the Jua Kali Word Factory

warning sign

occasionally
I still want the badge to wear
to see what others see (and smile)
and I wonder why

this childish profusion of chaotic uncertainty
intrinsic identity found
outside

the splintered self and selfish soul shouts
“more” and well,
sometimes I think “dude, you need to shut the hell up”
and sometimes; not so much

and it’s not a complicated thing
this thing
but it’s elemental;
raw self interest lives within
and I am desperate…

love me; validate me; tell me I’m alright
tell me that I won
that I was the best
or at least

…that I raced with panache; that I wasn’t the last
that I make you stop
and weep
and think
that you wish you were me

man; the tragedy of this!

But

subjectivity rules this sphere
and lies
and (of course) the gravity career
will keep me spinning here

(forever)

so listen to me now
you will not find it here
you will not find it here; this is but a warning sign
a sigh;
and rest; uncurl; relax

and lose
and laugh
and smile.

-jka

I know people who write wonderful poetry (and teach kids about it) that hate rhyme, and I understand that. When I started discovering poetry it was free verse that excited me – no rules, no obligations, just a blank sheet of paper. It was a bit anarchic, and I loved it.

…but there’s always that nagging doubt, isn’t there? In this case I wondered if the reason I said this was a little bit because writing a sonnet, or anything in a set metre and rhyming structure, is, well, hard.

So when I decided I wanted to write properly (still don’t know what that means…) I decided to try to write in set structures, figuring that I could only reject it as a form with any validity if I knew I could actually do it.

So I wrote Barbeque Summer, 1999. But that may come out later. Of course, the peak of set structures is the sonnet. Hard, but not if you have a reason for writing one. A muse, if you will.

So may I introduce my muse, and, along with her, the first sonnet I ever wrote?

My muse is called Gillian, and the sonnet is hers. She’s ok with me publishing it, if you were wondering…

Sonnet

A gift I give to you whose life I share
Although aware that nought could pay my due
Unrivalled joy compels me still to dare
And here unwrap my heart, my soul, for you
No loneliness remains, nor stain of grey,
For beauty now has come and I have peace
I dream of you and dreams now rule the day
At night I find all burdens are released
So what is thirty now? The clocks are still;
In tale of years I now count only five
For I recall the moon on Bradgate’s hill –
‘Twas with your kiss that I became alive.
But then how can I give what’s not my own?
For into one our loving souls have grown.

-jka

…and that feature just cost me real actual money to enable! Lookee – principles in action!

there will be no adverts in heaven
though there may well be adverts in hell
I imagine the Lord would have issues with Ford
if they called up St. Peter to sell

‘A Mondeo for Jesus! And if the Lord pleases
there’s interest-free credit for all!
don’t think about sins, we’ve got 19-inch rims
and a wide-boy exhaust for St.Paul’

no there will be no adverts in heaven
surely marketing men are all damned
I’m sure they’d excel in the boardroom in hell
telling Satan to strengthen his brand.

‘We must make the latest flames hotter!
half-price on all dungeons for four!
our interest-free loans aren’t secured on your homes,
we’ll just take your soul evermore!’

So I’ll leave you for now with a warning,
do not believe all that you see.
For that god of the market, the corporate target,
is living inside your TV!

Ta-da, boom boom etc.

Oh, and I’m not joking, by the way….

-jka