Poetry

Modern Poetry | Post-Modern Poems

Latest Poetry

Cotton Books

Cotton Books

body-bed-body torturous
he read for hours
until the night feeling & bedsheets
undisturbed
more than a form
& the long-dead

Sul Serio

Sul Serio

I had a friend
who used to inject
ink straight
into his arteries
black tracks
running up his arms;

River Desire

River Desire

creations bare bones
now fresh frost curves nudity
living silken suit
sky heaves as life leaves
tense and laboured atmosphere
ice rolls and rises

Kingfisher III

Kingfisher III

I am too weak now
to push the broken shells
away from my bed
so I sleep
in the bodies of our children
& dream of what they could have been

Beautiful & Meaningless

Beautiful & Meaningless

were I a painter
& could distend light
across empty skies
I would paint the bodies of Christ
as they rolled in their eternal
loves & agonies

Popular Poems

Pygmalion

Pygmalion

there are those, I discovered late, who were not born
loathing their bodies
whose faces grew from their souls, & were not stamped
upon a skull with little care

A Cheap Black Rosary

A Cheap Black Rosary

when I wasn’t looking for a teacher
she arrived
with her casual blasphemies
wearing the crucifix between her breasts –
cheap, plywood, & with her sweat
the black dye trickled

Submission

Submission

I am tired of submitting to your beauty
as I am tired of submitting to the endless
magazines online nothings & hand-stapled
dreams
& their editors
careless with their editing

Carry

Carry

such beauty;
it yearned to be a poem –
it wanted to travel with me,
& in me,
& witness for itself,
its own beauties

Rouen

Rouen

cigarettes & two words –
le bel! Le bel!
shouted over the water, momentary
madness our bondage
freed in chains, exultation free in
passionate strings;

Morts Anglais

Morts Anglais

Lovers kissed, beneath us, passionate
their clothes no impediment to the universe – haute
once, now shuddering with greater dishevelment &
royalty; their lips were everything,
mud,
beauty,

Modern Poetry

Poetry is one of the last great refuges of the 21st Century. Modern poetry spins and crackles in the air; modern, traditional, post-modern poems move through our brains and mellows, enrages, burns and blows on the wind. All poems can enhearten us, devastate us. Poems can be a clever turn of phrase, a wry smile, an evocation of any emotion – poems are one of the only art forms which can actually provide us with a framework on how to live our lives.

And now, by forcing it to perform in pixels and on screens, I’m destroying modern poetry. I don’t want to. I want to glisten like a modern poet, to smile and move and turn on the spot like a poet. These poems aren’t really poems – I don’t know if it’s possible for somebody like me to write poems. They are an attempt at modern poetry.