On the subject of Poems

Best Bargains »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under Poems

 

Sit perfectly still and be kissed



  while sunning yourself



    beside the heat of home-made screen



           this good news, the new year brings.



                Bargains by the dozen,



                    go out visit a crowd of mad gunmen





               haunting the aisles of exploding shopping malls.





As when in irrational mood



     they spray the car park with guns and food



everyone agrees shopping is ecstasy;





    with the wildness on every person’s lips



        that speaks direct.



                I don’t care, I got here first



         with mouth pursed, kneel,



  to hear a final word: a loaded quip.





       

        No fire or glamour, no words or hammer

just…………..



      What light is let into the empty brain ?



Is it heroin or cocaine? Or just nerve ending ?







    To pause, engage, kiss



              with this vast fix



      that we see across the sky in smiling lips.







Have I not free will to drive in, shop and kill ?







                                                To celebrate a

prosperous year for all fanatics



                                              and everyone else in any

kind of racket



                                          such as our friends in

government.



                                  There are lots of cameras around



                              with which to spy upon us.



                            It makes them smile



                      to see all that moody heat



                  chasing deals up and down the street.

A Rotting Sun »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under 2012,Poems

 

Observe the enthusiastic dead.

            Observe them.

      A carriage of them we will make

and fill their steady, boys, steady,

         with steady state.

The bodies we will make.

We tend to speculate

             on what they might have said

                         about their rotting.

                        Neither will the bugle wake them

              As the rotting sun is set

on that long day to say good-bye to all that’s good.

It’s… The Government… Stupid »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under 2012,Poems

 

As we crossed a trackless plain

   directed by camera –

our only record

as we crossed a trackless plain

      directed by camera:

            repeated.

A cluster of legs accelerated

   numbers heated by bodies

heated by bodies

ready for the quick stamp panic attack

               of gas attack.

Repeated and played and watched

by men and women tracking us

   senior officials with senior and sensitive facts

about our lives and loves

   repeating to themselves

it was good for us to be watched

   and after the attack to conclude

there were now less of us to track.

Mykindatown »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under 2012,Poems

 

Blessings on Monaco
                And all its palaces –

Particularly the one I live in

                Covered in bougainvillea.

Or the yacht I forgot to mention
                                                  Abacus 1,2,3.

Or a matter not unconnected,
                The boiling of the sea.

Jerusalem New Town »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under 2012,Poems

 

         
                   
  (from William Blake)

And did those words in City speak
   not quite mean what they said?
And was this secret place still England
   now it’s owned by global inc?

And did the governor, a touch laconic,
   look like King Canute and slightly comic.
To put us on our mettle;
   We, who are the face of  battle.

Bring me my bonus of burning zeros!
   Bring me a nod from my manager!
Bring a decent appraisal, o career unfold!
   Bring me a car with two steering wheels!

I shall continue to make a million
   and control the price of oil per gallon,
while we build a new Jerusalem
   where money is without limit.

City Sonnet »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2012.


Filed under 2012,Poems

 

       
                 
      (from William Shakespeare)

Shall I compare an option to a future?
The thought of all that money is lovely.
Markets are volatile – alleluia.
Wow, the contract has a month longer
And the market’s gone loco.
Hey, it could be an opportunity (in such confusion).
As once in a while you get this kind of thing –
To go away in May and come back in September,
Overpowering us happy few with a price
Nobody can remember.
I guess we couldn’t believe it –
The vanity of the forbidden City.
For as long as someone’s able and willing,
There’s always a chance to make a killing.

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