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Read Cyrus Issac’s new explosive poem ‘Hong Kong Reckoning’ in his new poetry collection ‘Visions of Things to Come’. |
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Postal Services Available: You can now order from Cyrus or his agency the following terrific services by post: |
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The Age of Kali What resides in this century but the horror? |
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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: |
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Dark Night of The Soul |
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Son of Ham
They came last night to our community, Shackling family to those infested irons, Burning the roots of ancestors immemorial; Filled were they with the pride of something better, Something sanctionable under their redeeming faith.
Something unsurpassable to their avid mercantile weightened scales; What are we? A chastened domestic animal? A licentious beast of evil? A disowned people from the world? Damned beings to be trampled upon to our last?
Who are you diviners of the North?
**************** Unsung Spires
The villagers were the townies of old, Their values contingent to the urbanity of lottery, Today’s God: The God of maximum detox. And unbeknown to the civilised are the empty spires, Their majesty shadowing the ‘Lego’ houses; On Sundays they sing the lost world of blotten ink and dandelion wine, The world we can only read: The jollity of the village and its pastorial meaning has disappeared, Laid waste to the supermarket villages we commoditise, To languishing spirits the unsung spires soar.
**************** Switch On
Switch on switch off, Switch what you want, Where you want, How you want, But please leave after the show.
Don’t be shy switch on, Modify the compromise, Disengage the compromise, Destroy the compromise, But please leave after the show.
Ask the question switch on, Make the intention clear, Have no anxious fear, Contend the brutal tear, Hunt the grazing deer, But please exit the door.
**************** Barrel of Gunpowder
Dissect the barrel of gunpowder, To escape the point of ignition, Shy the closet of personal self and assess, Shut the gates of emigration and guillotine the malcontent; Blur the distinction and castrate the felon, Accompany the coward to its rotten pit, Hang on the spires the revolver miles high to the attendant impressions, And push the TRIGGER!
**************** What Happened to Summer?
The strawberry pickers harvest Summers fruit, In Cotswold gardens of balmy afternoons, Gobbling the red sugars with smeared sticky lips, Their scarlet teeth and pink cheeks the clowns of England’s season.
Along the fields sinuous roads lead to the toy towns of shadows, Building sites of forgotten ghosts yielding the febrile products of callous indulgences; To these pin-pricks Winter reigns supreme, Her insidious fingers reaching into every vulnerable tongue, When truth rides into the bullion walls, It asks only- “What happened to Summer?”
**************** It’s a Dog’s Life
It’s a dog’s life for those who won’t or don’t, For those who careless or refuse to address; It’s a dog’s life to be shut away or slowly decay, In and out of rubbish and sprawl of grey; It’s dog’s life to the animals drowning in the pools of fractured rules, Curbing the pavements for the dispossessed in the suburban restlessness; So throw to the sharks the keys of dogs barks, And stamp the imprint of unkindly adamant.
**************** Soap Opera Charade
Switch the screen on tonight, Leave the life of today’s fraught fight, Dream on darling to fantasy flight, Be Mr Jones or Miss Cartwright, A saviour prince or stick of dynamite, An insolent corporal or lovers tearful sight, Imaginary stars performing alike, In powdered faces and concealed mike, To disingenuous words with a meaningful strike, Please please turn off that flaming light.
**************** The Citizen
You are Charlie Romantic, Regency of the sorrowful Atlantic, Withholding your bronze trident in frantic.
Euphonious notes greet the world, Cultural Nirvana untold, Crystal fountains killed, Forgotten footsteps unrevealed, I am the citizen of the immutable state, Gasping at the signs on the walls.
**************** I Vow To Thee No Country
Where the tribes have tread, In gentle meadows, Mountainous peaks or contourous plains malevolent red; Let the faceless speak before the tireless hour is at an end, Thou adjudicators of wrath thee mistakenly befriend, The pontificators of insidious machinations thee contend.
Thus an infringement here a treason there, In circumscribed masses stridently dare, To fight tomorrows nother battle without a brotherly care, To fill another glorious chapter of vanity fair.
In morbid cemeteries a far, And unsightly museums of bravado in putrid scornful tar, And remembrance for what! For not folly or inhumanity, No- But more to some soilless insanity ‘I call my country’.
**************** England, how far?
England England how happy you are, Bashfully exhorting forth, The rights and ways of peoples a far, Ascending the trampled, Celebrating the star.
Remembering of times past, When the seas were specked with Britannia’s flying mast; But now your rhetoric is hollow and low, Infected with Uncle Sam’s facetious glow, Illuminating the streets in tinsil Americana; Where forth now does Churchillian fight stand in Autumn’s flander?
**************** Café au lait
Our glances coincided in the mellow waft of café au lait, Your siam gems shining forth in the shaded gloom; And there in the crazy game of ‘wonnabies’, We exchanged the untouchable delicacy, The perfume of indelible beauty, The beacon of intangible mystery; But as we drank the last remaining golden Colombian grain, The guardians whispered their wisdom in the atmosphere of temptation; Two sentient beings from different worlds, Worlds in tortuous collision.
**************** Mannequin
I cannot tell if it was love beneath that sordid hatred; She condoning the tarted ladies of crimson lane, Herself plying the trade for a bourgeois glint, To the gorded spirits of twilight shame.
The feigned tree of money her opium to happiness, To walk the cities of class with an aspect of respect; The lauded acquisitive environment she grew, The mannequin in the closed window she was…………
**************** Delicate
A delicate breeze caught the black beetle on the edge of its tissue wings, Casting it down upon the concrete slabs. To the snap of ape fingers, The devil’s breath inhaled its ghastly emptiness, The life force extinguished on this terrestrial surface.
A human stretched out to the descending fakes of ice, As the scarlet pool enriched the purity of coolness, Impaling the living energy towards that indeterminable darkness, To the inexorable door of no return.
**************** Countryman
From Mother Earth we arise, To Mother Earth we descend, From childhood impressions we succumb, To adult perceptions we deduct, From sensuous sweets we taste, To erotic desires we abide, From impulsive creations we illustrate, To mighty structures we evaluate, From organic dynamism we breathe, To the soulless numbers we reason, From the young at heart we are, To the rancorous old we become.
**************** Silence
The days done. Pavements empty in the silent dark, Whimpering incandescence. A messengers discourteous rhapsody, Slumbering mealy mouth boundless without, A succumbing flame but a tormented heart.
Stay merry my friend and listen listen.
A wandering journeyman rides tonight, By mother lunars intractable light, Over sea, country multitude starry bright; His gleaming lance speckled in malevolent blood, Dancing in ecstatic joyless fright; To whom he venture? Thou might! In days created.
**************** Scarecrow
Bookend to bookend, Fortuitous memories we cherish; In gladdened hearts of hot summers, Through scorched meadows golden brown.
And there beyond the thorny blackberry hedgerows, Stands the solitary scarecrow; In crucified indolent gesture, Of nameless satirical conjecture; Characterless you might think, Inanimate sculpture without the force of life.
Nay! Whence the sun bows in western sky, Whence the creators blindly sleep, The scarecrow rises from dutiful mindless posture; In omniscient gaze it wonders: The sentient being is ALIVE, Alive to feel, sense, express, imagine; It is free to journey in starry nights, Without hindrance or circumscribed intention.
But what autonomy? No colour, no warmth, no beauty to cherish; So the scarecrow stays in stultified manner, Its mortified existence betrothed in sorrowful contemplation, Of a world it wished to be born.
And there in scorched field at first rays of morning, To the chorus of Nature’s calling, The scarecrow beckons in bountiful yellow corn.
**************** The Unfaithful Dada
Was her name Miss Genuine S or Faithful D? I can’t remember. The distracting halogens dazzled their tempestuous blindfulness on the magnetised sheets; To the vulgar polyphony we played and discovered, Of melodies unfelt in stringless mire. The unspoken truth beheld the nervous act, Through and through the hint of discordant tone; With a regretful smile we exited the stage of tender caress, Amongst friends I vainly boasted, To my lonely soul I grieved.
**************** Crossroad
I stood upon the crossroad of life, Staring at the vacuous reaper. Behind lay the journey chosen or fate disposed; A dice of endless ropes tempted my reticent neurons, “Let me show the way” they all advised, “Let me go!” I pleaded. To no avail future spoke, As I demanded the knots tightened; In disheartened stature I wished for tomorrow’s story: To awakening dream I stepped forth.
**************** Just Suppose…….
Just suppose you were the great, Hushing the crowd in figures of eight; Just suppose you were the hate, Crushing the shrouds in slithers of slate; Just suppose you were the gorgeous date, Flushing the frowned in titters of mate; Just suppose you were the circumstantial fate, Ushering the bound in litters of bait; Just suppose you were all and more, Leaping the ineffable gated score.
**************** The Clown
Alone the clown stalked the town, Its wounded face huddled in a black suitcase; Through the rainy streets of Stow it followed the crony crow, In clubs of bumptious smugs and pubs of glutinous tubs.
Outside shop windows it wished for a feathered pillow, To rest in the sanctuary of a simple bedfellow, A sleep without a peep, A moment without fear or a watery tear, To steer the troubled ship into the tranquil clear.
Nay! Nay fresh air for the uncouth undebonair; The rugged cliffs were all it could see or ever be, Unwelcome in every place in every human race, To wander the world in pain in ever lasting shame.
**************** Cain’s Constitution
Is Cain the name of you and I? The morality of the hypocrite, murderer and indifferent: “My dearest how I love you! My dearest how I hate you!”. Such etiquette of the marvellous duplicitous King Rate, To wrestle with that fickle piece of cheese.
Come the girlie of the silken pasture, The suckling breasts the beckoning loins; Come the mannish rock of rigidity, The oiled muscles the vibrating penis, Nothing said nothing revealed just two in a sunken bed.
Look upon the family and the children it breeds, The ones to be where success it theirs to see; The ones to forget in the brawled jungle, A lacerated Constitution to lacquer the forebears of mankind, To beautify the ugliness we manifest Blind.
**************** Knubis: Keeper of Dead Man’s Experience
The Valley of Kings whispered the magical incantations, In pillars of stone and bricks of clay, The cartouche of Pharaoh’s sanctified day.
Osirian bliss in bejewelled chambers of bluest lapis, Obsidian Knubis the guardian of dead souls, Protection to the lost ungainly foal.
A passage to the scales of judgement for everyman, The heart and feather of truth, To the end of liars and facetious uncouth.
The eye of Horus ever seeing ever being, A golden mask for the golden child, Treading the path to the haunted Isle.
Heavens emblazoned in Orion’s starlight, Across ancients Knubis incorrigibly rests, To tend dead man’s experience in destinations test.
**************** Shiva Spoke
Distant thunder rolled in the quartered night, The echo of the destroyer unbounded, A coward of every hero a fear for the fearless, Shiva spoke that moment: A spinal shudder in the primal scream.
The oriental perfume came to the Western sleep, Awakening the disturbed consciousness, Sirens of Meggido deafening the closed patronising mind; Warbirds roared like cancerous darts above the icy ceiling, A gust of Death blowing in silent bedrooms.
Cover thy ears! Cover thy eyes! Cover thy face! Cover thy body! Cover thy heart! Cover thy mind! Cover thy soul!
The child looked up at the Statue, Its silhouette embellished in the New Sun, Such wail through all eternity………
**************** Hello Cello!
Hello Cello! My dearest mellow fellow!
A vibrato on the taut strings, A sonnet on introvert things, A waning blossom to good tidings.
O sweet instrument bereft of precocious show, Your warming halo a glow, The luscious riches a flow.
A rainbow to succour the latent sorrow, An angel to follow, A goodly heart for morrow.
****************
Juggernaut
Her auburn locks swayed in the sultry Summer breeze, She, the angelic lady of beauty in the day before Angst, Singing the arcane oracles to the alien analyst, Like the enchanting Mermaid who leads the spellbound to their ignominious death on the furtive craggy rocks.
Madonna of the dream and the unavailed dreamer, A confluence of faith bereft of the reason to comprehend, Sitting in the impulsive violet sea, To the oncoming wake of October’s Country.
**************** The Eye of the Tempest
Sapient hammers thunders the solstice flame, Faery vales waltzing in the soiree saturnalia; Trolls and Wizards who cast the wonted Moon Calf, Vacuous beams of the rising dawn on the shale clime, The wilting honey lily in the lustrous morn.
And what banshee whisper echoes through the world? Banging on the doors of Cain’s sons and daughters of the 21st.
An indomitable mountain scaling the azurian hemisphere, All the consumed and yet to come, A precipice of babble and toils of babbling humanity; So it grows and flows and blows, A presage to when that night falls, When the eclipse furls its odious shadows across the cardinal points, And the Eye of the Tempest wakes at last.
**************** Fat Girl
She was never much of a thing (sorry a girl !). Nothing interested her except the delight of food. A cream cake here, a gargantuan burger there, A bar of dark voluptuous chocolate to stave the anguish away. Her parents begged, The School fed, The pupils fled and Miss Fatty bled. The doctors and clinics diagnosed but nothing arose; Still she grew and grew and grew until nobody knew what to do. “Miss Fatty will die one of these days!” they said. But what was life really all about except food and food and food?
And surely she died one morning by the riverside, With a stick of candy and a bottle of brandy, Slumped amongst the reeds and broken beads. No one understood what is was all about, Why such a once pretty girl should want to eat and die, When life was such a delicious pie……….
**************** The Fishing Party
Tea and cheese sandwiches they brought, A chequered mat covering the wild grassy riverbank; Two fibreglass fishing rods hung above the tempered water, Two cranes cautiously lowering their bounty of goods.
To catch the giant yellow carp lurking in the weeded soup; Patience and fortitude was the name, Deceit and trickery the Game.
**************** Lost
I glanced up at the post-Columbian sphere, The incontinent youth whose timorous telescopes wishfully searched for the dream of America; For a fleeting spec of the Great White Bird sailing in the boundless indigo eternity, To touch the magical essence of Icarus.
Vain was I clutching the school report recumbent in the English darkness, Fighting the howling voices within; The introverted boy growing into the extroverted man, Unready for the steel travails of the executioner and his irrevocable poison.
And there I lay in the open field, A dying lighthouse amidst the black void, Sending an S.O.S to far flung stars.
**************** Kamakura
Dappled shades intoned a sombre melancholic mood in the fecund orchard, The delicate hues of blossom composing a beatific polyphonic harmony, Mellowing their way by the transcendent Shinto stream.
The wise astute Nobel contemplated the tidings from his wooden palace, Earnest for the possibility of a prodigy emerging out of the waterfall mists, A fable from the ancestors who could teach the righteous life at the turn of the Rising Sun.
**************** (Noblesse Oblige) Nocturne Calling
‘Bathos’ might have been the word that came to the push-button soldier as the butter melted in dead mid-Winter. The whirling democrats who embellished dearest Psyche with the spit of Salamander, Saurians whose only wit and charm was the debased sardonic colloquy, O the chilliness of the premise! The droplets of warmth came from the detonating warhead and the showering acid rain that fell upon the helpless terrain, Refulgent glories of the savoir faire refrain.
They spoke with the Charlatan’s contrite sincerity: The velvet of Love and the secateurs of Cupidity. It was as if the locusts had devoured the Joy of Life and desolation stalked the Earth, And the vista of Man and Woman straddled a panorama atrophied with the Nocturne Soul.
**************** Chasing the Dragon
She watched the image reflected in the plastic mirror, An emanating moribund distant expression, The deathly pallor of the setting rigor mortis; Her hands trembled like minor tremors as the syringe pierced the bruised skin:
BACK TO NORMALITY! CHASING THE DRAGON! BACK TO NORMALITY! CHASING THE DRAGON!
Soon her birthday would fall, The tender age of blissful fourteen, A powered present dream, And the wish to be another human being:
BACK TO NORMALITY! CHASING THE DRAGON! BACK TO REALITY! CHASING THE DRAGON!...........................
**************** Golem
From lumps of clay I created the Golem, From the hollered breath I enticed Sodom, From humble serendipity I robbed ‘em!
What spot on the landscape could I be? The drowning pool? The Master’s Public School? The baleful fool? The parasite infested stool?
The Eremite shriven to the pavement planets, Praying to the seraphic idol, Crawling to the sapless existence………..
**************** Media Store
What’s Camp? Everything’s Camp!
Them thespians and media samp, Lusting champagne and weal’s of bane, Canoodling lovers and dandying fame, Seedling anecdotes and chemical floats, Taking snapshots of the dredging soaps: Tell me Executives, Producers, Directors, Members, Heavenly Senders- What’s the studio to be?
Camp! Plant the Damp! Camp! Plant the Damp!
**************** Morning Has Broken………
The lapping waters sounded the knell on the banks of Modernity, Slumbering beauties delirious slurpers of soporific opium, Grooming their flightless wings in the waning flame.
A beached whale groaned with stertorous breaths, Its tail slackening against the receding tide, Exhorting its siblings to stay away from the accepted Fate.
Swallows sallied down the migratory way, Their instincts in obeisance to the Function, Obsequious souls of the Light who thought not the Ultimate Purpose.
Peoples of all peoples skated on the fickle ice, Their consciousness burning with Invention, Spinning the fluid Thread of Construction, Counting the Dead leaves across the seas.
**************** Never the Twain shall Share
The comedian commented in the caprice autumn fair: Never the Twain shall share…..
Such gates which close minds from the throng of human kinds, Repenters and Victims of strobed Communions, Disdaining and Hailing the Carnal Union.
We hallow, accuse, maim, But who’s name do we feign from whence we came?
**************** Ignis Fatuus
Outside the Simoon squawked and shuddered the corporeal inside!
Brother Caligula the Caesar of crepuscular half-being mocked the pensive Isle I ventured, The outlandish despotic gaggle that ensnared the dissenting questionnaires, A strike of the gladius at Liberty’s heart.
My dearest sibling Fear clinging fastidiously at the non-obliging tourist, Whose evanescent rags festooned the slippery cobbles I tread: Ignis Fatuus was the flower I sought.
To feel the wondrous fire at the plucking Siren’s senescent lyre, Those sylph maidens who sweetly sang the restful refrain of retire; So straight and lucid the road led to the ambient light far ahead, But nought could I reach for the grail I desired: The Roman had floundered in the wile sands.
**************** The Dance of Life and Death
In wild’s untamed the cheetah stalks its prey, An intrepid hunter of the Bush’s fatal play, Catching the unlucky creatures who carelessly cross survivals rubicon today; To what sentiment does nature unequivocally say: “I love thee as forever May”. When the weak and burdened are the first to be eaten away, In the baking rays of a clay tray, The Dance of Life and Death continues its insufferable stay.
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