Saturday, 30 January 2016

To live and die in Londis






One doesn't live in London,
one dies in London.

A Winter Queen of Bohemia in
our midst
Elsewhere lives too
dry Elizabeth Essex.
Dream of brimmed lotions,
quicksilver and
final, eternal rule.

The snail dance meets
the Stork's rising
to phoenix family
Oh yes, the praxis wheel
reccuring 'infinity',
shivering daggers of flame.


The more they have,
the more resentful they get.
Resentful bores
who, being ignoble,
in the end become
most soft-boned.

Atheism, pointless too,
because Nihil is also
a God
The Aesthetic preferable
to mere Ascetic. 





Saturday, 9 January 2016

De Montfort





Gamblers, Marquesses
impious ridiculous drunkmen 
dawn duels attended 
by liveried heretics
Wanton cornucopias of privilege,
epicene, tragic crusaded singularities
passaged by bacteria
dessicated coconut confetti,
chalky wines of monks and Kings,
fine Colombusted snow-drivel,  the
sugarcane of Corinthian Gods.


In essence there are few
who reach attic tragedy 
as attainment
they are never philosophers.
Tragedy is impersonal nobility,
tragedy is a fiery dragon on 
a turning wheel.




















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