial some golden, doric day.


Aquarian Age

Ye men shall speak of us with sheer disgust,
How on Earth could we have let War happen,
To thee I leave this tryptychrie in trust,
So things like these should not occur again:
A grievous weight,
Beginning on this date for all futurity!

Warfare hath flown, per dans cette terre,
Le mort caches sont bien,
Borders are open everywhere
To every European,
Whose ancestors dark trials did share,
Hauled below the Scaean
Unnumber’d, multitudinous, immense –
How many lives robb’d of life’s innocence?

Asoka’s edicts I have seen
War’s monuments may you,
Days pass’d have been disturb’d, obscene,
But from the gore their grew
This peaceful pearl, this precious planetary parvenu!



When two traditions meet in epic song,
There history & poetry converge
Upon a point called nexus, whence among
Man’s consciousness progressive senses merge;
Tilling the soil,
Planting these sapling shoots,
Which over time uncoil as fields of figs & fruits.

So grow, ye lotus-burnish’d gold,
Ye zest-infested lemon,
Go store these tales of glories old
For future to look back on,
Five thousand years must now unfold
Before this age is run;
Half-way, of course, some Homer might arise
& half-an-age in poesy realize.

To thee, old friend, our baton pass’d,
In thee lives Homer’s throne,
The years roll fast… eftsoons… at last,
Thy song shall set in stone,
Scratching the zephyrs’ tapers with thy breathless stylophone.

April 2nd



My friends, interdependent every one,
Mankind must now exist & sing & laugh;
Obama stands before a rising sun
Below the world-immortal cenotaph;
So many names
Oerframe him, etch’d in stone,
Ash-flashes in the flames of Heaven’s vulcan groan.

Seven decades long before us
Death fell newfound from the skies,
Souls firmamenting speak to us,
Their lamenting, silent cries,
Flying voices in a chorus
Of miseries & sighs,
In future days let peace all problems solve,
& morals, science, ever outevolve.”

The leader of a new Japan
Agreed with all there said,
An honest man, a kido-san,
He drops his solemn head
& shed a tear for Hiroshima’s hundred thousand dead.

May 27th


Turning Forty

These are the last stanzettas I shall write,
So many inky scribbles on a page,
Leaving the path, & stepping to the right,
I reach the velvet roads of middle age;
A perfect time
To set my spirit free
From histrionic rhyme, my mistress melody.

Last stroll I took, thro’ bluebell woods,
On our fern-life’s fairy frond,
Burst butterflies from bubbling buds
By the Younger’s gorgeous pond,
To sing, like Templars under hoods,
My song, here & beyond,
In summer sun, yet rising, still alive;
Soon all is done, aye, in a line or five.

While sat amidst the garden joys
That are my task’s reward,
With perfect poise my muse employs
This moment, soul-restor’d,
I’ll cast my pen in level lake like Arthur’s Elfen sword.

Baro Farm
May 31st