SHELF LIFE

•August 11, 2019 • Leave a Comment

SHELF LIFE

*

We broke in through the back door.

The House was dark

and filled with spider-webs & shadows.

Though abandoned for years

the clack-clack-clack

of the grandfather clock

inexplicably still filled

the otherwise silent hallway.

In the Stillness, the Dust had laid claim

to every horizontal plane and it was now long ago

that the First Dust had started to settle down

to raise a Family.

Though they covered their own tracks as they passed,

other pioneering families followed

in their footsteps

and soon a vast Housing Estate of Dust

spread far and wide.

On tables and shelves,

under cupboards and beds,

on every available surface

Suburbs of Dust arose,

serviced by Dust Shopping Precincts

and Industrial Zones,

Dust Civic Centres & Port Facilities.

Dust Transport Corridors

connected bustling Urban Hubs of Dust!

Teetering skyscrapers of Dust

towered in the Dust CBD

of a teeming Dust Metropolis ruling

an Empire of Dust that flowered before me,

annexing all before it

in a slow motion explosion

of expotential expansion,

an Economy of Inertia

powered by algorithms of Perpetual Growth..

“Ah! Where will it all end?”,

I asked rhetorically.

The empty house, of course,

made no reply,

but then, I already knew

the answer to that one anyway.

*

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet,

past President of the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism

AND the Church of the Universe.

It is whatever else it isn’t.

***

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I Only Came for the Cardboard Coffin

•August 4, 2019 • Leave a Comment

I Only Came for the Cardboard Coffin

*

I only came for a cardboard coffin

but when the Funeral Parlour

offered to turn my ashes

into a diamond,

I just couldn’t resist the temptation

of getting gigantic industrial machines

to bake & compress my carbon content

into a glittering, everlasting jewel.

How big a diamond, I asked?

They surveyed my scrawny form doubtfully.

Well, do you have a record-player

that needs a new stylus, they asked,

or a girlfriend who wears a nose-stud?

Though if you could put on a bit of weight,

and with the right setting, I think

we could make you a nice engagement ring.

I was a little disappointed, I admit, still,

depending on the Economics,

it could well become a Fashion or a Fad

and in time even Custom,

so that when our seedy, greedy Society

finally crumbles & collapses into dust

perhaps instead of fossils there’ll be

Deserts full of Diamonds of the Dead

left behind.

Oh Friends, can you see them?

Can you see how bright they’ll shine?

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire is..

etc.

***

we see the poet through other eyes (redux)

•July 28, 2019 • Leave a Comment

we see the poet thru other eyes

*

“You were in my dreams,” She said to me,

“You had long, beautiful, multi-coloured wings

but the ends were all tattered

and draggled sadly behind you in the dust.”

“You’re a very perceptive young woman,”

I told her.

*

He said, “I dreamed I went to your house

and there was this big Party going on.

More and more people kept pouring in

and I was worried we’d run out of everything

but you had this magical, extendable table,

that you could pull out to an infinite length

and it would be laden once again

with food, and drink and drugs.”

“Yeah,” I said, “That sounds like me.”

*

“I dreamed you set yourself on fire,” He told me,

still somewhat disturbed by what he’d seen.

“But you just laughed and danced

and sang as you burned,

and you called out to me,

“Come on ..Try it! It doesn’t hurt at all!”

The dream then apparently faded to black

with the appalled Dreamer, frozen with fear,

watching helplessly

the Poet in flames,

dancing to the last.

*

 ***

***

The Reverend Hellfire supports this Event.

Image may contain: 1 person

***

The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

former President of the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity Inc.,

and an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism and the Church of the Universe.

Or so the Legend has it.

***

A Guide to Pandemonium

•July 21, 2019 • Leave a Comment

A Guide to Pandemonium

*

We welcome you to the City

of Pandemonium,

where Rogue Polyglots

roam the streets,

speaking in a babble

of Archaic Tongues,

raising Dead Languages

like Lazarus from the grave

on every corner.

Here Language Hackers

& Feral Futurists

alter the street signs

to point to Destinations

that don’t yet exist,

just land cleared of the trees

on the edge of town,

the ‘Gated Communities

of Tomorrow‘,

arising like Atolls of Privilege

from a vast Sea of Poverty,

where the maids & gardeners

all “tok pidgin Missus”

amongst themselves

and return in the evening

to their homes in the city slums.

Here Displaced Dialects

(the war-orphans of dead Mother tongues)

fight it out

in the car-parks & back-alleys,

like teenage clockwork-orange gangs

struggling for “Turf”, Power & Prestige.

Occasionally lone words

will peel off from the pack

on their own trajectory

to seek a better career,

and will come to appear

in a new context,

on Football Fields,

Corporate Boardrooms & Rap Records.

Such Words may well become Fashionable

for a Season or two, taken up

by the Fast Crowd at first

but soon all the cool kids

are using them

and then their parents too.

Oh, it’s a winning combination

alright; Hip Jargon

laced with Street Credibility.

Yes, the pitter-patter of Patois

litters the Language

of even the Upper-Crust nowadays.

Accepted by Pandemonium’s High Society

the Words will quickly appear on Talk-Shows

and even Text-books.

*

Ultimately they outwear

their welcome, of course,

their Popularity wanes

and quite suddenly they have become

Unfashionable

and somehow slightly ridiculous.

Soon they are only spoken

as Affectation or Irony,

or heard occasionally in the ravings

of ancient park-bench Derelicts.

Hereafter they enter a moribund state

where they are only occasionally

woken from their hibernation

for brief revivals

in period-piece Costume Dramas.

The long Centuries pass.

Perhaps in Time Archaeologists

and Antiquarians will unearth traces

on Monuments & T-shirts,

unravelling ancient textiles

that crumbling tell the Tale,

in the Woof & Weave of Language

woven into a winding-sheet

or a Shroud, they come to be

venerated as Sacred Text

by the illiterate peasantry,

the Priests intone the Old Litanies

in the Forgotten Tongue

only the elders

and most learned of the Priests

now know the meaning they once held.

It is thus that the Buzz Words

that emerge in the Lingo of Pandemonium

proceed to their conclusion,

passing like Latin,

from the Literary

to the Litany,

and so complete their Journey

and Ours.

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performace Poet,

an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanists,

former President of the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity,

and has as much right to exist as any bug or flower.

***

REQUIEM FOR A SENSITIVE SOUL

•July 14, 2019 • Leave a Comment

REQUIEM

FOR A SENSITIVE SOUL

*

I hate being a Poet,

some days.

“Why me?” I wonder,

wallowing in self-pity.

But if I’m honest,

I have to admit to myself

that no other Profession

would have me.

I’m too ragged for the Respectable..

Too articulate to hang with Yobbos

and gob-smacked gits..

Too Strange for the Straight.

*

I have a ‘Good Heart’ of course,

but where does that get you?

The World is run by arseholes after all,

a ‘Good Heart’ will get you

exactly nowhere, except

maybe hanging from a lamp-post

somewhere

*

“Wasn’t he a nice chap”, they’ll say,

as they walk past your swinging feet.

*

Now, if I sound bitter,

it’s because I am.

*

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet,

an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanists,

Event Organiser at the Kurilpa Institute of Creativity Inc.,

and an experienced contract cleaner

available at reasonable rates.

Cash Only.

***

PROFIT MOTIVE

•July 7, 2019 • Leave a Comment

PROFIT MOTIVE

*

The Big Lie of Capitalism;

that we’re all moving up the escalator of Prosperity,

and that anyone can be Rich

thru their own hard work

and drive.

That being Wealthy doesn’t depend

on a Sea of Poverty on which

the Upper-crust can float.

(the scum always rises)

That being Rich does not depend

on a vast herd of Humanity

on which to fatten and feed

and a Planet to despoil & destroy

for an Economy built on Gluttony

& Greed.

That you can somehow be wealthy

without also being complicit

with the Violence & Oppression

that go hand in hand

with Prosperity

& making a Profit.

*

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet

and an ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism

AND the Church of the Universe.

Contract Cleaning also available. Affordable Rates.

Cash Only.

***

THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE AGAIN

•June 30, 2019 • Leave a Comment

THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE AGAIN

*

Looks down, looks away,

Doesn’t smile or say “Good Day!”

Never looks you in the eyes,

Unless you catch him by surprise.

*

Acts as though he’s better than,

The sort of Person that I am.

Acts as though his Shit don’t stink,

Or something else like that,

I think.

*

I don’t know what the problem is,

Or why he gets in such a tizz,

But now there’s nothing left to do,

except pretend he’s not there too.

*

***

***

***

The Reverend Hellfire..

Oh that silver tongued devil!

***