THE TAILORS OF THE SEASON

The birds' songs give

leaves to the skeleton branches of

trees; garb them

in the clothes of much

later spring. The water

in the river runs cold
- the sound of the black

stream is all about the

season barely started.

Sounds give the

naked emperor Spring

the clothes she still lacks.

27.04.2019

MIDDLE-CLASS IN LITERATURE

Enough of middle-class middle-aged men

and their crises, enough of middle-class women

approaching middle-age and their doubts;

it's all middle-class masturbation

by middle-aged (literally or figuratively;

you know middle-class ages people faster

mentally than hard physical labour physically)

authors writing to their middle-class peers,

dull like themselves, without importance:

"I'm middle-class and I drink too much alcohol

and I have an affair although I am outwardly

happily married and have a good job! Poor me!

Let's have 300 pages of this!"

Fuck this shit and off with their fingers

and their computers, off with their entire class.

This middle-class bourgeois realism

needs to burn!

25.04.2019

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF

What is the meaning of my life?

you ask, and another,

What is the meaning of the universe?

You both ask for an explanation,

a reason why things

have come into being,

why they matter now

and some goal
their continued existence
reaches for.

You want a reason

outside your own existence,

outside this universe in which you exist.

Some great reason on another brane

to give meaning to this all.

Yet meaning is in the things themselves,

as long as they exist.

Existence is meaning,

and explanation? Biology and physics,

with sprinkle of mystery.

You, this being in time and space,

create meaning through your existence.

There is no greater arc,

pre-ordained for you to follow.

There is no map but the one

you draw as you go through

the universe.

Universe whose meaning 

is in its existence; two things,

one sheltered in another which

it's part of it, and the other

observing its greater self,

drawing maps on human joys

and sorrows, of stars clusters and

super-clusters of galaxies.

Both have meaning

in their existence,

bound, and none

beyond the ripples

in matter, space and time

which that existence creates.

25.04.2019

THE RIGHT AND THE CENTRE

We must not pretend that all people are good;

that conservatives are not evil, that centrists are not weak

when it comes to spine and morals;

that hard-right wouldn't be just far-right under another name

or that centre-right wouldn't starve a child if they could.

A conservative loves a bomb, a centrist pretends to love

a bomb so that those who love a conservative

would love him too; centre-right loves a bomb

because a bomb can replace a backbone

and hard-right loves a bomb because "Deaths!", thus Aristotle proves:

That conservatives, centrists, centre-right and hard-right

are just one and the same, flavours of the

same shit, with one tasting like crap, another like faeces.

They unite, come apart and join again, you can't keep them separate.

Their merry dance is danced around suffering of humankind.

23.04.2019

EASTER

Somebody died for us,

they claim and find it comforting:

Somebody loved us so much

that they died for us!

Not since our parents died,

has there been a person alive

who would die for us.

We matter, we matter

so much that someone

two thousand years ago

died for our sake.

But that someone

rose from the dead

and lives forever,

unlike our parents.

Our parents who were ready

to die for us, and who

did let their other dreams die

for our sake,

our parents dead

shall not rise. There

is no Resurrection for them,

only the grave.

It is them we truly want,

returned to us,

but denied that joy

which would unite

adult and child,

we look at a cross

and an empty grave,

imagine that that somebody

will be a replacement,

somebody who loves us

like only our

parents have.

19.04.2019

OF GENOCIDES AND THE 'WEST'

If you worship one genocide

with crocodile tears

and impunity for an Apartheid State,

you don't have do to anything

to stop the genocides

taking place now.

This is the

understanding of the 'West'.

18.04.2019

FATA MORGANA

That quest that drives us

through this life we think eternal,

to have meaning, a distraction

from mortality and the void,

from the truth that this is a

mirage shimmering on desert

where everything dies.

We say we want to

achieve something in life,

but life goes away

and there is nothing.

There are no achievements

in oblivion,

no meaning.

We have been erased.

13.04.2019

TRANQUILITY

An oasis of calm in the

late winter night;

all my dead resting

in peace in my mind

I am left free

to be devoid of the

tumult of emotions -

the daggers of grief

taste no bitter blood,

no self-pity garbed

in the memories of

past more real

than the husk

I inhabit on these

wrecked days.

No, in this timeless

dark I am

at anchor on a windless,

waveless ocean,

the depths below the calm,

flat surface hold no

terrors. I am,

I don't feel,

thus I am in peace.

08.04.2019