On the subject of 2020

Wall Street »

B.H. Fraser

November 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,Poems

 

1.

Your ears, your face,

all soon will be blessed with giant squid.

A vampire in sucking cup,

eight arms and tentacles full of blood.

About being mounted on a stalk,

the suctions, when they get you, almost talk.

In circumference lined with hellish teeth,

the mouth strange parrot-like, something of a leech.

 

2.

Guard your home against this tick,

It does not share your bread for all to benefit.

A big sponge in the deep,

our squid communes with government

to tell us what to think.

Getting the all clear at Gwennap Head: August 2020 »

B.H. Fraser

October 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,Poems

 

    Not from a Cove or Ovid

There came the news from Cornwall,

   But infernal Covid

That life was almost normal

Drone »

B.H. Fraser

September 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,Poems

 

Travelling in shadow

 

with message ready

 

to unleash

 

the chaos of hell: a battlefield.

Every word explosive,

all sides tremble.

 

Man, you wouldn’t believe it,

 

we jumped off, super tourist,

(staying seated naturally)

with a switch to

 

voices of

 

“Incoming!”

 

How friendly.

 

With noise intimate,

A hissing song

a tremble

of text.

 

 

A bloody snap of paper

(Attention!  Postcard!)

As butcher bird appears

 

directed

With something

much more personal.

“Contact” –

 

licked clean, perfect

 

by the blast.

A pause.

 

Execution perfect

 

in the high altitude of killing

 

only the “wish you were here” missing.

For an extra twenty »

B.H. Fraser

August 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,Poems

 

At the harvest fellowship,

We believe in one vision, a holy, most almighty, GIVER OF THINGS.

FOR AN EXTRA TWENTY WE BELIEVE IN ANYTHING

IT’S OUR KIND OF THING

BEING A Maker of money,

Our kind of salvation by the power of television. Hallelujah.

So make money.

I guess this preacher JUST got blessed and became famous. AMEN. HALLELUJAH.

And our kingdom shall have no end.

Did I tell you about the profits we’re making?

You gotta believe but keep it tight with the insurance.

I shall probably get crucified but that adds to the premium.

And my kingdom shall have no end.

Believe in me as the giver of heaven

Who CAN pull them in.

I believe NOW I HAVE SPOKEN YOU CAN KILL YOUR NEIGHBOUR.

Troop Withdrawal »

B.H. Fraser

July 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,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.

An Astronaut Disconnects »

B.H. Fraser

June 1st, 2020.


Filed under 2020,Poems

 

on a high walk communicating

like i was and ever shall be original

without fault both intimate and numerate

 

to all the above to sing of where i live

in pure autonomy the moon bid me unlink

 

to see a ‘dans maen’ of merry maidens

are the stars talking in my voice

i remember lying in the grass at home

and what the stars first gave me was eternity

as my pulse raced the image darkened

 

 

and i floated away into infinity

 

 

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