History-logging and fallen timber

Below is one of my more recent poems, now a facebook note, in other words a piece of under-appreciated “public property.”

Recently I’ve been trying to group my poetry into themes, that could potentially represent sections or chapters in a poetry collection. This one would go into the “Rants” chapter. I have quite a few of those, this one is one of the more tame.



Art and Beauty stain like a writer’s ink,
a pink and joyous cursive script
across the pages of history.
But those other, nameless Legacies
flung or spat dark and pungent
like shit from a monkey’s cage:
they stick too, they stain hard.
Shit and diamonds thus compacted together
by years of tons of pressure
lie frozen in geological strata.
Thick slabs of mossy dark age give way
to microchip-laden plants, plastic rocks,
clicking hard drives in a beehive cemetery
of smartphones and tablets, slaves with no master.
Life now catalogued in binary,
blogged and tweeted, archived and undeleted
by a silicone and aluminium data-monster,
a massively-multiplayer polyheaded hydra
that cannot forget a single thing,
a conglomeration of human utterance
on the verge of awakening… There. Now.
Two red Terminator eyes glowing atop
a wire-frame titan rising like an earthquake
from this epistemic landfill.
As foretold and told before,
we are the component atoms
of the tsunami on the horizon.
History will take us whole into its mouth
and chew us to paste
with molars made of hardback books.


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