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Archive for the ‘Luke Prater’ Category

The Book of Jobs 1:21

May 18th, 2012 2 comments

 

 
 

And God created Jobs

(The Lord giveth,
the Lord taketh away).

Windows broken, adamant Steve
threw the Apple.

And He saw that it was good.
Really fucking good.

 

(RIP S.J. Feb 24, 1955 – Oct 5, 2011)

3 people like this post.

Dedication to all my Brothers and Sisters of the Aquarian Age

May 3rd, 2012 24 comments

 

 
 

Soya suckers
tofu tuckers
take yer curds
out my whey

yogurt truckers
fasmati buckers
organic turds
soil my clay

Goa-packers
free-love jackers
floorfeet lackers
scratch my board

compost sackers
tantric frackers
Osho yakkers
yank my cord

need a damn re-tox retreat
crack the keg n’ pass the meat

Namaste.

 
 

(I jest, of course. I love you all. Well, most of you :)

7 people like this post.

Stunted State Turf **(contains strong language)**

April 30th, 2012 22 comments

 


 
 
 

Dad was a racist cunt.

Not
that I minded the leather-faced bugger,
‘cept when the bigotry became a bludgeon.

From
a different age; his outrage at being thrust
into the midst of multicultural mélange

was audible two doors down.

 

Dad was a racist cunt.

but
he frowned on the National Front. “Neo-Nasties”,
“Hitler-Spawn” – we fought like buggery till dawn,

till
drawn and shit-knackered, shattered – and we still
can’t squeeze out the despicable spectre.

No,
Dad was for Red Constitution. Working-Man’s-Rights
kind (Brit Whites, mind); Trad Labour scrimp-n’-saver.

Toffs
as bad as the fookin’ Blacks and Pakis. Got yer back,
mate, if you save me a place n’ a pint n’ not a damn

word ’bout Third-World affairs.

 

Dad, the racist cunt, swims in my ink;

writing,
I hear the Professor’s mantra – Show, don’t tell – soft,
steady, in the ears of this arid mind, wooing monsoon.

Dad
thought he’d taught his son nowt about the merits of
bigotry; resting in rotting plywood a few feet beneath

stunted State turf, he’d shown him The World.

 

6 people like this post.

Latin Love Poem

April 25th, 2012 22 comments

 

 
 

Hic sum; es ibi.

Si in medio occurremus,
demergam, quia

alas non habeo tui.

 
 

basic translation:

I am here; you are there.

If we meet in between,
I drown, because

I do not have your wings.

 
 

elaboration:

I am here; you are there.

If we touch in between,
I follow the fate of a
thousand seafaring wraiths:

I do not have your wings.

 
 

Wanting to try two things out here – simplicity, and Latin. Which, it turns out, are not mutually exclusive.

Just for interest, the Latin for the more elaborate version looks something like this:

 
 
Hic sum; es ibi

si in medio tangèmus
fatum patiam idolorum
miliorum nautarum, quia

alas non habeo tui.
  
 
Much thanks to poet friend Francesco Vitellini for his help with the Latin.

8 people like this post.

the necessity of narcissism

April 21st, 2012 31 comments

 

geocentric chart


 
 
 

       x-centricity and the
necessity of narcissism -

            ptolemy was tripping
    the light beneath the right
mirrorball; how could he not?

it also revolves

        around

                 me.

science will utter
calculated untruths

recurringly.

 
 
 

Ptolemy was the foremost proponent of the hypothesis of a Geocentric Universe, where everything revolves around the Earth. (Irrelevantly to this poem, this was shattered by Copernicus/Galileo, much to the Catholic Church’s extreme disapproval).

9 people like this post.

Sprung

April 1st, 2012 45 comments

 

Spring Fertility Goddess Eostre/Ostara (Anglo-Pagan) - Johannes Gehrts, 1884

 
 

Burying the burden:
burgeoning garden,
urgent growth -
bud, resurgent shoot.

         That leering, searing orb,
         hung from the heavens,
         demands flesh be freed
         from burlier thread.

Sprung, nubile and fecund -

         the female form fresh
         to a naked eye.

 

10 people like this post.

Kneel

March 29th, 2012 14 comments

 

.

 
 
 

I have it -
            seething, rash;

delivered in blood, and
      that stuff we swim in

while foetal, still
      emotionally furtive.

Kneel in the knowing
      it only shackles the fetlock.

 
 
 

(Illustration: Etching from Marcus Gheeraerts’ 1567 fable Pride Comes Before a Fall)

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9 people like this post.

Blue Jaw

March 26th, 2012 21 comments

 

Chancellor George Osborne with The Budget neatly packed away


 
 

We are         (re)possessed by plastic;
                    by pedlars of ticky-tack
                    gimcrack gewgaw.

We are         warring trading floors,
                    warring with the desert
                    arm of the axis.

And you,       blue-blood
                    blue jaw-jaw dinosaur

remain          possessed by
                     Class War.

 
 

The Conservative Government of The United Kingdom, in their Annual Budget announcement of Wednesday 23 March, revealed they are cutting the rate of tax for the richest (those on incomes of £150,000+), and reducing age-related Pension benefits.

7 people like this post.

Firming the Feet

March 11th, 2012 33 comments

 

 
 

Ego dithers between stygian and lustre;
Pride is clearer-cut. Foolish, more so.

Let go, haste and callow -

let go the unsurrender
let go uneasy breath
let go the halting will
let go the stippled sex

fall by snaking rill
fall forwards up the rise
fall onto fallow clay
fall into boots your size

unsettled day
the female ken
the fettled slump
dissimilar men

The Sun heaves sap and
limb skyward, grass and sod

firming the feet.

 

19 people like this post.

Dirt of the Doyen (Bad News Pt II)

March 10th, 2012 12 comments

 

 
 

Watch Murdoch Junior jump from the kitchen.
The scandal, instead of slipping,
surges like blood-pressure of
the doyen McDonald’s masticator.

A nasty carmine enriches dirt on
the hands, glooping a sullied syrup -
‘Murdoch’ a little too much like ‘murder’
(as in ‘getting away with’).

The Father, The Sun, the Wholly Toast.
Well, almost. We won’t be happy until
Sun is ripped from Sky, and Fox
is hounded into a hunter’s barrel.

Er, Amen.

 
 

James Murdoch, son and heir to the mighty News Corp media empire currently run by his father Rupert (which includes the Fox Network), has stepped down as top dog of the corporation’s European arm in the wake of the phone-hacking scandal of last Summer that is only intensifying as an official report, which will almost certainly be damning, is imminent, and further trouble in the form of The Sun newspaper revealed as rife with high-level bribery and corruption. The Sun is under threat, as The News of the World was, and likewise Murdoch’s share in British Sky Broadcasting (BSkyB), which, just before the scandal broke out, they were making an aggressive play for majority share in. As Murdoch Junior retreats to New York a token third-in-command, News Corp sways on unsteady foundations. How they manage to keep The Times and The Sunday Times upstanding, quality papers is beyond me.

Bad News (Pt I) relates to the News of the World closure, which was the best news I’d heard in a long time. This could be even better.

 

6 people like this post.