The truth is

The truth is
your heart is as big as your fist.

The salmon’s a tin-foiled muscle
following the scent of truth
back to the breeding ground

and the swallow flies a trail of truth
across the gleaming sea
the glittering desert
to build a house of mud

and I just want a small truth
like a white pebble
in my pocket

but your lies
set bush fires
your lies
melt ice
your lies
break the world in two
your lies
are killing us

truth is a feather
on the tongue

a snowflake falls and melts
a million snowflakes
a million billion
form an avalanche

a starling
forms part of
a great moving shape

a fish
swings silver
in a sheltering shoal

and we are stronger together
standing against
your burning lies

Grace is hosting at dVerse tonight, and asks for protest poetry. I’m not sure this is one to shout at the barricades, but I am so sick of being lied to by politicians.

Protest song

The fat god squats
in the market-place
shitting out lies

and we feed him

more he says,
more

and we feed him

we feed him our hours

more he says
more

we feed him our sleep
we feed him our dreams
we feed him the swift-footed moments
of our children’s games

we feed him our children

more

we feed him meadows
bright with flowers
we feed him mountains
we feed him the river
shimmering with life
we feed him the sky

more

we feed him our souls
we feed him the elephant
the tiger the rhino
we feed him the eagle
the butterfly the bee
we feed him the sweet time
of holding a new-born
we feed him scurrying mice
we feed him the great singing whale
we feed him the ocean
we feed him the scent of bluebells
we feed him the taste of apples
tart in the mouth
we feed him our old ones

more

we feed
we feed

and the lie he tells us
is that he is real
and we swallow it
in our hunger
to feed

but we are still empty

more we say

more.

 

Sherry is manning (womanning?) the barricades at Earthweal this week, and asking for our poems of protest. I’m not even sure what I’m protesting against here – it’s too big. I started off with small specifics, but at the end of the day it’s the way the economy trumps people in too many western societies, and the way we have got caught up in this endless treadmill of consumerist crap to feed that economy. Covid-19 has thrown a lot of things into  very sharp relief for me. I won’t go into it here, but I’m interested to see what’s bubbling under.

 

Eagle – for dVerse

I’m all coffee-ed up. I’m so caffeined
I don’t know what to do with it.

I twittered, but you never read me,
I facebooked, but you never upped your thumb –
I’ve me-ed it in the corner for a long time, baby,
But now I’m us-ing down the middle of the street:

See that sky? I’m going to sun it –
See that road? I’m going to bloom it –

Because today I’m lipsticked
In the red fire of anger,
I’m booting in bare feet,
I’m loving, joying, dancing –

I’m so super, just watch me nova,
And when I spread my wings –
I eagle.

Watch me.

A poem of verbification for Lillian at dVerse. I was surprised at how many of the nouns I thought of have been verbified already. Language moves and grows and transforms itself in our mouths.