ROOTLESS EXE THE THIRD POETRY COLLECTIVE WORK BY CYRUS ISSAC 2007

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Rootless Exe

By Cyrus Issac © 2007

(Edited Abridged Edition. This is the sole ownership & copyright of Cyrus Issac.)

Question: Who am I?

Bloxham Utopia

I hear the red kite squealing in the balmy April Spring,

An unimpeachable being where liberty rejoices under the human-machine metrodome.

I sit placid but disturbed,

Conjoined to the electric world,

Uploading downloading the essence of someone something.

I wait for the passing connexions,

Little bits of life whirling in the feckless consume;

A word here, a milestone note there,

A lighthouse chapel to pray when the roots cease………….

Bars

The confined wrote the autobiography,

No ostensible reason but the sparrows chirping to the Spring cycle.

The confined scribbled its life once upon a time:

A dribble as inane as the deluxe ivory enamel.

The confined counted day by day,

Wondering how the end would come,

The ink was drying,

The confined bars always towering…………

Be They the Benefactors

Be they the benefactors that create,

Nor afraid to cross the intractable rubicon which divides the insuperable from the possible.

To venture where all encompassing darkness resides,

Nought guardians to point the hands of certainty.

Nay compassionate tenderness warm and comforting;

But the daunting voyage to be taken,

A tillerless ship sailing to unknown worlds whose time kindles brave…………

The Lady in Red

I met the lady in red one fine Wednesday afternoon in the tangle melee of urbanitehood.

Her eyes blazed a vivid spell-bounding emerald hue,

Soft auburn curls tangled down her sinuous celtic face.

She greeted me with the loveliest angelic smile a man could ever desire.

We exchanged niceties of times gone and good fortune to come.

Her life had been one serviced for the pleasure of men,

A guilt buried beneath the façade of jollity.

We departed with sincere kisses,

Out shame floating in the sinful western ocean……….

The Train Journey

The sweat of a billion swamped the river of life,

Lacrymose laughter chattering in the sardine canned carriages,

Hearts fluttering and dying,

The dark heat of London burning relentlessly………

Late Night Junction

“You are born to fail!” proclaimed the midnight soldier,

His hands incinerating in the thermonuclear post-September.

So you desire peace!

So you clamour prosperity!

So you seek a world of equanimity!

All these are like the gold you mine:

Destined for the pit of human fools,

You are what you are,

The predators of annihilation………..

Modern Anarchy

Milk as white,

Past twelve four,

The child rode the coin,

Twinkling pit black,

Vomit on gold,

Cool as the blast furnace,

Pigs flying to the stars,

Noddy dating the prostitute,

Passion as freezing ice cube,

Freud meets the master,

Pitted carpet so solid,

Cheese as poison Caesar,

Sweet the gruel hots up,

Touch vacuum nothingness behold,

The brain weeps its present memory past……..

Monkeys

My father arrived here from the Islands,

A suitcase in hand and almighty pride in the other.

He battled hard in the northern rain,

And worked between the streets of Master Urbane and the gutters of immigrants pain.

He saved all the silver and gold a man could muster,

And walked the miles to the Banks of Mr White.

With a modest dream to own a little bricks and mortar shining baking bright.

And at every executive door the same refrain would echo through the dusty imperial corridors:

“I’m afraid there’s no money for the Monkey………”

Beauty & The Beast

The memory can be the solace,

Rose and rarefied perfume scenting the dry skin furrows and agonising heavy hearts.

It turns pages once lived:

Times of laughter and smiles as long as the universe,

And times of tears when dreams coalesce into nightmares and the lights of purpose dwindle away to a forbidding void.

Sometimes we like to forget the pains that come,

A touch of youth,

A smell that arises from the depths,

An image that materialises in the patterns,

A stitch too far betwixt the folds……….

A nice cup of tea

Alone you are lying in bed,

A novel by J Le Carr and nothing said.

You stare at the wall,

With thoughts of yesteryear,

Thinking about the bar room brawl and the wreak of deadly amber beer.

Ah those were the days,

When time never pressed on thee,

When one could shine on the podium of plays,

And drink a nice cup of tea.

Telephone Mate

It’s that black dog whining in the wilderness,

He never stops,

The teeth mean to hurt,

The ripping of human flesh like razors in jelly.

There was once the real sentient touch where sentiment had its place,

But today the telephone is my mate………..

Code Name Peel

The material leaves a place,

The place leaves a trace,

The trace leaves a face,

The face leaves a case,

The case leaves a mace,

The mace grinds itself into amorphous paste………

The Age of Meat

Take a peek at the geek you unwittingly meet by the dripping leak and cow tow so meek to the sound wave we seek and shout to the billions stampeding feet:

GOD IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE MEAT!

Byron’s Siren

Byron understood nature as truth,

It was the unadulterated fact.

People merely toiled with a delusional belief,

Dreaming in the bucolic landscape of reason,

Postulating that their species came to understand universal knowledge.

I am one of those species saddled from head to toe with the baggage of human knowledge, empiricism and universal reason.

So why do I stare into the black pit?

The Theatre

The curtains rise,

The audience holds its breath of anticipation,

The actors arrive,

The narrative chimes with the multitude of alienation,

The people cry,

The gates close shutting the beings incarceration,

The lights die,

The dust is emptied onto the streets incineration,

The silence belies,

The ghosts haunt the souls whose rootlessness is extermination.

A Love Too Close X 8

Their lips kissed in unison,

Their arms caressed like conjoined twins,

Their hearts beat for a moment as one,

Their focus as a single fantasy,

Their hopes and dreams through the golden ring,

Their future as the sunshine couple living in mirth,

Their aspirations to be a loving requited family,

Their reality but the tearful path of broken yearnings………

Ape the Atom

The dextrous hand crafts out of sand the elemental munificence: to split the atom.

Such limitless energy as bountiful as the stars in the Milky Way;

A gift billions unnamed.

A power invested in reason to warm the shivering souls,

A kind whisper in the working class slum.

But what if the power is invested in faith?

Watch the skies my friend,

Watch every day,

Prowl the heavens at night,

Look for the spark which ignites the Ark………..

Lesser Being

It is Spring and the being yearns but early;

The limbs are soft and tender,

A mind awoken from the long long slumber,

The sun a glowing orange rising.

Time passeth as a descending marble down the canyon.

It is Summer and the being bounds heavenly,

The life force is strong and plentiful,

It loves the world as a sibling to its parents,

The days are bright and the impossible crowns in glory.

Old Father Times chimes another collective bar.

The sun has passed its highest point,

Shadows lengthen along the ledges of symmetry.

It is Autumn and the being bathes in golden rays of the long long decline,

The age of reason has displaced the age of energy: no longer the intrepid soldier with adventurous zeal but the administrator trapped in the hole of common sense.

The lines broaden as the compass marks its latitude.

Hallmarks pen the history before and petals once vivacious hues pale,

The days are now darkening,

The twilight years cast the mortal shadows and the arctic chills press on thee.

It is Winter and the being expires a shallow breath,

The spine is arched,

A painful moribund ache expunging the life force that once was;

Only distant reflective memories pervade the meek soul,

As the sun finally sets to the tolling bell…………..

An Alien in London

My score in life was to wander the streets of London,

Middling back lanes and franchised thoroughfares,

Grand masquerade houses and plebeian backdrops,

Ostentatious 4 X 4‘s and rusting bent bicycles.

These were arteries of the beast,

Its interminable sprawl spreading like a malignant cancer,

Eating the inhabitants and countryside up like a giant insatiable industrial python.

If one was brave as a lion,

Once could stare into the eyes of the concrete serpent,

Its slimy reptilian orbs as vacant as the hangman,

An officious civil servant to the command,

A purest corporate function,

Urbane commercial needles sharpened with the diamond edge of capital,

Consummately prepared to the pierce the comfortably numb populace.

To inject cerebrums by the millions with the common click virus,

And there I walk alone as an alien amongst the multitudinous Zombies……………..

What Good is Bad?

A human quite sad?

The mocking bird pecking at the bloodied feet,

Eyes averting away from the silhouettes in the street.

Be the fly on the wall,

Robots striding tall:

You the angry man

I the hermit proffering the cyanide plan……….

Enmity Contact

I cannot exactly place the time or date but it was at that brooding dusky zone,

When imaginations intermingle with the mundane prosaic.

I awoke to the bellowing curtains dappling the all mighty radiating sun,

A blinding new star ascending the turquoise heavens,

A god like no other,

Resplendent with the omnipotent tools we so desire and so fear………..

Doctoring the Paranoid

It waddled through the clinic like a walrus on steroids,

A mind cooked and garnished for the diagnostic supper.

The doctor entered as a self-confident king of cocks,

Strutting with all his intense medical accoutrements,

Expounding the laws of fact,

A poker-face as inscrutable as eternity.

The geriatric glanced up from the darkest depths,

Its surmise prepared for the lamentable diagnosis:

The beast had grown,

The terminal storm unleashed,

No gates to close no future to journey………

The Consumer

I consume the cup brother,