Technological medium,

Millennial scourge,

It is a novelty to be cursed

By those

That lurk mute

And bend us over boards,

Jangle keys,

That lock us to screens

Lure us to watch

The infinitesimal dots

Of a pending conversation,

Tantalising communication

Equivalent to naught

But cyberspace

Apparitions, they live,

Albeit light in the micro byte

Still catwalk the trend;

Advocate that audible

Spectres are not sexy,

So by digital decree

Stop banshee wails,

Stop unearthly shrieks,

Of ringtones abhorrent

Are mobiles into useless vessels

Are despondent mouth-pieces

For those that don’t

Speak speak speak,

Not in text, or in verse,

Not in English, nor in dalliance

Nor in Roman or Greek

Instead, I read the greats

Classic antiquities,

Of ancient history’s elite

Seeking verbatim reply

From the Oracle of Delphi dumb

Silence to

Become swans

Who become

Nymphs becoming trees,

Dropping leaves,

Satyrs, deities

In rampant pursuit,

Fleet in their heat

Far too flexible at the knees

Perhaps Mount Olympus

Would have better reception,

Zeus lightning-fast on the line,

Or at least Hermes,

Flash on winged feet,

Bacchus loose-lipped

After too much wine,

Artemis on the prowl,

Profile sublime

Under her lion-pelt scowl

That could stare you down,

Sultry and obsolete

But it’s story-book myth,

Pure speculation,

The wish, the expectation

Different from

Reality’s circumnavigation,

Global spooks

Poles apart,

North and south in the freeze

I shudder,

Chilled to the core

As nithered as

Cupid in the nude

By haunting discord;

There are no safewords

That will draw the ghosts forth,

No use for phones,

No materialising calls

I respond

By disappearing too,

Another gone social media

Ghoul far from reach

Absence a double-edge sword

Of Damocles;

If you desire further speech

I beseech a mode uncommon

Please grab a Ouija board

And spell each letter,

A summon

 Skeletal sweetheart scant language

For your chosen phantom,

For her spirit-thin

Limbo on the ground,

I can be your

 Otherworldly elusive woman

In séance to

Perpetually hound



The Abyss

I stare into the abyss,

And it is familiar,

And I can name all of its

Fantastical beasts which writhe

Unguarded in collected myopia,

Short-sighted serpents

Colliding amongst canopias

Half gathered in the corners –

There are no opticians

In purgatory

Nor are there bakers,

Or tinkers, or bankers,

Though you can expect to find

Your former lovers:

The Perdita’s, the Lolita’s, the Cain’s,

Embodiments of loss,

Seduction, murder

Stark in the flesh;

Each one brilliant,

Each one to blame,

The past combustible

With repeated mistakes,

Which, once stacked,

Are explosive enough to wreath

All of limbo in flames

Where are our angels?

Can we recognise a face?

Or do we wander unseen

Fallen from favour and grace

In a continuous parade unravelling

Biblical verse,

Disciples turning circles

To end where they meet,

Searching for someone to wash their

Hands and feet in a dry land

The dust clouding common sight

I stare into the abyss,

And it is the same,

All of the beasts named

With blind blunt syllables

Dropping through the air

With the casting of the first stone,

Their pelts fair game

For a wondrous throne

I unfurl a ‘Welcome’ mat

And unpack a suitcase;

Today, no man’s land is my home