UNTIL THE STARS COME DOWN (quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever written)

An odd concept: A poem incongruously dedicated to feminism and equal gender rights (fiercely anti-misogyny, anti-patriarchy etc.)  and the indifference of the cosmos as well as something of an unashamed tribute to Wittgenstein too (I’m over reaching here) all compounded into one virtuoso (or not) poem. Stanley Kubrick in a 1968 interview (ironically with a surprisingly philosophical Playboy magazine, no less) once spoke this of the seeming Nietzschean nihilism of the universe: ‘The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death – however mutable man may be able to make them – our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfilment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.’

This could potentially be the worst poem I’ve written, particularly the ‘supernova sacks’ line. Anyway enjoy, it’s poorly saturated with unnecessary references to psychoanalysis, philosophy, neuroscience and all that. Enjoy. 

UNTIL THE STARS COME DOWN

Discord

Dissonance 

Screaming lullabies 

Punch and kick

Green

Purple

Brown Goodbyes.

Midas more

Golden Black 

The Lacanian abyss 

Bearing these supernova sacks

Let’s have some more.

She swings from the  Event Horizon

Vertically

 Kitschy sycophancy

And collective infancy (of the hedge funders)  

Thinking

about thinking

about thinking

about real emotion

Meta-layers of madness 

Across a cognitive Kingdom 

>

The circumstance of brain drain 

Rhizomatic  and Emblematic 

Demystify every sign 

Multiplicity and  emphatic 

Until the heart ceases 

Eighths and quarters  benign

Remember  when you sought her 

Object Petit a

And found nothing but inky darkness?

>

Cosmic Justice

A grand jury of Stars watching 

Bearing this leering injustice with patience 

Until the Stars come down

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Mushroom Clouds (VIDEO)

Video

Verses can be found here

[Shameful quantity of typos amended]

I’ve taken the liberty of using and editing some Soviet H-bomb test footage found here as well as a quiet sampling of Joy Division’s “New Dawn Fades” (unintentionally ironic, yes?) for its atmospheric qualities in addition to a foreboding BBC transmission standby card.

The poem itself, is up to you.

Topography of the mind

I’ll leave this entirely to you. Note the upper-cases.

Topography of the Mind

Boat rides on a Midnight River

Lost on the particulars and the purgatorial

Fall resides on what we cannot deliver

 

The Hinterland; within and outside it

A cognitive exile

 

Growing in a grassroot Desert

Ploughing for many zealots

 

Eroding the fortitude

And the forted Citadels of the Unconscious too

 

In the mirror of the Factory line

Two odd arcs

Up through the Spine

A discordant harmony

Pushing parallel

Up and up

Toward their disconnected epiphanies

 

And it was almost harmonic

 

 

Almost meaningful

 

Now the factory is dead

It was organic after all

 

Cockroaches crawl triumphant.