Paul Steffan Jones 1st


 

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Panic Station

2019-08-06
By: Paul Steffan Jones AKA
Posted in: Poetry

How many pedestrians are arguably pedestrian?

how many drivers can claim to be driven

as the kilometer psychotically accelerates 

to that finite point when rust will return 

triumphant on the saddles of a troop of horses 

that will be the daddies and mummies

of the new heathen horsepower horde 

of carbon-neutral transportation?

flashing one's debit card in the twilight of plastic

in an era of multiple extinctions 

you could almost get a programme to aid 

a more user-friendly viewing of the shows

got Popol Vuh on the speakers 

Germans riffing to Mayan influences

how I like it how dead people still speak to us 

across the centuries of disease invasion 

and the most extravagant exterminations

I try to remember the names of people 

I used to work with

to stave off forgetfulness 

and the names of actors

I rehearse my new escape wings

awkward with still tacky glue

going around and around in circles before non take off

until I fall asleep my beak stilled on my chest

and birds fall on my garden their eyes bleeding

or did I just read about that on the web?

Ceri Shaw
08/06/19 07:06:46PM @ceri-shaw:

A great poem but I also want to thank you for reminding about 'Popol Vuh'. Haven't listened to them in decades!! :)


Paul Steffan Jones AKA
08/06/19 07:32:04PM @paul-steffan-jones2:

Thanks very much Ceri.  An important part of the poet's remit is to deal with memory.  Seem to be having diffculty on the site today with a "failed to initialize plug:fullscreen" gremlin that won't go away.


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