code and the oracular


leave a comment »

Instead of moving up another level in the game-reality
by getting still better at wasting my enemies like I was meant to

Love moved me to ahimsa – harmlessness
eternally in quest of the right phrasing

(though I do still dig a war film or thriller now and then)

and made me wonder about a culture that could originate such a concept


while in the west we still fight the devil of our projections
in the grip of an inherited piety

ahimsa makes a home for the sensitive soul
the one that each of us really is

whether those once sensitive were thrashed out of it
in the bootcamp of capitalism
treated and incarcerated for the crime of natural awareness
and left without work, like I am

is this falsest of myths
that there is such a thing as a truly normal person
ever promoted with any meaning or justice?

these questions I need answered O normal one

although even admitting confusion, a need for understanding
has me castigated and pursued
by philistines wearing white coats

but through my madness I get some gifts that you dont know about
I get to take a peek into the secret margin notes of history

these incessant vivid imaginary conversations with voices
are they in my life’s margin?
a private torment? or a thing of use

the great pilgrimage that each of makes
no matter who
towards learning to love

sociopaths, narcissists write poems in locked units
during art therapy groups
peoms about spring flowers
poems about Love

yes no-one is denied that path
despite you and your prejudice O normal one

you who would barricade our road to the Temple
you who say so casually “he is not all there”
when centuries ago it was “oh, he is touched by god”
and your paymasters, doctors, petty judges of all kinds
keep you on your narrow way

you were with Franco weren’t you
and the way you glare at the revellers on the other side of the street
as they dance in anarchy
the dark disapproval in your eyes shows
it is like a vow to destroy joy wherever it arises

because you belong
and will not let me belong too

because you deserve
and will not grant me the same right

the way you look at me
like there is something wrong with the way I move
your children call me “weirdo” and you don’t chide them

I suppose there will always be men like you O normal one

your eyes are unyielding
they are as hard as obsidian when I accidentally meet them
you stand next to a gateway
“work makes you free” it says above it

I am confused – you’ve told me I have an appointment here

is it the entrance to the Jobcentre?
or something quite different to that…


Written by Luke Dunn

September 25, 2016 at 1:32 pm

Posted in Creative Writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: