A Theological Advance by John Elwyn Kimber

And God said: you’re all foredoomed from bad to worse

                                                              for being born human in my universe.

 

This Holy Terror lurks in every human curse.

 

Or: I am your innermost, not set above –

                        the heart-of-hearts in all your human-hearted love.

 

The sacred charge implied is hard to disprove.

 

The Isness of the Innermost then opined:

                    Mister Holy Terror, you’re the fiend I find

              in black holes of the god-bedevilled mind.

 

But God-the-Holy-Terror made reply:

                  You, Sir or Madam, are the reason why
          your pie remains unreachably up in the sky.

 

And as to which counterclaim is true,

O mutant ape adjusting to a God’s-eye-view –

 

you are the It that now is up to you.

Cyberpoem by John Elwyn Kimber

Deep in the bunkers on Mauberley Down,

below ACHQ looming over the town,

..

in volume-production ( the range is vast ) –

….the CyberPoem, perfected at last.

..

….To pass at the entrance you follow the rules.

.A screening-procedure for suffering fools,

..

….the issues at issue, aesthetically-planned,

….subVariant themes of official demand

for a quality-product, controlled at supply –

….no dangerous edges to catch on the eye.

..

Reduce to a cipher securing your name:

ensuring the message is always the same,

..

that vault of the mind in unbreakable code;

..protected from taint or overload

..

and sealed so no-one can hear your screech –

..the standardised form of your freedom-of-speech.

Work-Ethical by John Elwyn Kimber

Toil for your soul tannoyed from the high
Moral ground of corporate expediency –
Bills, demands: letters-of-the-law,
Work makes you free above the door

To the high-security hearth-and-home,
Domestic hypertension’s bloody lebensraum,
Wired in by agreement to one thickening pulse:
The High Moral Tonelessness of work or else.

Children, bred only to be bought and sold
down the black river slicked with gleams of gold.
If only for this, all couples loved in vain:
Driven brow-down into the driving rain

Of imagery for fugitives high-tailing for
The gold-haloed beaches of Forevermore.
Free citizen the very last we hear;
The tail-lights storm onward-bound and disappear.

First published in the Californian magazine, Empirical.