No One Listens To Poetry (Last Poem)

Following a broadly nihilistic, Pinteresque poem entitled ‘Vacancy (Inevitable Paradox)’ though I can’t post here (or anywhere) due to Foyles Young Poet submission rules, in which I deconstructed (or at least attempted to) the underlying emotional aspirations of the poet to insufficiently allude to the feelings that inspired the work through the inherent flaws of poetry and perhaps language itself (Wittgensteinian, almost?). Furthermore, that the ‘border between life and art must be erased’ as Ben Lerner cites in the video below, ‘that the only meaningful poetic gesture would be to get rid of poetry altogether.’ Admittedly he describes this lofty (or not?) sentiment more far more eloquently (hence quotes) and, although this is no excuse I’m currently mentally purged, ravaged from exhaustion.

This video from Ben Lerner speaking at the University of Chicago greatly coloured my current state of mind, though not entirely:

I just want to write something. Something else. That’s all. And perhaps these ennui-ridden ideological-ish reasons only serve to cement such a feeling. This poem, if I can still call it that, or effort ultimately puts the nail in the coffin. No more poetry for me.

I’m not looking for the scale of my ambition to match the scale of my notoriety, because, there is none here. Honest. I want out.


No One Listens to Poetry


Fear is a prison

Can’t write prose

Can’t be with those

That I adore

So I’ll write some more?

No one listens to poetry


Escape like canary

As I explode the mine shaft

May these words find you

Humble as they are?

No one listens to poetry-



And the street sweeper called Jeff-

No one listens to poetry.


Unaccounted countenance-

Faceless faces at the station

Only one remains

(And it’s not mine)



Is resolution facile-

Poetry is a failure?

A windy, tumultuous day-

leafs the pages of the notebook.

Nobody listens to poetry.


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. 




Screaming lullabies 

Punch and kick



Brown Goodbyes.

Midas more

Golden Black 

The Lacanian abyss 

Bearing these supernova sacks

Let’s have some more.

She swings from the  Event Horizon


 Kitschy sycophancy

And collective infancy (of the hedge funders)  


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