|
Translation Zone |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||
 |
 |
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Read Cyrus Issac’s new explosive poem ‘Hong Kong Reckoning’ in his new poetry collection ‘Visions of Things to Come’. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Postal Services Available: You can now order from Cyrus or his agency the following terrific services by post: |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
The Age of Kali What resides in this century but the horror? |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Postcards most welcome! Cyrus Issac is an avid Postcard collector and adores receiving postcards from around the world. If you post a postcard to Cyrus Issac he shall personally thank you officially on this website. For address details please: |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||
|
|
Computoid |
|
|
|
“Read the burning roads of tar by the shallow winds……………….”
TRANSMISSION BEGINS:
Computoid
.INTERNET suckled the milk of electrical impulse, A language borne from the purest analytical gene, Gimlet eyes plastering the opaque symmetrical scene. Laboratories serried like neat sentries lay upon the bed- rocks of the humanist Geist, Corporate unity where the idiosyncratic wallowed in the carrion box. A United world came to be, Insouciant units connected to the omnipresent Line, Prostrate cocoons blithely sponging Time.
Gregorian chants once again chorused in the Western ennui; But no Spires reached for the celestial bliss, Just the intermittent impulse running as the blood of Mammon, Tendering the very cells of Consciousness. One could be anything: The Ape, Lover, Doctor, Maestro of all human endeavour and even the killing life giving Sun of Day. The IMPOSSIBLE was expunged from the Language, As the Fairy-tale frog was kissed by the Cyber Princess.
The rioted Souls blandished the forgiveness ethic to the unordered imbeciles, Atonement by the secular path contrived by the Microprocessor brains; One was contained as a plump ripe pet in a cage, Pupils constrained by leery telepathic auspices: The Police the Judge the People, The corrupt gates of Liberty open to the Earthly Computoids.
Intravenous injections embellished the thinking senses, Mindfills ingested with the unfettered Universe, Decisions ridden with Doubt like hapless sheep of waxing night. Sights, sounds, words upon the heart and diamond clarets, Messages from forth the untouchable Network, Quavers on the scored malodorous communicator: A Crucible for the labyrinthine journeyman whose purpose is the insatiable emptiness.
Man, Woman, Child everything but the Wild, Seated audiences to the Neuronic Cinema, Encyclopaedic seminars under staircase passages, Credit unions exchanging benefits and accomplishments in the Brave New Information Age. Wondrous new cities of abstraction grew from the pits of the Beasts, Falling Angels constructing the populous Will, Inorganic evolutions furthering their furrows ever towards the twilight zones, Hybrid creations between the bat and corpulent pigmy.
Still as the pools of Europa, The innate predator hastened the intuitive Fear: Swathes of Lacuna cratering the optimistic prognosis, Paranoia- the benighted modus viviendi dialled upon the Souls of the Night. What world was there to talk when the very selves were cloned into the amorphous material?
A rising dynamic biological entity, The new prototype for the proceeding thousand years (if there is to be!); Homo-Sapien emasculated with an Interface, A Being of self-will and expurgated wakefulness. Thus it passed into the brooding turmoil, A Scarecrow wading through the craven sanguine streets………
******************
County Sloan
Golden Meadows How it is to be another Man, In England’s mined fields, The fields of County Sloan.
Can you hear the air groan, Barley harvests a glow, Melancholy towns of County Sloan.
So the Circus has gone, And everything is a paler shade of grey, Mrs Sanderson abruptly left today.
Do you know what yesterday was? Do you know what today is? Do you know what tomorrow will be?
****************** Into the Light
There is nothing in life, But everything, Our universal strife, Ambiguous craving, Thrusting a blunted knife, Into the blackened voided thing, A golden ship aimlessly searching.
******************
Final Warning
War approaches fast on this November date, I think History may about to unleash the Script of Fate; Must hide my head under the mat.
The Monitor blinks baldly: 500 square miles – Estimated damage 83.7% Collateral damage- Minimal Conclusion- Mission satisfactory.
Read a book after the late news, Something about Ziggurats and the first written laws; Like to take a trip there one day.
END. 23.45.03…….. ******************
Consumption
Report at 3.13.23 am.
Ribaldry in kitchen sink, Fermenting bleach anaesthetising tunnels and bellicose tongues, Roly-Poly’s fandangoing glitterata muse, Amuse the wafting catholic bodhi incense, Turbid transparency congealing upon vagabond abodes:
The Unpardonable sin of FILTH whose verdigris envelopes the virtuous onus.
Wraith like, their fettered dreams aspire, Gods and Goddesses of Olympic stature, Bards of mirthless capitalist avarice, Topaz vales they grimace like the LOCUSTS of the Nile; A sponge like plague of compelling possessiveness, Soaking in the desirable flirtatious attributes, Maligning disdaining the degenerative.
They the species of molly-coddle, Laconic raconteur, defined sterilitic taste, Polemicists of a lifeless soapy Universe, Cellular cosmetic bubbles ordained as the particularist medicine.
The bearer of this PRODUCTIONIST landscaped cleanliness, Its’ perfectionist Birthday gifts regaling amongst the Hybrid pigeons; The philosophy of Humanist Love, The Love of LINEAR SWEETNESS, One whose Honey sours the FEASTED harvest. END: 3.16.09 am. ****************** Upon Craven Hill
NAME: Pillerton Priors
I. D : 014387 / 154
STATUS : Diseased Poet
OBJECTIVE: Resurrection
ANALYSIS OF OBJECTIVE: ‘ RESURRECTION ‘ UNDEFINABLE. NEED INCREASED DATABASE. WHAT IS RESURRECTION ?
# 014387 / 154 : END. ******************
Ship in the Bottle
It groped for the Manipulators, Ethereal wands transmuting from one substance to another, Midnight tokens to the numinous Consciousness.
How implacable it was across the rainbow millenniums, To exorcise its’ visceral bane, Rising above the vertiginous fractious plinth to the Halcyon Seasons where Sentient Beings understood: An impeccable unimpeachable hallowed Temple, Never profane never inane, A Sanctum in which one could sit and watch the Plays of Life in Motion. ******************
Lies and Hills
Lie once and Lie Forever, A ball rolls down the Hill, Forever rolling Down Down Down; And as it continues Down Down Down the Hill, A New Life is Born Down Down Down the Hill; It speaks a Language Indifferent Iniquitous Incorrigible, It lives in the Craven Forest where Souls are sacrificed on the Purgatory Pyre, And Succumbs to the Howling Lie Down Down Down the Hill. ****************** Decree Nisi
: Computer- How may I end this relationship?
***: Terminate Present Contract.
SANCTITY: an anachronistic word for the modern citizen. He she it, Numbers and letters of Algebra, Formulaic answers to the affront they abode; Faithless catechisms counselling the Inconstant Wanderers, Teaching the Spurious Manuals of Psychotic Infidelity, Beseeching the imponderables of Fickle Love, Love Love unsullied divineless Love.
Such Shadows of Broken people have I witnessed, Languorous Ice People fading away down the Electrical Streets, Faces wrought of Stone, Eroding into the Sands of Strife, Resigned to the Unsaid Decree Nisi. ******************
Video Nasty
The ambient hiatus of Christmas hung in the torrid blizzards, Frost bitten jowls mourning amid the maundering muddles; Bitter nylon clad sinews expiring vitriolic sighs, Muffin hands unveiling the Corporatist Plot.
The sleuthian Eye watched a forth, The Iris of the Bone-Breaker circling above the panoramic deserts, Circumnavigating the discreet travails and foibles of humanity; Living Almanacs chronicling the Once and There Afters, Looming penitentiaries and shameful faces hiding in twilight corners.
Ever present the Judge and Jury, The Councils of Nobody’s, The Indicting Video satiating the Computoids voracious for delight, Those whose Verdict had already been presumed and foretold by the Economic gurus. ******************
Houses of Narcissus
Inflections saddled the coiffure lakes, Ivory maidens pomerading along the paradise piers, Liquorice statues adulating the fettered arias, Sonorous bows jarring upon the lathered lizard tongues.
Dining rooms, foyers, sequestered annexes adorned with tapestries of multiple rococo mirrors; The glass seamstress knitting the eternal line of intolerable woe.
Blighted Narcissus possessing haunting the capital Houses, Ingratiating pills proffering the delectable palates to soothe the angst aways, To the idyll where maternal Purity cleanses the muddy sordid pools.
‘O’ how sweet the winds that whispered from the caverns of Nemesis. ******************
Chiller
I am the trespasser, The poacher of peoples’ Goodness, The smearer of bossed shields, The accomplice of scowling shadows.
I plough the ways in and out, Through and without, Pressing down pushing up, Shaking and driving the Devil’s Dagger.
I am the reproachable, The crusher of laudable skulls, The breather of snuffed candles, The mat of trodden expletives;
I am the CHILLER! The bearer of Foreboding!
******************
The Factory of Yuletide
Was it the day when Caesar ‘D’ arrived to place the big bad bag over my head?
Life is so different at the airing lap of dawn; The Green Giant just begins to awaken from arcane slumbers, A zephyr like kiss that redeems the midnight bridleways of existence.
And so on this auspicious date I shared the Pilgrim’s Quest, Burying my fettered mind in the monastic hooded Grace, A seer of unbounded fields and myriad corridors, A linguist of the howling wolves and tattering cockroaches, A telescopic vision in between the dusted edges and vertiginous crevasses, Skittish crags jotting the squalid peat basin.
Wither and thither the tap insects cloyed and colonised the ‘Mack’ country, Polystyrene figurines skating on the myopic commercial orbs, Hunting the cathartic empty objects for the disaffected wretches by the containing fences; A scintilla they knew of the problematic course, The blood of grey iron flowed by the hue and cry heart: The prophet had been laid to rest out of sight, Sunk in the dark forgettable Sea.
I plied the dank wastelands, Steam and petroleum pipes gesturing to the childhood Gods, A demarcated border between prosaic reality and the inevitability of Death, Gravestones addressing the modern faithless world.
I was the ‘Automaton’, The tool of the hand, The paddler of the engrossing Leviathan, The modeller of self-destruction.
The door opened……….another pang to endure……..the virus grows……..
Hope……if only the presence of hope…….are you the angel? ****************** Lonesome in extremis
“He must be a lonely man” they bolstered in the emporium of convenience.
Starlight dust twinkling upon the carcass containers, Muted dandelions petrified in their contrived manners, Long lines traversing the empty spaces, Gardens to spawn the dead wood Forest.
He packs the mouths and orifices, Programmes the self-destruction clause, Whistles the futile elegy, And stays for the Gates to Close. ******************
Electrocution
“Bzzzzzzzz” the She-Monster brawls, “Ahhhhhhh” the He-Monster mauls; Stills to the storyline sparks, Switches to the squawking Crows’ harks, Bitted bites ringing the organic circuits, Messages murmuring the pantry flirts, Brooding connections obsessing the boring tryst, Wells of wishing pouring in the waters of heist, Christ! DO TURN ON! ******************
Dram for the Damn
Dram for the Damn, The closet thespian in the Can.
The drake’s wattle the florid faces, Wrapping that perturbed mantle inlaid with guile, Chattering to the classless class, Fraying with the Elemental.
Does anyone say anything that means what it means? Feel what it feels? See what it actually sees?
Or are we dragons of the breathless vacuum? ******************
The Tenuous
Does one journey into the future knowing the omnipresence of the Coda: An Oak tree with umpteen flaying branches, each a caption of history, each overseered by the cosmic Axe.
Speciality, centrality, choseness, the pointedness of humanity, Words and hearts of truths we like to believe, Governors of our fortune like the moon rockets, An objective, an end to the Plan.
Then as we solace in the Mares of Tranquillity, Watching the incandescent suns fulminating the celestials, The Catastrophic Horseman fords the voided cascades, His ebony saddle laidened with the sacks of Baneful Providence. ****************** Consider this……
Progress, the tortoise of having; There it goes to the citadel on the hill, The insuperable aurora where no leper may cross, Only the shepherds who tender their flocks to the Waltzing Vale.
The Pan-Pipers’ supine lament, Poppy’s of opium blooming in the hubris hue, Pastiche silhouettes like the pails of sunshine oils, The dark jellies of metamorphoses barks, Reflecting their shallowness in the goldfish bowls.
A tenuous border of background and foreground, No joinery but the artist haplessly erasing the lines of demarcation; A Charnel House broods its tempestuous walls out beyond the Greys of Mankind, Soiling the starched linen lining the pockets of the Masterplan. ****************** Eve of 1999
The scrupulous one frets in its’ pocket, Out it bears to the concert halls the spangled transaction: The musings of Beethoven, The theatrics of Wagner, The poetics of Debussy, The visionaries of Dvozak, THE EUROPE OF AMITY.
Through the desolation and machinations, The CHILD OF UNITY sings tonight on the eve of 1999. ******************
The First Lesson
Will the bell toll when I am about to and not……? The revolving pillars, Entrances open and barred, Punting feet plunging and sticking, Like the infant yet to imitate the homosapien gait.
Is it that the first lesson is the last? One has no reprieve once the intent is done, The ROBOT is the sum!
A part of the equivocal, Distilled and amorphous on the lathed world, A pebble ground to the Mariner’s Rime. ******************
Afterglow
Stabat Mater laments by the eclipsing shadows, As starlight dawn breathes its’ coal-dust freshness, Like showers from a thundercloud regenerating the parched rivers.
Orbital balls as a game of the duelling Gods, Hurtling into the mists of Eternity, A fuddle of feyness and the muds of matter.
What artist beyond our wildest imaginations could create such flawless beauty? A Mystery never to resolve until the ends of our existence.
See Master Hubble where the Eye ruminates the Afterglow………….. ******************
Genome Contract
Frowning furrows gleaned their dugouts over senescent lands, A lander scrubbed as black as the coal bucket, Filled and emptied to stoke the Sentimental Hearth.
The golden cider apples fermenting at trenchant suppers, Voices shaking like railway sleepers forewarning the Coming;
But HOPE : that irrepressible SEED, Shelters the brimstone quietus inmates…….. ******************
Sonata in Bludgeon Minor
The guile sharks lay the egregious plot, Watchtowers mounting the striven Byzantine podiums, Tribal war paints embellishing the alienated scarecrows, Enraged faces turning to tears: God and Computer were but one, The Law and the Gun. ****************** Maverick (In dedication to the late and only Stanley Kubrick)
The recluse not fey sat in the castle today, His spectacles averting the mundane blobs, Sketches of the English fogs.
Meadows he jibed to dissipate at the stinking Belsen gates, Working hard the epistle of the abased State; A prophet an email in the vulgar Glitz:
Nay King, Nay Politician, Nay Thespian Fraud,
I But Kubrick the Audacious Lord……. ****************** The Seven Last Words
You the flaccid fief picking at the lines of grief, Swaddling thimbles abasing the vernal awakenings;
You the artifice whose ringings cantor the Flying Dutchman's siren, Rotund statesmen chuckling along the Via Delorossa;
You the sullied architects of the Brave New World, Da Vinci's of the micro universes, Plunders of the Instant Talk;
Worldly and Unworldly we Apply, Landscapes of myriad crimson Dawns, Blinded Eagles journeying to Fusion Stars, Dynasts of Glass Ghosts and Random Cells…….. ******************
On Her Majesty's Service
The Maker has been Made, The Sagacious Bard Played, The Cellotape admonishes the Eye of the Needle, The streetly Judge snips the Corrupt Scissors: Snip! Snip! SNIP! SNIP! ******************
Homicide: The Innocent Killer
They laughed at me, They laughed at me, They laughed at me the kids across the street….
They leered at me, They leered at me, They leered at me the people across the street….
They vilified me, They vilified me, They vilified me the faces across the street….
They hated me, They hated me, They hated me the beings across the street….
They hunted me, They hunted me, They hunted me the SHIT across the street….
I killed them, I killed them, I killed them the dust across the street…. ******************
Night time Locomotion
Some evenings one can hear the Night Train rumble through the valley; A nocturnal machine no one wants to hail, That welling booming knell bounding at the dragons' lair, A vipers tongue lisping into the world…..
Rattle and Rum it haunts the bucolic wastes, A narcotic locomotion grinding the verdant civilised pills.
A deep hoary swallow one makes as the thing passers by; A tender pious prayer you invoke, For the grace of Goodness to shackle the relentless Beast. ******************
Caller
It rang as bleating sheep at dusk, An envelope of silence at thunderous gavel, A bidding wake of PROBLEMS.
Some Caller I knew, The breath, the wheedled pleasantry, the gutted awfulness.
"Hello!" I said, "HelLO!!" I said, "HELLO!!!" I stopped.
The caller, the Iceman, the nightmare…… ******************
Silent Spring
The assassin held the gun to her head and said, "You're dead Lady of Spring!!" Dirges daffodils mourning in the box, Powder burns shattering glass by the golfing tables, The natterings, the screams, the crimson bedevilled silence:
The virtual bombs dropping, dropping, dropping, dropping, dropping…. ******************
The Suburbs to Shangri-la
I care like the maternal robin, The rubicund breasted sprightly proffering live worms with its insatiable blood: A conscience of seasons but the rite of Spring.
Some feathered ogre filling the exclusions with pretentious metaphors, Sticking down the templates, The unprincipled hay wain lumbering in wistful valleys, Ways of vines dripping their nectars at the end time philosophers.
The groves of masses toiling with the new modernism, "Free Will" they endear in parables, Free will to be the indifferent vagabond, Players to the embroiling MACHINE……. ******************
It must be GOD!!!
"It must be GOD! " The Fool on the hill yelled to the crowd, The day when the Comet straddled the sky. "Let us repent for the grace of God!" The preacher exhorted, His vanity shining in the darkened night.
The last prayer, the last word, the last credo of belief; But nothing would stop Nature's imprint, The giant bounding implacably across the stepping stone Cosmos, Regardless to the delusions of some species.
The end is always the same: SURVIVAL OR DUST. ******************
Ice in the Snow
The buffeted portals mimed the admonishment, A case for the inspectors' scribbling pad: The filing of the Alienated Kind.
I, the jester of the winds, Baptising a wrought pleasure and curtailing the lamenting soul; The wolf whining in the puerile snow, Its leprous eyes the gateways to the taboo darkness of Everymans' Will, A cosmic battle against the eternal deconstructed, Aye, for the ephemeral vectors spanning the unthinkable abyss. ******************
Illegitimate (The End of Monarchy)
The Chartists were the illegitimate hooligans , With stern republican brows they jostled the end of 'Kingdom' itself, A march to the gates of Sandringham, Protests to the end of privilege and the rotting boroughs within: NO CROWN FOR MORROWS' WORLD!!!!!
The beat of the glens with tartan rusks, The bodied valleys broiled in cacophony, The heat of Cromwell's lot, The hushing cheers of King and Country, The springs of the individual justified. ******************
The Fires of Kosova
"Professor don't shoot me!!!"
What care is the baby? What profit is the love? What yes is no? What guilt is shame? What truth is false? What red is blood? What kill is murder?
Which way should we travel today? ******************
Seas of Mist
Fellow ramblers trampling across the Seas of Mist, Akimbo arms wading by the beached bemoaning whales; A fallen angel wistfully calling to the blissful ferryman.
The impish fret of childlike worlds it sails the Martian winds; A little collection, a form of a nation, a crowd of peoples' bait, A chide to catch the girdling fish.
Come the belt that lacerates the skin! Come the pain within! Come the armoured predator warring face! Come the confusion we only haste! ******************
Sweet Veronica- To the Lady who stole my heart
What mortal eye could behold such eternal beauty? What great divine could sculpture such seraphic light?
When I look upon those enchanting beguiling eyes, I know the truth for one day upon the world: Sweet sweet Veronica, You are the most beautiful of all.
If Russia is to brave a New World, It needs not to beg upon the ruins of the West, For a Lady of the ruby treasures sparkles tonight: Sweet sweet Veronica, You are the most beautiful of all. ******************
The Sandgrains of Life
I sit and watch the waves crash against the sands, |