Iris to Iris, Pupil to Pupil

eyes

Iris to Iris, Pupil to Pupil

If you should ever find yourself
Eye to eye with the Devil himself,
If you should ever find yourself
Face to face with the face of Hell,
Then hold his gaze as long a spell
As you can hold that gaze.
And when you blink, (you will blink first),
Then do not think your chances cursed,
But show him as your eyelids rise
A pair of still and steely eyes
That stare out straight and sharp and wise,
That no reflex shall maze.

The Bogeyman

demon eyes

The Bogeyman

Please give me someone to hate –
A politician to despise,
To slander and dehumanise
And make a monster in my eyes.

Please come and stoke-up my hate –
Give me a minister to stone,
Legitimise my constant moan,
And whistle in an undertone.

Please let me bask in my hate
To justify my diva tears –
I’m longing to believe the smears,
I’m relishing exquisite fears.

Please let me trumpet my hate,
And wear my spite with friendly pride,
And close my ears to the other side,
And let no compromise abide.

Or else, let me calm my head,
And tell myself its only politics,
And tell myself its only bate and click,
And tell myself I’ve fallen for the Devil’s oldest trick:

For the greatest lie he ever told
Was telling us that he existed –
Yet his realm is deathly cold,
And human nature always twisted.

What I’ve learned is true,
From the playground to Big Ben
Is that the evil that men do, is done by men.
(And these days, women too.)

So show me a politician
And I’ll shake them by the hand
As I tell them of my mission
To frustrate their wonderland –

And if I lose, I hope that I
Can choose to walk away before I lie
And cheat for the greater good,
And lose my common brotherhood.

For ev’ry politician is a person,
Not the enemy –
For even as we fight them, we must love them,
Show them dignity,

Or we shall never understand their motives,
Why they’re voted in,
If we’re convinced they’re purley evil
And their public steeped in sin.

We must, we must be better than this,
Resist the overwrought and thunderous –
If we believe in demons, then we fall to the abyss
Where the only savage monsters will be us.

Anti-Venom

medusa
Medusa #2 by Hiroko Sakai

Anti-Venom

Gaze into the gaze of Medusa
And be forever transfixed,
Petrified by our seducer,
And the slither of her hips:
Just a flick of the tongue and a hiss of a smile,
Is all she needs to beguile her prey.
With her sleek, sleek body and her big, big hair,
And her cat-eyed long, long stare –

Back when slow-worms still had legs,
Asklepios, a shy young god,
Adrift without a cause or temple,
Just a toga and a rod,
Was blundering through Sarpedon,
Up the valley, down the scarp, and on
In search of sacred streams.
And there, within a cave, it seems,
While carefree and quite unawares,
He found the girl of his nightmares and his dreams…

For they say that young Asklepios
Had never found his way,
Until he gazed upon Medusa,
Fell in love that very day,
And swore to heal all those who pray to him,
On her behalf,
And swore to ever after bear
Her symbol round his staff.
His temple was a shrine to her will,
Where serpents freely slinked among the ill.

But these days, preachers rarely praise
The grass-snake in the grass,
The serpent in the Garden
Isn’t welcome at the mass.
Saints were crowned for banishing and slander –
Or even worse,
The mauling, groping, serpent-handlers,
Just to prove a single verse –
Snake-oil merchants, hick-wood hacks
With diamond rings and diamondbacks.

But we who gazed upon Medusa,
Goths and metalheads and geeks,
Who don’t recoil from fang and coil,
As steadfast as those ancient Greeks,
Are blessed forever with her curse –
To see in ev’ry child of hers
Her beauty – deadly if unwise –
In never-blinking eyes.

Nominative Determinism

entrepreneur
The Entrepreneur by Kathy Morris

Nominative Determinism

Dammerung Dasching:
A girl with one hell of a heck of a name !
It’s hardly her fault, of course,
She didn’t choose it –
Her thunderbolt handle is barely her blame –
In fact, it’s absurd,
But her parents once heard
Of the power a moniker has on its wearer,
And children so labelled
Were feted and fabled,
Endorsing their promise upon their proud bearer.
And so she became
An incentive for fame,
Did Dammerung Dasching – the girl in the frame.
For nobody ordin’ry gets to be called that –
She’s in for a lifetime of being enthralled-at
It’s hardly her fault, of course,
She didn’t choose it,
But hers is the force,
And she cannot refuse it.
The muses are summoned,
The devils the same:
Now they are the players and she is the game –
With a flash and a flame
From a passionate dame,
She’s Dammerung Dasching – the girl with the name.

On His Majesty’s Service

spy

On His Majesty’s Service

The spy cried as he killed her,
But the job had to be done.
A shame, but the nation’s guardians
Must sometimes use the gun.
She wasn’t an enemy agent,
Just an unintended friend –
Precisely the kind of citizen
He’d promsed to defend.
A bystander who stood in the wrong place,
Open eyes in a pretty face,
A mouth that might just blow the case.
He wept for her at the end.

Genesis – Chapter 1, Version 2

pillers
The Pillers of Creation by NASA

Genesis – Chapter 1, Version 2

In the Beginning there came forth the bursting,
With ev’rything rushing from ev’rything else
And which is still pushing on all things today,
Though no-one can feel this occur.

Then came the clouds that would slowly grow bigger
By drawing in other clouds, adding their bulk,
And the bigger they got, so the stronger they drew –
For all things attract and concur.

Then the clouds shrank, but not in their weight,
Till they’re thicker than stone and they’re thicker than gold –
Their centres grew hotter and started to burn,
And that is how stars were begun.

And in with the stars came there light and came heat,
And those parts of clouds still left over became
The planets that circle them, round and around.
And thus, although later, our Sun.

A ball of great fire, a sibling to stars,
But much, so much closer – with planets with moons
All smaller by far than the Sun at their centre.
And each, not a disc, but a ball.

And the third planet out – why, here lies the Earth !
In its earliest days, so another young planet
Collided, and flung out much debris and rock,
And the Moon was thus formed from it all.

The Earth was still hot, with no water upon –
But one day it started to rain, and to rain,
And to rain, until leaving its surface entire
Now covered by one endless tide.

And the seafloor was cracking up, carving out plates –
Floating around on the runny, deep rock,
Barging around, bringing quakes and volcanoes –
So slow, yet relentless their slide.

This caused for the granite to well from beneath –
Far tougher than seabed, this new kind of rock
Would form up the heart of the massive landmasses
That rose on up out of the sea.

Life in that ocean was also beginning –
So tiny and simple, and so it remained.
But ev’ry new offspring was just slightly diff’rent
And ev’ry slight diff’rence was key.

The better did better, the lesser did less,
The better spawned greater, and so did their young.
So slowly life changed into myriad forms.
Then life got much bigger and complex.

For came there a time when these tiny lone beings
Did better by working together, by losing
Their selfhood – to building a single large creature.
And some gave up budding, for sex.

Some became plants, who could not move themselves –
And some became animals – these ones, they could.
So many animals, so many strategies –
Hard shells and soft shells and backbones and more.

Shellfish were rampant, they’re moment had come.
Many would die out, they did not survive,
While others still thrive – and small is the diff’rence.
They filled all the sea from the waves to the floor.

The first on the land were the plants on the beaches,
Spreading thence over the virgin terrain,
And bugs were soon following, creeping and flying,
As coal was creating from dead tree and fern.

The fish had grown out of a wormlike beginning.
Some pulled themselves out of the water with fins,
At first only briefly, then longer and longer,
Until came the time when they didn’t return.

Unlike the insects, these creatures grew larger,
And larger, and larger, and ever more so.
But when the Earth changed, they could not survive it –
Except for the birds, who flew on.

Now came to prominence more fish-descendants,
Who bore their young live and who nursed them with milk –
They filled up the landscape the giants had quitted,
But stones still remain of those gone.

Some were the monkeys, who lived in the trees,
And some had grown larger, and some had come down,
And walked on their hind-legs, and upright, and tall –
These were the humans.  So now you all know.

And all this had taken so many years, many.
More than a thousandfold thousand of lifetimes.
And still it continues today, and tomorrow –
And so days will come, then, and so days will go.

But all that I tell you is not the whole tale.
Parts have been left out that need to be told
Parts to be sought out, to draw back the veil,
And parts yet to happen, that wait to unfold.

Apoplexigraphy

pedant

Apoplexigraphy

‘Irregardless’ – I love it !
It drives the pedants wild !
A double-neg that disses regs –
A blithe, unruly child.
You know just what it means, admit it !,
For all you raise a stink –
And so we’re never gonna quit it,
Irregardless what you think.

No True Scotsmen

tartan

No True Scotsmen

When the news is full of more beheadings,
Bombs on busses, boots on deserts, holy war,
And drones attacking family weddings
From Benghazi to Lahore,
I turn to Senator and Mullah both,
And ask them, have they any peace to barter ?
Is there any hope for growth
From Casablanca to Jakarta ?

But each calls the other a shirker:
Says the Senator “Ye see that Ayrab ?
He’s nae Rab, he’s a dirty Sassenach.”
The Mullah snorts in his tartan Burqa:
“That Yank’s nocht but a flithy Irish !
Aye, aw pish, an’ a plastic Mac.
Now, I am a Jackobite rightly through,
As ginger as the white-on-blue,
From Samarkand to Timbuktoo !”
At this, the Senator gives laldy:
“Listen, pal, I may be black,
But I still can gie ya heid a crack,
And I’ll see youse, Yaqub, if ye’s lookin’ a’ me !”

To His Cold Mistress

sophy
Sophy Gray by John Millais

To His Cold Mistress

Shend me not, my mistress,
Send my not to Coventry,
Attend to kinder business, pray,
To mend and soften me.
Defriend-me-not, my darling,
Let me tender and atone.
Unbend a little, starling,
Ere we spend our years alone.
Shend me not, my mistress,
Send me not distressed and listless, pray –
O, end this plot, unblend us not,
Nor render our love misbegot –
For we have kenned such tenderness
And we have wended as we went –
We can re-friend such splendour, yes !
We can ascend and be unshent.

 To shend is a wonderful if now archaic verb meaning ‘to put to shame’ or ‘to reproach and scold’.

A pyrrhic gift (3)

frame less eyeglasses on newspaper
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A pyrrhic gift (3)

A crossword book with a pen attached –
Now isn’t that thoughtful…there must be a catch…
Of course !  It’s a pen, not a pencil they proffer –
It’s starting to look like less of an offer.
We have to commit to the answers we choose
No try-this-for-nows or perhaps-that’ll-dos.
Just black squares and white squares,
Such tiny wee white squares,
And make one mistake and the whole grid will sink –
So pencil-pussies best beware,
This game is won by those who dare,
By those who leave their mark on life in ink.