Poetry
and Paintings by James Ryan
BEHOLD THE MAN
Behold the man: behold
the man: short, small and loosley. No desire left,
except for annihilation.
All hope compromised. All meaning destroyed.
Fortuitious collisions of sedimentary desperation
and angelic
noteriety.
I am a fireball of enthusiastic inevitability;
my mind
enters into other minds, tries to heal and save them, but it is mostly met
with sick acrimony, hate and negation, and a desire to gas me and all
other 'sick' lunatics who want to give
peace and acumen to the sordidity
of the twisted bad faith of a seriously crazy
human race.
BEYOND THE VORDERMANN
Helen Knowles disturbs young
souls
with her brilliant mind
she's not a recidivist, nor even a platonist
but to most she's not unkind
Numbers are her penumbra,
and maths is her deepest love,
she cannot differentiate, except when
0 is above.
She culls cubic metres, like there aren't
any seaters
in aeroplanes.
But always she's positive that numbers
are God's own gifts
to Helen 2 1/5 Knowles,
the great calculator, and firm abbreviator,
of all that's mathematical, and deeply
analytical....
that our Helen knows.
"GLASTONBURY JAPES"
The obnoxious Gknussos gave a great cry and split the entire expeditionary team in two. "Celendricos!" quoth he, and immediatly rasponthwaite he full nine. Bullabooloo in time patrick, set Jabthsondwaite ti the kneel-weel, and such was his struthers that he ectocarmelised adjointly." What sraisin doth he mule", fedjed Arthur Macarthur, "And why balliantine doth he aberjoin?" "Swindley Pu, thou knackshos verbalframe --- don't thy dizzards thou perbaforce-anoin! and frenzied be thy foodgje!" Cont Bostick did then gooj his fezzards bostly, and maplefest were all mool.
The brainy Gnussos was fedjed nurkloit with tenpatrick this defgook, but non-adjointly with cru. So the entire expeditionary team was sent to Bullabooloo to wash their hands with crostic rage but Arthur Macarthur fooled the grodge out of numastick-bothering stick and all was well. At least by parley and mocked by view!
SO WHAT IF DEATH SUGGESTS?
So what if death suggests....
Peace of kind?
Warmth of a season?
Hope annulled, yet not driven
to sense?
So what if death suggests....
Love of the other,
And a stolid repose of a kind
Desire - to have the whole
bloody thing over
So what if death suggests..
Entirety not yet entire
and a balmy sea
covening for truth
death is not the end,
But neither might death have
any beginning.