N-U-I-C


Believe me if I could help you I would
If I could reach into your ill-wrought
oft-sought soul
and extract the many mouthed
black toothless thing that eats at your insides

I would

like St.George striking a killing blow to some monsterous dragon,

I would
all holy and self fulfilled
in the knowledge that what I do
I do to make you greater
and freed from the evil grip of that loathesome thing
that you have fostered all these years
due to a drunk father and an indifferent mother.
You see...
I love you
NOT because you are special to me but
because in you I see buddha.
In you I see jesus,
in you I hear Lao Tzu struggling
against manicles, gags and chains, in you
I feel the warmth of Vishnu,
the fire of Ra
the strength of Horus
the wisdom of Math.
I love you because in your pure state you are my god
                  as I am yours
as we are theirs
as they are ours.
If I could lift my hand like a mighty weapon, blot the sun
                   and come down through you
cleaving the dark from the light so as to make visible
that wretched whelp of an abomination
                which confuses the two, I would; but
  I cant. I can only see its eyes blink with clear membranes
as it readies for war, I
can only see its sucker mouth purs
and smack as it slops its way through your core, I
can only see its sharp pointy tendrils slip off your tongue
        like quicksilver and vomit, I
can only sing to drown out its laughter.
So....
did Father make this monster?
Did mother cuddle it at her tit?
Did rape, betrayal, beatings and love-sour leave it reaching
  like tall grass to the sun? No.
No and you know it.
                      It was you.

You fear too much.
You hide within yourself like a china doll
                 inverting into a moebius strip.
        You are weak and buckle terminally, so.
       For you Buddha,
    for you Jesus,
for you Lao Tzu

        I weep.