Posts tagged ‘pain’

14/05/2013

Hyperacusis (II)

 

Within the plastic twists and shifts

Of spectra split from screech to hum,

Unravelled sounds of empty rooms

Are splayed across our emerald selves.

 

The waterfall of pressure waves,

Cascading foam, neuronal sweeps,

Are rushed back through the feedback loops

And pour again with greater force.

 

The energy of the air unleashed,

And time again yet more release:

The sapphire bands, the ruby wreaths.

 

The vicious proof of life made raw,

Through light, through sound, through screams:

With at the end a gasping mind.

 

 

13/05/2013

Two Modes of Study

 

Precise amounts of manganese

Dissolved with hormones: scattered truths.

Across a desk a mound of facts,

A half constructed proof of tears.

 

The counted words, the research notes,

The Harvard Referenced quotes for weight,

The nights of struggle pushed aside,

The memories lost in paper balls.

 

Just here – this eye can tell it all –

Each gram of iron, each lonely year,

Ionic tales of grief and thought.

 

The study skips between two states,

But soon must fold back on its tracks,

Its solitudes and sufferings.

 

 

12/05/2013

Hyperacusis (I)

 

The opposite of deaf is deaf.

 

The screeching spines inside your head,

The spiral labyrinth of drills,

Igniting spikes of sound and pain.

 

The lances pierce your amygdala.

Your lizard mind lies whining back.

The neurone contours spit and flail.

 

The opposite of deaf is deaf

 

At night the echo pins are pricked

To vent the agonies of angels

Through the diamond points of scars.

 

And every slightest scratch sets off

A pulse of blood to silence words.

When deaf the noises never stop.

 

 

27/04/2013

Dawn Chorus

 

1.

The first of day, the last of night,

The woodcock and the lapwings meet

Beneath the blood-horn moon of spring:

A fold of wings in praise of bats.

 

The oystercatchers warn and reach

Inside the panicked twitch of deer.

They join the curlew’s howl of lust,

The curlew’s voice of bidden loss.

 

And soon the forest joins the moor

With wrens subsumed in bursts of wing,

Exhilaration on a feather’s barb,

The light which greets the point of flight.

 

An hour in life and all is raised:

The night time’s deaths, the morning’s birth.

 

2.

Avoiding death we sidestep life.

We miss the warbler’s beacon song,

The melodies of clouds on fire,

And trees which birth the passing days.

 

We cling to nights and hide in hopes,

Constructing tales of other worlds

Where fixities will fold our fears.

And shut away the shifting light,

 

And live these distant, searching lives.

The premonition sun will rise

Unseen. Unheard, the birds become

That larger world which we hide from.

 

Within us all is life and death,

A universe, a blackbird’s breath.

 

3.

The song is all, the forest one,

The neurones, pollen, twilight rings.

The trees connect, the eyes forget,

Ten thousand evanescent springs.

 

A chord beyond the reach of one,

Becomes the mantra of the one,

A unity to shed the night,

An ecstasy to greet the light.

 

A force as pure as air vibrates,

From blood, to throat, to bursting tongues,

Each song annihilates itself.

The forest sings, the birds succumb,

 

And I have ceased to cling to me:

The light is all there’ll ever be.

 

4.

And all this means the world to me,

But where are words to give it voice?

A ringing in the ears I shake,

The feet on leaves in dawning light.

 

The river glows with moons within,

The trout forget the bridge of day.

I walk and hear the passing dead:

The crumbling bank and martin’s nests.

 

A tree has lost its way this night.

Its branches bowed by sorrow’s time,

They point to earth, they brush the dust,

A chaffinch spills its mystery there.

 

I watch a redstart lose its mind:

Our eyes have met the pains of night.

 

 

For Steffen and Jo

19/01/2013

Painkiller

 

My screams are petals, leaves and buds,

Their blooms, I howl down from the stars,

In solitary flights they fade,

From treetops shed their seasons’ end.

 

I cannot say I do not fear

What lies beneath, what is so near.

I cannot hide, nor pass unseen,

Before these people I have been.

 

These eyes have held a mirrored sky,

Ensouled the air and stared through depths

Which others see and doubt no more:

These pains which come with beauty’s name.

 

Although I have no choice but this,

My screams are blossoms of my bliss.

 

 

14/05/2012

The Pride of Daedalus

 

Amongst the marble and the wax

I sketched geometries of traps,

Created endless loops and chains.

I calibrated depths of fear.

 

I devised a maze exquisitely formed,

A stone philosophy of pain,

So subtle none could ever leave,

Its boundless horrors measured in.

 

And deeper down the screaming rooms,

Would echo all the terror out.

The final sacrificial cries

Would fill the golden palace nights.

 

Its heart became a dancing ground:

A bloodied chorus stamped with death.