After the Wars [new poem]

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after_the_wars

Sitting mindful in my ivory keep while
gazing down on every broken quantum
leap I glean that mostly all imagine they
are free though in reality their grooves
of mind are trapped in philosophical
obscurity [concocted by an otherside’s
degenerate elite] eschewing any sense of
how-to-be-a-human-being’s purity or
decency (an elevator ride to nowhere)

Or else (enveloped in some fantasy in
which they think that all and every little
thing is well in every way and evil has
no role to play except as a projection of
a weakling’s inability to whitewash out
veracity) they featherbed their feelings
while their blood of life congeals over
only things appealing to their hearts’
convenient smoothed-out icy fables

As human playtime inexorably builds
its fleshly crudely crass materialistic
bellicose unthrills towards the final
beat of drum in war there is a snowy
mountaintop of cast iron ways which
guarantee to keep one’s centre pure
in conscience and in deed no matter
what your creed or point of view may
be on this or that or any other life affair

The next world war will be the fourth.
The third has gone unseen for years
in which the glue that makes our lives
remain in tune with cosmic mores has
been unstuck while darkness forces run
amok undoing every louche tenebrous
should-remain-full-battened door which
like Pandora’s Box of old has now alas
unleashed an uncontrolled invasion

The scenes we think are natural today
(like television’s glitterpool of dung
designed to hypnotise our minds away
or papers filled with fool distractions
[truth and honour mostly go unsung]
or any addict thing which rules our life
the loud untidy paper-trails of strife
our cold undeepful hearts rejecting
perfumed strands of love unless we
stand to gain some crude advantage)
are merely ways of breaking us so we
will be unwilling to resist and thereby
fodder for the fray when blood-red
jackboot spatters have become the
dreaded but inevitable order of the day.

This cuspal era’s leading theme is “take
whatever elements you can — so long
as they’re unclean (as one example:
shit suspended floating in a poisoned
stream) — and make the people eat it
for their diet everyday” and very soon
there’ll be a serious blockage in their
passageway. Unable then to get it out
so filled with it they’ll be that every
thing they breathe and say will make a
contribution to the drought and dearth
of culture clean and smash the glow
of lovely nature’s face to smithereens

And so I say do not believe a single
claim presented in the hologram
naively we refer to everyday as life
unless you test it first to see its worth.
Trust no one till they’ve proved they
understand that most of what we
witness here’s a sham (not merely
all the stuff you see but even what
is touted everywhere as poetry!).

The weather’s closing in, the sea is
rough; we need to grow rhinoceros
skins to keep us tough (but always
wear our heartbeat on our sleeves).
On top of which we need to nurture
love of truth with wisdom long in
tooth; for when the wars are over
(I’m referring here to WW3 and 4)
and the absurd roar of foolish guns
and bombs and all the deadly prongs
which undermined the decency of
where our so-called civilisation could
have gone with all its songs without
the wilful ignorance and wrongs, we
will be left with just one thing on
which to cling with all our might:
That in and of ourlittleselves we’re
merely fly-by-nights with finite sight
who disregard the finger-pointing
glow of Light in peril of our souls

© 2012, Alan Morrison

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