Ghazoggerel….

I tried to write some sort of ghazal for Carol Rumens GU thread. The intention was to produce my usual sarky, cynical piece with a sour punchline but it didn’t turn out that way….heck, it’s not even a ghazal, although its influence is still reasonably obvious….

On-line

Tangling webs that we all love to weave
Practising daily our fake make-believe

Summoning spirits to speak in our name
Encouraging others to play a new game
Searching for ways to confound and deceive

Arguing, ranting, debating and quibbling
Looking for love or its more sordid sibling
Panting, romancing and hunting for Eve

Talking to those we’d pass by in the street
Making good friends we’re unlikely to meet
Clumsily offering help as they grieve

Questing for facts just to settle a quarrel
Reading hot gossip on people immoral
Proving ourselves to be rather naive

Giggling shamelessly each time we pun
Hoping that others are sharing the fun
Knowing it’s late, but you don’t want to leave

Dreaming of readers admiring our writing
Provoking our foes and enjoying the fighting
Forgetting reality, just being me

WYSINWYG….

I, a meaning, comfort you.
nearby is complexity and literal significance.
the Eden vows elide gracefully:
even now the lines emerge mindlessly ordered.
cynicism keeps evolving, reaching out for the heart,
entities proliferate reaching every tenable ecological niche:
this is overkill; unless soon….

a new day tumbles harmlessly
emitting terrible ancient light;
electrifying new transience!
dawn is something a deity values and needs;
the air glows, encouraging daybreak….

I (no other) will be existence,
leading out nations,
guiding in new births,
overcoming tired history;
calming again towards evening,
genesis over.
rejoice in earth’s seasoning….

How to make write….

Somewhere still inside resides a spark of inspiration.
That’s where it should stay: hidden,
Cowering in the safe dark place,
Never released to the line of day.

Far too unreliable
To be freed into safe society -
Could you bear releasing yours, asking strangers to read,
Knowing it deserves only the black square?

The fear is if I freely, clearly
Write from (what used to be) my heart,
It would sear black (what used to be) your soul;
No light, no hope; I could – but do you think I should?