Copyright jim ferguson 2017

2 political poems -

jim ferguson

night vision goggles

 

with the

junk culture

of the u.s.a.

tattooed on our eyes

 

we forgot

our own stories

retaining

only those

that could

be sold

for hard-currency

 

in order

to feed

our dismal

new habit

 

*

 

with the

pious texts

of the worlds’ religions

inscribed on our eyes

 

we became

rapists and

forgot all about

the equality

of women

the humanity

of our mothers’

breasts

 

*

 

with our

eyes sewn

shut with thread woven from

female pubic hair

 

we became

men with

the paltry minds

of fighting cocks

 

dancing to tunes

from an unknown

universe

we pecked-out

each others

little-nut-like

brains

 

*

 

blinded

by

the

white-noise

from a billion

tv screens

 

we imagined

beautiful

the prison

doors which

barred our vision

 

and though

we could see

very closely

every detail

as under

a powerful

microscope

 

we no longer saw

that our minds

had become

ugly

 

nor

 

that our

new habit

did not fit

 

the place

where

conscience

once lived

 

had become

a gigantic

 

edifice

of betrayal

 

No Masters of the Universe

 

 

Here comes the stance

The assumed stance

Fuck me, the arrogance of it all

About to tell us who

And how

Who/how

Come they are

Who they are and

Apparently – while wearing very

Dapper and expensive apparel,

Shoes so so rigid theycrush

Any love they might have had

Remaining just there in their feet

These are  - - -  YES

These the folk who proclaim themselves

‘Masters of the Universe’

 

When any fool with wisdom wise knows

The Universe has no masters  .  but  .  is otherwise

Driven by its own serene and bleak internal logic

And only in freedom and love can we enter here,

With nature.

 

and bishops

and bankers

and business men

and partisan politicians

and patrons of the arts

and royal personages

      all

tumble

the same as every one else in the universe

while the universe rolls masterless, to and fro,

to equal dignity for all

and many a selfish bastard

             

          falls

                      off

                                the edge

art of art of