Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Always the optimist

Everything works out
in the end
that’s what we
have death for

Seven billion people
trying to cook
breakfast on a
solitary stove

Seven billion people
hoping to quench
their thirst from
a single glass

Seven billion people
huddled around
a wood fire
trying to keep warm

Seven billion people
crammed into a
jet plane in
search of pleasure

Seven billion people
…it all works
out in the end

…that’s what we
have death for

© Harry Rout 2016

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

We are our monsters (For Kylie)


within the labyrinth
of our minds
Ariadne's thread
ties itself in knots
with no way out

our Theseus forever
trapped in darkness
while lurking around
every corner
the Minotaur waits

in every reflection
our Medusa hides
and our petrified
Perseus cowers in fear
knowing no escape


© Harry Rout 2016


Monday, November 14, 2016

Electrified

So much energy
in the air
it's never ending

It invades
all our private spaces
like a cancer
that refuses
any form of healing

Electrified!

All these words
& images
piercing every pore
of our skin
probing
prodding
corrupting
all our nerve endings
leaving our souls
empty & numb

Electrified!

So many batteries
charging the atmosphere
with messages
of madness

Electrified!

Another word
for crucifixion
but without any
hope of resurrection

Electrified!


2016 Harry Rout

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

I love the song

in the darkness
you struggle
to find that crack
where the light
can get in

I love the song
Leonard
a true anthem
to hope
& happiness

but sometimes
that tiny crack
is buried so
deep beneath
all the pain
that no light
manages to escape

...but I do
love the song
Leonard


© Harry Rout 2016

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Nightmare of Moloch (for Allen)

Here it comes
Another voice
Amongst the voices
That echo
In our minds
With
Mental traps
That blast
Bullets
Tipped with fear
Deep into our
Sacred spaces
While
All us Poets
Howl like
Ginsberg
Warning that
The best souls
Are being
Destroyed
By madness


© Harry Rout 2016

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Popping acid with Jesus

we both stared
at the scars
on his wrists…

we both watched
the nails
as they were
hammered
into his soul

we both saw
the blood
spray the crowd
gathered at his feet

we both pleaded
for God’s
love and mercy

we both listened
to the silence
that filled
the heavens
in reply

we both sighed…

why hath thou
forsaken us?

then…
we both saw
Mary take off
her robe
and beckon us
back to bed

Monday, August 8, 2016

Beyond good and evil (for Nietzsche)

Like rusting leaves
Upon sacred ground
Love rests bleeding
In the hearts
Of the lost
And found

Love burnt
At the stake
Of anger and hate
Engulfed in flames
Of persecution
And pain

One by one
All the meanings
Become meaningless
And all the figurines
Of flesh and blood
Finally break free
From their holy books
And flee from
From the clutches of truth


© Harry Rout 2016

The death of green

From the trees
The screams
Echo through
The universe
And
The axe
Of time
Hacks at the sun
With ticking
Strokes
Chopping
At the heart
Of all this

…all this


© Harry Rout 2016

Sunday, July 24, 2016

The greatest show on Earth

on bent
broken knees
we creep
&
crawl
in the shadow
of our gods
&
politicians
with their promises
of greater days

while
their empty words
fertilize
our silly hopes
&
fears
with hate
&
bullshit

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Just another poem (for Mr Leonard Cohen)

between
the lines of
a poem
a little truth
is squeezed

a word
or two
that may or
may not
unshackle
the stars
&
create a minor
disturbance
in the heavens

between
the lines of
a poem
you may find
a hungry
child

a woman
broken by love

a man
broken by hate

between
the lines of
a poem
you’ll find
wars
racism
&
fear

between
the lines of
a poem
you’ll find
forgiveness
&
resurrection

Notes from a nihilist #7

puddles of hope
in the pouring rain

raining with the poor

pouring the poor
into puddles of hope

forever swimming
in a circular
direction
of eternal
recurrence

forever
forever
forever the same

yesterday
today
tomorrow

always

the same




Ring a ring a rosy (For Rain)

tight
in her tiny hand
she holds
a smile
&
a little laughter

…after
the explosion
her fragile fingers
unfold
one
by one
into the chaos

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Nightmares in Suburbia

between
the bars of hope
so many
slip
&
slide
between the pain
&
suffering
&
the fractured
images of beauty

here they stand
on the corner
of optimism
&
pessimism
waiting patiently
for that
that
never comes

they stagger
&
stumble
as they navigate
some
false reality
in search of perfection

&
that silly
little white picket
fence