Jacqueline Weir: Poems
THE TUNE OF ANOTHER
On the salacious edge of the light curve,
The lines, the wave, the fault in your reality.
It is a sign, a trick, a snare.
Be afraid, be aware that the eye deceives more then the mind.
Illusion, trickery; nothing but the tune of another's psyche.
Observe. Glare through the flickering flaw,
The slubbed fabric.
Tear it open, peer in, reach in,
Do not avoid the void, rush in,
Be that fool tumbling.
Stray from the sordid path,
The glowing edge, the Id can be your guide,
But don't think to return from the new world,
A true world.
Crawl through the space, into space and swim among the stars,
Such a bright
A beautiful dream of reality true.
A gift, a life so sweet tasting;
In dreams and honey, pure.
Rest In the gentle arc of the lillies.
Breathe the perfume for once,
An new adventure to venture forward.
Touch the light and taste the rich abundance.
Indulge yourself. Treat yourself kindly..
Devour your own Heaven.
And leave no trail, no telling footfalls.
Be consumed by the light;
Let it feel you, feed you, tear your flesh, dissolve you
In acid sunlight.
Who gains the remains?
No one -
There shall be none,
No claims on your life.
Oh sweet deceit Into freedom!
Wallow in that resplendance.
And forget all that lies behind you in memory,
To turn back is to turn to stone,
Run from this weighted existence,
Plunge into the cool black water
And cleanse yourself of a putrid Life.
Misery, what has it granted thee?
A mirthless soul in ravenous flesh.
Dare yourself to be human,
To be, a tiny God.
PRIVILEGE THROUGH VIOLENCE
So many laws of Empire still stand firm here. You can see it in the
eyes, hear it in the voice, and feel it in the attitude
Of those who start their speeches with "Believe me when I say I have
The wolves of colonialism have forced their claws and carnivorous
desires into the blood soaked skins of slaughtered sheep
And stalked among their 'subjects'. They are just like us, now.
Why worry, after all, when they've already granted us our freedom...
Yes, our freedom. Our liberty.
How easy it is to forget that freedom can only be granted if it is
first taken away.
When the predators relaxed their jaws, their punctured, petrified prey
gained nothing, but reclaimed a little of their lives.
Never be deceived by a bloodied herd baring gifts - they are merely
thieves returning the goods
That no longer serve their purpose.
Behind those gleaming smiles lie hateful sneers and a deeply embedded
wish that we will all remember our place.
"So, where are you from?" she asks, even though my accent is more
local than hers.
She will never believe that we were born under the same flag, or even
under the same sun.
After all, her forefathers were the masters of mine and
it is only by their precious grace that I am 'allowed'
to step foot onto her hallowed isle.
She expects gratitude worn upon the sleeve and an unhealthy expression
of how happy I am to be living amongst her brutes and thugs.
"Where am I from?" From a place that never invited you but welcomed
you all the same:
And was thanked with beatings, bullets and a life in chains.
Incarceration is so easily veiled when the shackles are,
convieniently, no longer made of iron:
But made instead of poverty and the imposition of a culture built upon
greed and selfishness.
Easy to pretend that you are not injured when the lash comes from the
Yet, every time your history is omitted or distorted it is the
bull-whip across your back.
And everytime you believe the lies of free enterprise, that equality
can be bought with enough money and aggression,
The chains around your arms are pulled ever tighter.
How can you raise your hands in pride when they are tied behind your
And when you dance to the stereotype's tune you lay at their feet the
proof for which they never stop searching.
That apparent and blatant role model is the slave traders' tool - that
manufactured 'culture' is the collar around your neck.
That collar will become a hangman's noose.
And with that burning rope they will lead you into the pit, the mass
grave which we are all too willing to keep digging:
Whilst telling all the imperialists of old that they were right, all
along, to compare us to those who walk upon all fours.
Terrified eyes twisting
Searching for reprieve, for mercy
This is what the butcher didn't see
As his fist cracked another rib.
She knew she was bred to die
It was a fate to which she was resigned
The added brutality?
The others tried to shy away
In their non-space, non-home - breathless cell
They trampled upon one another,
Panicked, garrotted witnesses
Hoping to make the horror disappear.
So, this is what it means to be worthless.
Another crack, a leg this time
Could he not hear her cries, her pleas
To stop? Stop
Every ounce of flesh aflame
Roasting in the Hell of inferiority,
This is what the butcher didn't see
Now he stands and raises a foot
To finish a killer's handiwork
Not a kick but a stamp; a crush
Her scream was eaten by fleeing air
She bit her tongue and tried not to care
Believing, the end to be near
Will this day of blood be forgotten
By this body,
Pleading for darkness and life no more?
A screaming, tortured vivacity
This is what the butcher didn't see
As he slid a pig's carcass
Across the metal floor
God only knows what he thought he saw.
THE HAND THAT ROBS THE CRADLE
At the sound of that first lonely cry
He stands beside the cradle
With gifts to steal the pain away.
One hand outstretched with a bright delight
The other held close, concealed
By a hungry, lightless body.
And in those hidden fingers he clasps the vial
As empty as he, and craven.
There is one for each squalling child
Rising from the core of separation
To procure purpose, memory and truth.
Stealing from a babe is his most trying task,
They know too well who they are. Uncorrupted and new.
Seduction is simple
When there are eyes and ears to be deceived
And other hollow vessels
To help lead the strange astray,
Turn its eyes to the prison wall
Hurling a shroud over the fey.
In convienient shadows, he barely dares to breathe
While he waits for that childish wonder
To accept his tainted oblation.
All it takes is a hint of 'I'
To trap a glimmer of soul under glass,
There it will grow. Ripen. Fester.
All benevolence will be betrayed
By a twisted undine slithering beneath the skin.
Consequence deceased in a daylight eye,
The spirit dragged, in misery, to dust.
The cold glass encroaches, begging to be filled
With the spinning mirror: a wonder light.
And the hand
Still closes tight, while the tongue dreams
Of succulent premature death. A wish
Too often fulfilled as senses are stung
By things that do not concern them,
Reason and resolve blur behind the haze of desire.
The future is thrown to the mouth of a liar
And behind each smile, an ungrateful sneer
As he swallows the essence of stars.
And as another newborn cries, calling for caring touch
Out of reach,
He is there with the offering,
An impoverished subsitute,
Waiting for the wanting,
The murder of all there is to love.
He seemed so different through the beautiful rose blessed window
Dangerous, yes, but delicate. Compelling eyes, tender lips
All so temptingly displayed on the face of an impoverished angel.
No, this isn't right;
That gentle mouth wears an impish grin.
This is how he draws you in...
He danced towards me, playing jester or demented harlequin
Closer...Closer...Keep your distance!
I could almost feel his chilling skin...
Don't think I don't know who you are!
I have walked behind your eyes and tasted your torture
Tainted further by untruths told.
The Devil's hand is filled with gold. But, I know his gifts
Are maimed desires and pain filled lusts.
Such a seed would tear me in two
As his mis-shapen brat screamed to freedom.
Unfathomable agony...What is that growing across my face?
Dear lord, I wish for this spell...
Grant me that hypnotic gaze
I could remain in his arms for the rest of my daze
Or asking how he grows so strong from my weakening pulse.
His face is almost upon mine, now.
The clear smooth sand is my only sheild
Do not crack! Do not bow! I fear I will yield. No...
The faintest sound as the virgin is pushed to the stone.
What can protect me now?
This is what it means to blindly fall
Into the ravenous mouth, into the labyrinth...
How far can these muscles stretch, these bones bend
Before the body rends under the force of those deadly arms?
A lifetime. An eternity. So he assures me...
I must never steal my eyes from his
So he assures me...
He climbs in like a thief
Leaving no mark but the shattered glass;
His tongue bears the sound of empty love
But he sings so sweetly the songs of the ordained
His voice filling my heart to burst.
I refuse to resist.
A demon could not spawn such beauty...Or be so beautiful,
And what a sight he is to behold -
A winged gazelle bearing no signs of the flames of Hell.
And even with the aura of graves around his feet
I still feel my place is beneath them.
This is a cold but comforting embrace. My head weary
upon his shoulder
He whispered a perfumed insult and told me not to fear
And it was so deep...
Distant laughter in a half forgotten dream
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