Better, a poem never finished

For better it is to try
than let our dreams
fail softly, die.

S's

Sceptred sickness snakes sunward -
Seeing, singled, starshorn
Singing sweet softly:
Snickering surmounts
Sundreamers slow stop.

Flu

The long march, to
exhaustion, from health,
a battle we can never win.
Each soldier a carrier,
each weapon a blade, loss
in the war against sickness.
Falling into death we
light fires in the caverns
of our souls, but fire
consumes never enough.

Cyborg Porn VR Poems

          .i

Sex with void forms, bodiless movement
Neural nets decoding virii emoticons.
We cannot write code for souls.
Forms without form, mechanic motion
Bits and bytes and ram --
Nothing real:  not me
                          not you.
Data read, written, exchanged; was
                          it good for you too?


          .ii

This is not love, you
Me, all we did was make
A hybrid of ourselves.

Love is learning to let you;
Never holding on
All I can offer.


          .iii

We keep sharing
                   each other
         but
                   remain strangers.
I don't know what this is,
                   there is
         here a
                   wealth of empty promises
.
Hiding behind avatars we are
         gods and sinners
                   beautiful lovers
         made more than
Hacked together codes.

Enough?

That today is enough,
Can be enough ---
If today is enough that
Is miracle enough.
Too, that today
Is not yesterday
And the gift of tomorrow
Is to be different than both.
Surely it's enough?

After Closing Time

Museum become one --
Particle board bones
Dust flakes decorating the air
Cobweb consecration,
and dead water, conservation
of moulded books.

To A Famous Poet

Remembers I, tear-jerked stung
First time I wanted to hurt someyou,
Late to the party bringing with
A Hallmark, too damn lazy
To spare of yourself, and make
Him, dying, even one memory
Of you to call his own. Bastard.

Light

Morning comes, and we wonder who we've been.
Another night of lost memories waking to false dawn.
If we could only know, if we could only see
Look down on you and me, eyes and thunder in the skies:
Another cheap light show they say and we say: "Hey!"
Loud as we can be: "Our gods a pretty swell guy."

Evening comes, brining night and promising sins
Saying it'll be all right, a brothel is an inn.
If we could only try it might be safe to cry
But the god can always see, knowing when we lie
And their cheap delights don't mask an STD or three.
We know it can't be right but we're so very lonely.
Judgement comes tonight and I wonder who we've been
And pray our god's sight won't look too far within.

New Gods

Johnnies come late, domesticated
Offers of forgiveness incense scented
Prayers of forgetfulness uttered, begging
Never quite out-remembering blood and
Sacrifices, the terror of the gods tamed
But never owned, nor castrated.

Fragment

Through bars we've left behind
Of a cage too well designed
Trapped - in silence resigned
To this last, in being kind.