...and more fragment BBQ

Frayed at the edges narrative which go nowhere;  there are tables left vacant, as time passes. Unusual traumas and lost at a young age suggest a frayed to the breaking point narrative image. The lost positioned by HIV/AIDS still remains to be wrapped up,  if it may ever be, living in chronic fatigue.




an age of neuralgia and nostalgia, and grey
sitting by camellias pink in flower, a garden
for which you no longer can care, delay is
all that happens now, way pass an age where

if it comes to that, goodbye is enough, no
we do not have bad regrets, my funeral I do
not care, that is up to you still alive who
can still decide and have it continue toward

for sure that which we not yet know, can we
think again if the choices are against life
when such dice throws may shut down to zero
so we alive may hide in under ground shelters

what is to be good for techno cyber-mechanical
underground complex linked hidden bunkers of
a failing master nationality is ongoing wars
of type and sorts appearing as minor squabbles

past times contractors did their cybernetics
and arguments went so far and ends with easy
this is new ways we are going to have it done
supplying novel little wars across geographics

it is sending most secret messages, such that
admittance of communication cannot be known
yet the secret must be known or risk a leak
into green cyber swamp ocean swilling across

lines on tidal water edges to land definitions
and secrets in a bottle may wash up on shore
but who is there who opens and carefully reads
messages obscure belonging to some other time

paper printed charts way out of date, getting
lost at sea like lost in endless sand deserts
and quiet back in the garden smelling roses
and more flowers, thousands of flowers bloom

PTSD for BBQ

...some more BBQ  drafts...




from, post-traumatic stress disorder
there's that word again, it was need
a decade in a job killing thousands
computer desktop running ms os

and make enough to retire for life
expecting an early demise, spend
big, over indulge with drink and drugs
clashes between police and protesters

and the government did not back down
he wiped a few thousand out, on his
desktop machine running ms os, too
neat, he watched all die in pixels

like his own fellow citizens, can he
ever come over this cold sharp erasure
it was the delete key that did them in
he was taught to get hard and orgasm

masculine sexual response, on a video
 where death and porn come together
and it is not supposed as such as real
just a desk job, in the armed services

while running for political office, open
a campaign fund bank account, let funds
flow in from donating wealthy sponsors
and run  quickly away disappearing face

transfer gold to some secret vault lost
while sailing way off shore and no beacon
request for care until too late rescue now
not possible and it must have all gone down

gold sinks quickly into a deep blue ocean
and the bid for election still floats on
water drifting out there, now Arctic ice
seeding another melting iceberg to sink

an un-expecting heavy iron ship, ripped
apart by government policies and a nation's
most top political journalist wrap it up
this to be human in up-turned and strife

death at sea, more BBQ fragment

dying at sea in the middle of the night

through infra red binoculars i watch
as sharks rip off both his legs warm
infra red blood fades to black, then
away with his life, dear he was to me
you chose to sail with me, he could not
live, he knew too much of who i am

a cold killer, danger to get too close
i should have said beware, would this
then be true, would this requiem need
be written in this secretive manner

some more fragment BBQ

Some fragment of filial narrative...




slotted into lower middle class
          working class to be true

bigots hide behind
           invented gods

gods                human inventions
what claims are made in their names

impossible to believe
          faith          so lost

there is a lost kid         he is my son
he fears faggot             in the locker room
high school sports day            the word that is
         and he don't know        what it is he feels
just fear        anguish trauma          no shame

he's not permitted shame            that most
adolescent of emotions              shame being a kid
         seek shame              so at least
he can say             human again

...and some boyfriend talk for Barbecue

This below fragment is almost close to a first draft, or as close as a text editor will allow. From here it is going to have to find a way of fitting in with the rest of the narrative, like a new kid in school. BBQ is now looking like a book length long poem and perhaps verse novel in as much as the collage narrative is dialogic and novelistic and not the monologic form of lyric poetry (after Bakhtin's essays.) It is called boyfriend talk just so a directory full of txt files can be sorted. Poem titles are going to be deleted so BBQ is one long dialogic  poem.



Boyfriend talk

you're really hot in the sack
not able to guess his response
we could go all day and night
a hard day's night screwing
like bunnies making a plague

is a good time we are
he shops his lover like
a department store and
very rich no limit
magnetic card they
leave a doorman opening
doors into a big motor
car like we did at
all times like yes

who is to get over there
first and make all grades
top shelf nothing less have
standards we do none other
are you going to cry out
hard and loud the walls
are all soundproof none
will hear screams of love

except the lovers on a
bear skin rug in front
of an artificial gas fire
not providing any heat
central heating for that
and rooms are never cold
high up and streets below

we want to pick where to
go next blindfold with a
pin into a map that's it

a powerful sports car is
wasted in grid lock city
cars inching and stopping
yet he drives it still a
roaring 12 cylinder motor
empties a small fuel tank
to save weight very fast

a prime wealth display
an excuse for a car not
able to go anywhere
quick that walking is
quicker to get there
this is a scarlet high
power many layers of
hand applied paint car

he smiles to himself at
his boyfriend trying to
impress he is so cute
he would be better with
a two seater city commuter
hybrid or a driver with a big
brute of hard steel military
strength squashing any that
may seem begin to object
and other such fancy of love

the armed forces will bull
dose them through city
jams with new roads behind
a schedule of traffic growth
on paper computer projected
needs for the next 20 years

and he just wants to be with
his boyfriend now is that
too much an ask let traffic
splintering steel grind still
slow scream of colliding metal
and plastic cracking up glass
shatters safe in little cubes

Collage and cut up

...another draft poem for BBQ using cut up and collage of digital news feeds... like Burroughs cut ups get edited to fit in and be done from yr head, no need to cut up physically




meta data up

 indiscriminately

        extraordinary repudiation

 pretense of constraint

        particular  suspicion

                    does precisely that

the data base of war on spinning digital disk after spinning disk


extreme interpretation of law

            excessive domestic surveillance

suspected of being an agent
   
        terrorist group

    this hostile foreign state

    rights &    finite set of individual targets


and i let him shoot inside me & come with me

and i wore that itch he gave me

        inside for a month

            until antibiotics got things right


        sleep with a secret service officer

    swinging he says both ways

        & carry sexual filial infections

           
along with a sub machine gun pistol
       
            under their off the hook coat

            badly fitting

More BBQ drafts...

...again this works with diagonal links across pages which may be variously several pages apart and for want of a better term, collage narrative,  allowing narrative to emerge and thinking of getting rid of sentences as much as possible leaving clause chains...






a computer encrypted plastic
magnetic card opening door
the code being correct lets
       us in we may enter now
            every floor in this domestic
                  affair into matters of fact

burning ships sink in harbour
sailing does not have any faith
in a boat pitching and bending
       and men overboard are wrapped
             in arm's tender care hauled up
                   with lines to a rescue helicopter



 


a crack in time on every floor
of this palace a home cold drafts
get in through ice winter nights

running men naked doing things
follow like dogs on a short leash
and targets of weakness sent away

sweet fruits butter mock cream
between layers of a sponge cake    
and after fresh butcher red meat

eyes behind dark sun glasses
do not give away heavy stares
of lust for naked male forms

a palace of lust is icy cold
like the lower ranks of hell
and keeping warm is a delight

body against body against body
multiple sexual partners' place
in drawing rooms with cigars

males pull in close together
and contact is made lip to lip
boys have cake and eat it too

proteins artificially made food
for a growing boy created flavours
to make it nice to eat face pulled

not nice is this artificial stuff
one must protest let there be food
one may swallow without distaste






your heart of gold cannot fight you
are better known then your manifest
so may one recreate your fool's gold

yet again again and there is more
with a hot metaphysical being innate
nature crossing real states of affairs

and a purple head slips inside warmth
a strange hollow and empty feeling now
can we be friends again with benefits

how many comes can you do in one night
soft fluffy warm wool on naked flesh
and cold into wilderness an exile

being some kid without any talent
a strong discipline is needed in reply
knocking us off our feet before we flee

are there more tricks up your sleeves
hidden secrets known to be in there
can it be said looking for a way out

and stretch the skin around his balls
hanging loose in hot tropical days
sweat pours from his leaky body

should my kiss for him be shared
my slim waist soft skin teen body
is not so alien and strange as what

what can I say a mystery is made
in these days of my immature youth
my loves letting me down betrayed