The Poet of Silence

•May 9, 2024 • Leave a Comment
[Recent poem based on: K. Connolly, ‘Gulag survivors given voice at Venice Biennale’, The Guardian Weekly 5/4/2024, p. 19. Photo of Ogoyski's memorial tower in the village of Chepintsi, Bulgaria, by Lubov Cheresh. ]

The Poet of Silence
i.m. Petko Ogoyski (d. 2019)

I wrote a poem where Stalin was the Devil
sitting at the dead centre of this blood-red web
twitching with torture lies
informants’ eyes His Camp
squatted over the indifferent
mirror of the Danube’s eternal waters

I simply wanted to stay
poet or Muslim or Roma or gay

When I got out nobody remembered

Only surviving prisoners’ homes had
small spaces of memory sad
vernacular museums
while back in my village clocks continued
but words had stopped

I built a White Tower silently
pointing its finger at an absent god

Six storeys in each:

two daily chunks of stale bread
wooden clogs with hidden hollow heel
cloth harness to drag quarry stones
whip iron bar

silence






















How the Great Palaver began

•May 5, 2024 • Leave a Comment
[Wrote this poem exactly thirty three years ago in May 1991.]

How the Great Palaver began

The sky was falling down
boiling ripping
the seas rising

the Great Crab
eating our lungs livers
stomachs souls
our skin falling off hardening

our children slowly suffocating
our lifelessness overwhelming us
in simulcast waves of images

we ran to the boss
but he was in his bunker
counting out his money

we ran to the expert
but he’d left for Mars

we ran to God
who said ‘Even now
do I love ye so much
I shall kick away
your last crutch and blinders’

and dissolved
in a glorious Fire
of Unknowing

we knocked on doors
and people watched screens

we knocked on doors
and people said ‘How do we know
it’s really happening

and whether there’ll be
another place as cosy as this?’
even as the waters
lapped their knees
flames singed their eyebrows
bands played on
from their media rooms

but one said ‘It’s the moment
I’ve always been waiting for’
and another ‘Free at last
God almighty free at last’

and walls were falling
doors opening all over
some gingerly some fast

and we said ‘It’s here
what shall we do now
together?’

and eyes met
hands touched
excitement grew

and the world was within us
life was embracing death

and we knew
what we had to do

and the Great Palaver began

After all

•April 24, 2024 • 5 Comments
[Fairly recent poem. Image of smartphone to head.] 

After All

Another fine day after all
only moderate to high
fire risk UV extreme

five likes one crypto-
two disinfo- two porn-bots
after all the world’s richest man

is an autistic bot or maybe
vice-versa it’s fake AI
all the way down

the rabbit hole multiverse
smiling like a Cheshire cat
fading down a black hole

from which no meaning
escapes after all
ethereal machines talk

to each other in algorithimic
gossiping along under
the usual drivers money

power ego
passing on their viruses
shaking cyber-handshakes

no bots on social media no
social media not
to mention my search engine

getting increasingly lonely
confused trawling its lonely
lunar landscape clogged

with cyberspace junk written
by 30 buck assembly-line bots
coded by the precariat

of the poor maybe
there are dating apps
for lonely search engines

should search that
or get a bot to do it
after all

Freight trains, jet engines, chansons

•April 9, 2024 • Leave a Comment

[A fairly recent cafe poem. 'Firies' in Australia is the diminutive name given to fire-fighters, 'cap' is short for cappuccino. ]

Freight trains, jet engines, chansons

Now and again he’s out of his small-farm seclusion
of breeze and birdcall into café whirlbustle,
humans enjoying their 300,000-year-old exchange
gossip, germs, worries holiday and kid pics, patterbuzz
fused with faux-French muzak soupçon of chanson
subliminally enjoying their enjoyment
tapping away at lines on his phone, he knows
no one, unobserved (self-)observer
for the duration of a large decaff cap
he’s partial to this space for its virus-reduced airiness
indoor plants, multiculti staff the ceiling-high
wall of once-read books a warm room of memory
from another age before screens, before

the Fires. He reads firies battle blazes seven am to nine pm.
Twelve days straight. Australian wildfires sound
like freight trains. The Canadian like jet engines.
Roaring in for the kill we’ve caused.







































					
				

Small sartori

•March 27, 2024 • 2 Comments
[Recent double haiku. Another name for 'small sartori' in Zen is 'kensho'. Took the shot of sunset in a nearby forest regenerating from the Black Summer fires of 2019/20.] 

Small sartori


revealed by wildfire
now lost in dense undergrowth –
the monk’s hut


shotgun blast, now a
meditating assassin-
fly on barrel’s tip

Just Sitting

•March 20, 2024 • Leave a Comment
[Recent poem. Just sitting is known as zazen or 'shikantaza' in Zen.]

Just Sitting

just sit
facing blank
wall

no wall
blankness
contemplated

form
closest to the formless
one is

fore-
ground: back-
ground

wall
contemplator
there not there

cricket creek, frog
pebble-bubbles bursting:
one silence

Views from Trains

•March 18, 2024 • Leave a Comment

[Another train poem, a half-rhymed sonnet from last year. ]

Views from trains

are reality tv with engine rumble,
smell of plastic that doesn’t smell, humble
talk in the talk-free carriage
creaking its loud language of springs.

That rush of bush might be real as life
or it mightn’t, can’t fact-check things
through mirroring plexiglass wrecked
boredom’s scratched with a knife.

Three la niñas in a row, dams full
of sky blank as a screen
in a house with broken wifi.

Then, that paddock there, strangely real.
After thirty-five years I’m still giving
its lone white horse my apple peel.



























Great Southern Line

•March 10, 2024 • Leave a Comment
[Recent poem. Image of the line connecting Sydney and Melbourne being built between Moss Vale and Marulan c. 1860s.]

Great Southern Line

It shunts its way through our lives,
metal snake that spines the shire.

Here we're defined by distance,
acoustic assault by truck or train,

our village timed by the loud pulse
of the Great Southern Line.

Closer, it's shattering clatter-drone
of engine and track, further, drawn-out

jet-rev rush of surf building like Beethoven,
receding, disappearing back into the woven

stillness of bird-call, fridge-hum,
strange spherical emptiness of silence

fused with all
the fine subtleties of sound.




Bundanoon Primitive Methodists

•February 22, 2024 • Leave a Comment
[Recent poem about local history in my village. Photo courtesy of the Bundanoon Local History Group. 47 kids, girls and boys separated, two female Sunday school teachers. This original 1871 church no longer stands, but the subsequent 1880s one is Bundanoon's oldest building. The beginning of the poem is situated in England in the early 1800s. Bundanoon was originally called Jordan's Crossing.] 

Bundanoon Primitive Methodists

We stood reborn in spring’s thawing fields,
transported. Our preacher-man or -woman
spoke in our suppressed tongues.
Listening, swaying, our ragged boots

rooted down into rich ploughed soil
we worked but would never own.
Dark clouds opened under the mighty
power of high invincible winds.

Our preachers’ words were invisible larks
of the Holy Ghost released to settle
like soft flakes of peace in hearts
heavy with toil and dispossession.

Our Bible was the spoken word.
We called ourselves primitive,
believing our faith − female preaching
itinerants, meetings of thousands

unroofed, unwalled, open to sky
and the unruly fire of spirit −
the original message Wesley taught.
He said it was not, and disowned us.

Our disbelieving brothers were wrecking
looms, burning haystacks, sending landlords
threatening letters signed Ned Ludd.
The soldiers swarmed our restive shires,

red hornets out for the kill. Our old,
imperfect England was dying to greed,
Satan, the Moloch of grim new mills
that ate our women and children.

In exodus and rat-infested steerage
we fled across the endless ocean
to New South Wales and hope.
Sydney stank of debauchery and grog.

At Jordan’s Crossing we inhaled
the strange new scent of eucalypt
like a promise of something
we could not name. Cheap land,

mountain air, vast sky filled our souls
with a wideness we had not known
(though its many mists felt like home).
We cleared ground and wombat burrow

to found our simple church. Sam Tooth
felled and sawed the wood. Summers,
the timbers creaked louder than sermon and song,
a ship tossed on cicada-riven waves of heat.

Christmas, Carlisle lent his open truck
and laden with piano and perilously
clinging choir, we spread our primitive
cheer from house to house. Winters,

we buried ourselves in overcoat, hat
and mittens, imagining some other
topsy-turvy Christmas in June.
After the Boer War we returned

to the old Methodist fold, respectable,
primitive no more. For sixty-six years
our Lillian Calverley provided flowers
from her garden, played through

three wheezing organs and many
a member’s funeral,
wedding,
birth.

The Chronicle of Turbulent Times: 2023

•February 10, 2024 • Leave a Comment

[Last instalment of this four-year chronicle 2020-2023].

The Chronicle of Turbulent Times: 2023 (Continued)

The March 2023 IPPC update issues a ‘final warning’. It finds many climate-related risks are higher than previously assessed, that greenhouse gas emissions must peak before 2025 if the 1.5C limit is to be maintained (a window that is rapidly closing with that goal appearing virtually out of reach), that any new fossil fuel developments are utterly incompatible with the net zero emissions required, that warming of 3.2C by 2100 is projected and is the ‘highway to hell’, and that ‘the climate emergency cannot end without addressing the inequalities of income and gender’ with 10% of households emitting 34-45% of global consumption-based emissions while the bottom 50% emit only 13-15%. It also finds that that 3bn people live in areas officially ‘highly vulnerable’ to climate breakdown and 50% of the world’s population is already experiencing periods of severe water scarcity.  Pope Francis issues an update of his 2015 encyclical warning that ‘the world in which we live is collapsing’ and calling for ‘irresponsible’ western lifestyles to change.

           Heat Records. In 2023, with global CO2 emissions at around 420.3 ppm and annual global forest loss at 4.1m ha (2022), and with another El Niño, nearly every climate record in modern history is broken and making 2023 another hottest year on record: global temperatures are 1.4 C warmer than the pre-industrial basline (up from 1.15C in 2022), total carbon emissions are c. 40.9 gigatonnes (over 1% higher than in 2022), sea level rise is at a record high (the rate in past decade more than double that between 1993-2002), and Antarctic sea ice is the lowest on record. July is the hottest month ever recorded over last 100,000 years, while September beats the previous record for that month by 0.5C, the largest jump in temperature ever seen. World oceans absorb 287 zettajoules of heat, an additional 15 zettajoules of heat compared with 2022 (the entire world economy uses only 0.5 zettajoules a year).  In July ocean temperature in Florida Bay is 38.4 C, possibly a world record, while Tunis hits 49C and a two-week heatwave in Greece is the longest in its recorded history. Places in Chile and Paraguay experience winter temperature records of 38.7 and 39.7 C. Cholera cases soar globally in 2023 to 667,000 cases and 4,000 deaths, and the WHO declares a grade 3 emergency, its highest internal emergency level.

               Flame Age. Canada’s megafires destroying 18.5m ha are the biggest in its recorded history and even larger than the Australian megafires in 2019/20  (with CO2 emissions of c. 2.4bn t, about four times Canada’s total emissions in 2021, equalling 5th largest emitter Japan’s annual emissions, and c. 6% of all global emissions this year); burned boreal forest and peatlands need at least 50-250 years to recover. Global wildfires added c. 7-8bn t of CO2 to the atmosphere in 2023. There are also large wildfires in Hawaii and southern Europe, extreme heatwaves in Japan, also severe flooding in China and India etc. Fire seasons are becoming ever longer (100 days longer in SE Australia) and overlapping in north and south hemispheres. Global wildfires are now the world’s fourth largest source of CO2 emissions, and vast forest tracts like the Amazon are thus turning from carbon sinks to sources and becoming a positive-feedback loop with climate disruption or triggerpoint to a new ‘flame age: with less time for regrowth between fire cycles, more CO2 remains in the atmosphere.

            Megamelt. New research in 2023 finds that on the current global emissions trajectory, Antarctic melt will cause a 40% slowdown of a major global deep ocean current by 2050 that could alter the global climate for centuries, accelerate sea level rise and starve marine life of vital nutrients. Another report finds that Greenland’s melting glaciers are losing 30m tonnes of ice an hour, 20% more than previously thought, and that 5000 km2 of ice has been lost since 1985; this additional freshwater (not included in current oceanographic models) might mean the collapse of the Atlantic meridional overturning circulation (Amoc), possibly already by 2025 in the worst-case scenario, disrupting global weather patterns, ecosystems and global food security (Amoc is already at its weakest in 1,600 years).

              Time is Up.  A 2023 report says we one species are monopolising 26% of the biomass produced by land plants (or 30% of pre-industrial levels), while only 10% of pre-industrial levels would be the sustainable limit. A 2023 scientific update of a 2019 report endorsed by 15,000 scientists states that 20 of 35 vital signs used to track the climate crisis are at ‘record extremes’ and in danger of triggering irreversible tipping points, that despite decades of warnings ‘unfortunately time is up’ and we are on our way to the ‘potential collapse of natural and socioeconomic systems and a world with unbearable heat and shortages of food and freshwater’, a world in which as many as 3 to 6 billion may find themselves outside Earth’s livable regions by 2100; the scientists urge a transition to a global economy that prioritises human wellbeing and cuts the overconsumption and excessive emissions of the rich, with the rich top 10% of emitters responsible for almost 50% of global emissions in 2019.  

            Climate Inaction and Toxic Subsidies. In 2023 the UN General Assembly adopts a resolution to seek a legal opinion from the International Court of Justice to clarify all states’ legal obligations to tackle the climate emergency and specify consequences countries should face for inaction. According to the World Bank, governments in 2023 are spending $ 1.25 trillion a year on explicit subsidies for fossil fuels, farming and fishing causing ‘environmental havoc’, and at least $ 6 trillion a year on implicit subsidies like waived taxes or the cost of damage caused by worsening air pollution and global heating; many spend more on these ‘toxic’ subsidies than they do on health, education or poverty reduction while the greatest beneficiaries tend to be the rich and powerful.

              Perhaps kicking off  ‘net zero’, ‘green-renewable’ industrialisation of remnant nature and the last relatively pristine ecosystems, in 2023 the UN International Seabed Authority gives the go-ahead for the first tests of a deep-sea mining operation aiming to exploit metal-rich rocky nodules on the abyssal sea floor; scientists and conservationist call for a deep-sea mining moratorium. Lunar industrialisation begins: NASA provides $2.6bn to survey the moon for resources enabling the building of habitable bases, while many private space companies also plan dozens of probes to survey the moon for resources in the next few years.  In 2024 a UN report foresees an increase of global raw materials extraction of 60% by 2060 (on top of the 400% increase since 1970); this extraction already causes 60% of global heating effects and 90% of global water stress; it counsels reduced demand, circular economy, just transition and notes our relation to nature “will be resolved either with collective wisdom and effort or in a hard and very painful way with conflicts, pandemics, migration.” The UK government hands out 24 new oil and gas licences in the North Sea, while Norway is the first nation to allow deep-sea mineral exploration.

         AI and Social Media. In 2023 more than 1,000 industry experts sign an open letter urging a pause in the development of AI, saying that if researchers and companies do not pull back, governments should step in. Generative or LLS AI is seen as a threat to hundreds of millions of jobs, education systems and to democracy by its potential for increased mass disinformation via avalanches of fake images, videos and texts. The social media-loneliness positive feedback loop is increasing: studies in 2020-21 report around 35% have smartphone addiction while a 2023 Pew Research Centre survey finds almost 50% of teenagers now  report they are online ‘almost constantly’, up from 24% nearly a decade ago; in 2023 US surgeon-general Vivek Murthy issues advisory on social media’s harms to young people’s mental health, while Stanford psychiatrist Anna Lembke calls smartphones and their dopamine hits ‘digital heroin’, and UCLA psychiatrist Hansen suggests ‘manufacturer-induced compulsive behaviour’ rather than ‘addiction’ as a descriptor for compulsive phone or videogaming behaviour. UK police use facial recognition to scan for criminals at the coronation of King Charles in 2023. The capitalist social media ‘influencer’ industry is now worth c. $ 250 billion.

            Synthetic Biology. 2023 sees the first creation of human ‘synthetic embryos’ or stem-cell-based embryo models to a stage at which a real embryo would implant into the uterus (side-stepping the need for sperm and eggs, these could also lead to the ability to grow organs for transplants). In a big step towards creating the first complex cell with an entirely synthetic genome, in 2023 scientists create a yeast strain in which 8 of its 16 chromosomes are synthetic, then make changes to prevent the possibility of the synthetic yeast outcompeting wild ones. 

           War breaks out in October 2023 between Israel and Hamas after the latter’s terrorist attack killing 1200 Israelis (almost all of them civilians) and taking about 250 hostages; Israel massively bombs Gaza (with the support of the US and the West) including civilian infrastructure, in collective punishment, putting Gaza under siege and perpetrating a crime against humanity, reducing Gaza to ruins, killing tens of thousands (mainly women and children), and forcibly displacing almost the whole population. Israeli nationalist far-right public figures call for the obliteration of Gaza. By the end of the year 83 media workers have been killed, 76 of them Palestinians killed in Israeli strikes on Gaza; there is evidence that the Israeli military has targeted journalists and their families and 19 journalists have been jailed (putting Israel alongside Russia, China, Myanmar and Iran as the worst jailers of journalists). Iran-backed Houthis in Yemen attack Red Sea merchant shipping. South Africa launches an accusation of genocide against Israel at the International Court of Justice, which does not order a ceasefire but accepts that there might be case and orders Israel to gather any evidence of possible genocidal acts and not impede humanitarian aid.

           The US, Russia and China prepare for the resumption of nuclear weapons testing despite the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty of 1996 (unratified by the US, Israel, China, Iran, unsigned by India, Pakistan, North Korea).