Sunday, September 28, 2008

Five poems by David McLean


Five poems
by David McLean

devils in heaven

the devil's in his heaven and all's well here in hell
where we squirt our abortion over the hopeless sky
like too little pollutions and all the children
remember suicide's sexy solution is cute

as a shaved corpse raped on a table.
we defile night with impotent life
by pretending to pin gods to the sky
and naming stars that swim there
fucking the nothing

we defile life by pretending names and time,
as if love was hung enough
and there were less skulls and skeletons
in the mind, we defile life by pretending

mine

####################

mourning stills memory

mourning stills memory
though nothing gets forgotten
it seems

like peace was pieces of time
sleeping inside somewhere
as if our surfaces looped

so something could live
inside them - mourning
still is memory's when

##################

we put them away

we put them away, memories
till the world is where a laptop
can take a slapping like a man

and thirteen several devils
put the razors away awhile
in a child's pocket

that left them then
there is oblivion and void
in me, a locus

nowhere instead of heaven
today we celebrate Russian
football, better than nothing

and devious explanations
forever, a day just started
wasting away, changing

time, to remain

####################

theirs is this madness

theirs is this madness where words bear
this misplaced potential, “bare” with us
they say, being either witheringly stupid
or nudists

and heaven gets undressed again, goats
and naked angels, different from devils
in that devils shave their legs and use
deodorant - which is sinful

i smell of my holiness and a hangover
and devils are dead inside me -
they lie there silent as my prayer
decaying nicely

#####################

the beat of time

the beat of time is carved in lager,
our supple resurrection our subtle
erection, a mourning nightmare
to waste the hours away

when we remember our selves
and leave them waiting there
for the grave they shall throw
us in, guilty of innocent

death, forever out of breath

Author bio:

David McLean is Welsh but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He has a BA in History from Balliol (1982) and an MA in philosophy from Stockholm (1999). He has one chapbook as a free download at Why Vandalism. Another, in print, can be ordered at Erbacce Press. A full length poetry collection Cadaver's dance is available at Whistling Shade Press and can be ordered at alibris or amazon. Another book of 128 pages is out with Erbacce-press, "pushing lemmings." More books are in the pipeline and there is even a self-published book of poems at Lulu called "eating your night" Lulu. Details of around 600 poems in or forthcoming in over 260 zines online or print over the last eighteen months are at Mourning Abortion.

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