Dead Stars Flash Back. Poem Excerpt from Next Arrivals by Robin Ouzman Hislop

 	dead stars flashback         the rest must rise 
		to an unknown helplessness 
                    an earthbound memory 
                      savanna to tundra 
         each day                    a commanded homage 
		     to kao tao of fate 
		     to its fled ancestor 

      but i brimmed in apocalypse    under the welter of bones
	                yield to the inevitable 
	             in its charnel house brain  
          as panic stricken packs      sudden rain blaze 
                            an earthbound memory  
		         thwarted in its choked cry

    ancestor in its death     but inevitable     more than bones
		     sudden rain blazed dead stars 
	a homage to 	      until it fled	in its brain 
	each day commanded 	brimmed in apocalypse 
		to yield to the flashback with the rest 
		the welter choked cry charnel house

		      as panic stricken packs 
			  kao tao of fate 
                         savanna to tundra
	      i must rise to an unknown helplessness 
                      each day commanded of fate 

		     i must rise to an earthbound 
      memory to kao tao 	            yield to the inevitable 
    more than a homage to death 	to an unknown helplessness 
		     
		       brimmed in apocalypse

          i flashback 		         to my then thwarted ancestor 
          its choked cry 			      as sudden rain 
			  blazed in its brain 
	until it fled with the rest 	panic stricken packs 
			   savanna to tundra 
       under the welter of dead stars 	 charnel house of bones  

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

The Split. An Audio Textual Poem. Excerpt from All the Babble of the Souk


 

He knew not, he said, whether he was a butterfly 
	who awoke to find he was a man 
or a man who awoke to find he was a butterfly. 

To begin in the image, he kills for in his dreams 
	he wakes from half forgotten 
to the commotion of the day sealed by a story. 

To begin in the image, a view before the abyss 
	from old familiar haunts 
what clings, where there’s neither choice nor chance 
	yet beckons, to the impossible impasse. 

The Breach. 


Wu Ch Eng En descends 
	the mountain of the five elements 
bearing the moon as his lamp 
	forever grows longer, he muses 
leaving no footprints in the snow. 

	At daybreak the view is emptiness 
the truth of truth is its lie, he muses 
	to a lamp without a night. 

Wu Ch Eng En rested 
	to speak with the world on emptiness. 
He looked at the village’s railings 
	their fierce barbs pointing to the sky 

between which shadows peered 
	as if to promise through tricks of light 

Mystery but revealing only bondage 
	to landscapes in whose labyrinths 
you could believe you were in a place 
	you’d never left 
where to return was just deception. 

Must not you and i be inside emptiness 
	for we cannot both be outside 
but the world made no reply 
	lost to a fleeting memory 
that may never return or may. 

Wu Ch Eng En said 

	Day dreams the wandering mind 
as lonely as a cloud, flower and song 
	but not without blood 
the lifeless, Terra-Cota army 
	marches over our groundless days 
outwards from the tomb. 

Nature Thrives on Deception. 

Chuang Tze perched 
	on his usual precipice and reflected 
on to suicide or not to suicide. 

He recalled he had worn a dark suit 
	dark glasses, returned 
on a crowded summer’s night to a past 
	whose memories 
he could no longer remember 
	there he had sown his wild seed 
what had they come to now 
	but the way of all nothingness. 

There are those who maintain 
	creation is a purposeless drift 
those who maintain its entelechy 
	can simulate a deity of divine attributes. 

Chuang Tze  rocked to, fro 
	would not such deities grow perplexed 
about their state of affairs 
	traces of white fleece trailed 
across that blue emptiness called the sky 
	thus in that fall 

from that exalted simulation 
believe they were immortal souls. 

Chuang Tze said 

Even the wind is flawed 
	as it speaks through the leaves of trees 
the moment of history. 

Now caught in time evermore 
	yet the leaves belong to the branches 
to make small patterns in infinity. 

And we, where do we belong 
	with our swan song, as if we were going home 
the day after tomorrow. 

*(in homage to Ezra)
 
 
 

 

 

Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems. A translation from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae, the award winning (X111 Premio César Simón De Poesía), in November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds. UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020

 

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

Next Arrivals. An Audio Textual Poem, Excerpt from Next Arrivals Collected Poems by Robin Ouzman Hislop

Author’s comment: this is a technically constructed work from texts  both edited & derived from Yuval Noah Harari’s   Sapiens & Homo Deus  with interpolations and additions made by the author   (2017)

*

we invent them to serve us        controlling our existence

to create virtual worlds with hells and heavens

myths domesticate science

fiction and reality blur        shaping our reality

an assembly of biochemical algorithms      flash fade     flash fade

*

spinning

*

epidemic is business economy grows

human experience as any other item

in the supermarket a designable product

intelligence mandatory consciousness optional

individuals = dividuals

in carbon or silicon

*

owned by imaginary gods

who     what you are     how to turn you     on and off

*

beyond control

beyond

the opaque wall

algorithms can command empire

or an upper class ruling the planet

if words could make dreams come true

a simultaneous instant in the brain of seven billion

emerges the beautiful androgynous face of the serial killer

wheat eater          bread winner

*

& the deluge of data

millions of nano-robots coursing humankind’s veins

an Orwellian police state

splits into

the chosen hi-tech Noah’s Ark

a new religion information flow

Datism

A Brave New World

*

to merge or not to merge

the human genome as a digital processor

where overwhelming data

garbles the message in dystopian double talk

will the defeaters prevail

or cometh utopia from outer space

our post human descendants

*

do as you would be done by Datism

as we condemned the mammoth to oblivion

your every action

but where no human can follow or need to understand

in the matrix     the inter net of all things

*

where has the power gone

the cosmic data God draweth nigh

the great flow

to maximise    to plug you in    voters of the world unite

a colossus astride this narrow world

free market       big brother

watches over every breath you take

invisible hand that flies in the night

*

between laboratory & museum

voice of a million ancestors

a ripple in the cosmic data flow

shifts homo centric view to data centric view

knowing us better than we know ourselves

*

forager

scavenger of carrion follower in fear & flight

big brained

Neanderthal Denisovan Sapiens

what drove you for 2 million years

a big bum?

*

what bound

small divergent groups of differing tongue & taboo

into the framework of humankind

but fiction

collective myths woven into our reality

from money to the nation state

imprisoned

by the archetypes

we’ve identified them with          a virtual reality of cartoon molecules 

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Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times ; at Artvilla.com his publications include

All the Babble of the Souk Cartoon MoleculesNext Arrivals, Collected Poems, and the recently published Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems, as well as translation of Guadalupe Grande´s La llave de niebla, as Key of Mist and the recently published Tesserae , a translation of Carmen Crespo´s Teselas.

You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds)

 

Africa North Poem Excerpt from All the Babble of the Souk & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems

 

 
Solstice winds, rain return in spells
a moon waxes full, dogs howl as well.

All the babble of the Souk
men over there, over there women.

All the life of the planet
so little part of it that i breathe.

Weather beaten highlands, once passed through.

The river bed, no more like a parched bone
its late autumnal river meanders as a vein

past four reservoirs

a quest that will end in winter´s flood.

Between them are momentary mists
where brightly clad figures of the north, suddenly dim.

On the frontier’s beach taxis come, go
only the stranded remain, together with the seagulls
four men huddled, drenched in pouring rain
dead once more, again, all pathways home
washed away, again.

A broken song
remember me, sung in a doorway
brings the world at large together
as suddenly as it narrows.

Water runs on marble
nakedness revealed, nakedness concealed
form water words, water memories, mists, fates.

Veins wrestle the marble into mangled knots
blemished pearls on an implacable skin
shards leaving fragmentary traces
empty spaces awaiting faces.

Lights dance in the night, picturesque
“casas blancas del pueblo”
appear through the darkness
as the brush strokes of my mind steal the action of the shadow.

Mists cordon the mountain tops
guerdoned crowns like wreathes.
Ancient fields’ still colours surrounded
by burgeoning new lead to the valley below.

Old women, old as aglow, so slow they go
poised aloof in an untouchable world, trapped.

High in kiln firelight they cowl night’s shade
to oversee goats on the hill beneath.

Daughters of necessity naked in the rock
unleashed in white trefoil in the marsh
swamp of night rain, stark where epochs
sleep in their shadows

replication of memories, where the old
becomes the new, a world splits in two
with Morpheus in the breach.

Beyond control, beyond reach the erratic butterfly
flits bloom to bloom, the intrepid stalker with net
both captured in the mimic mould.

A knot is tied, a knot that wrestles
embraces, that ravels birth
unravels death & binds its existence.

Her face is as if a moon glazed over
with a less serene ceramic dust that in the end
after its perplexity contains its surety.

She draws her forefinger laterally across
under her eye lid in a smear
nor can you change the image of what you are
in the pupil of her eye.

Babble bodies blur
voices with their echoes down the street
sky high, prices fly

a bird song breaks, a splash charade.

Faces in the rain thin
weakness of watery years.

A winnowing canvass tosses corn
as fireflies in the blazing day.

The hag in her rags begs her bag
holding all shadows to account.

You sit in the solitary corner
at the empty dice board
to throw, as the music swells, as strings play.

On the washing line clothes of all shapes
sizes are waiting to be filled
suspended between earth, sky, where white sheets blow.

A twinge of nostalgia flashes
a link between a fluttering curtain
an open window frame, a sun shadow game

a flickering apparition pattern leaving only – strands.

A breeze flutters an open foolscap on the table
as though a phantom reader
should flick with regard through a score of notes
then stops at the first blank white sheets

stays, the moving hand that wrote, wrote no more.

On record, old honky-tonk goes on
amidst the heaps of consumer city sneakers
in the same dust where faces
turn from their spring red lustre to a sun soiled wear

through a beehive of alleys
names, aye to fetch them home again
as if where the countless dead resided, you’d said

in a market of women shrouded in shawls.

Berlin falls, Baghdad falls
all the years turn to further tears
further fears to merge with your voyage
the shape of dreams to come

to be only endearments of what has gone before.

A flower opens after a thousand years in a shell of tears
indifferent to its beholders’ sight
who paint it with the colours from the waters of their night

on an unknown shore, to whose sight it opened once before.

Children’s faces like radiant imps
play carefree in the streets below
overhead on red tiles, fat pigeons bicker, coo.

In an internet cafe, an Arab girl discrete in headdress
plays with cartoon molecules of Mickey Mouse
Koala bear

nubile women’s faces dream of nudity in their shrouds.

Wonky pinz nez specs, jumble sale clothes
bad teeth, unshaven grin
looking a faded duplicate of a down
out James Joyce with the come on
are you Irish, he asks
perhaps he was once upon a time.

They came through the cleft of the mountain
– where the river ran
to swim as a blur in the naked purple of the eye

on the mountain face there is a scar
once a sacred place, now extinct, as they are.

Yet wild still she runs, amidst the sheep, goats
toils at the hearth, dutifully bears children
yesterday she knows but not tomorrow
where she hides her sorrow

even as he ploughs the hillside
a photo will steal his soul, but his beasts will do.

Twilight’s girls, girls, girls
throng the bustling street corners eating caracoles.

By day the olive tree green in the blue sky of the window
seems almost immortal enriched with the blood
it’s enriched, now at its roots.

Costa de la playa, white beehives in the sun, all money, no honey.

In the broken lights of the bazaar
the dusky eyes of the beggar sunk in their sockets
maze in crooked cul de sacs embargo amidst
the furls of silk that foil the flickering lantern niche.

In the gloaming a solitary reaper reaps its shadow.

Streets packs ravage carcasses
at dawn, the city wakes to the city’s obedience
to obey its disappearing shadows.

A ghost city of watchers
watched as shadows by a memory that has outlived them
now fragments in an admixture of old, new

– amidst a junk yard of rubble
watcher shadows phased captive to their fading stories.

The street’s mechanics of the day
obey their limits, patterns of parts
where we end only to start in a series of nows

post mortem of the world at large
an autopsy of ghosts on the slab.

Born to see, in the boutiques people seem
like their own mannequins
existence is a mystery with no purpose

only we endow it with a destiny, it does not seek from us.

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems and translations from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae (the award winning XIII Premio César Simón De Poesía). In November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds, UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020.
 
 
https://www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
https://www.twitter.com/PoetryLifeTimes
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com . You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his
work Performance (University of Leeds)

Reducto Anagramatico Sunday Afternoon 1915 Wallace Stevens. Poem Excerpt from Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems by Robin Ouzman Hislop

 
 
http://www.aquillrelle.com/authorrobin.htm
 
 

 

 
reducto anagramatico sunday afternoon 1915 wallace stevens
 
come give balm to the gusty grieving
nights to hush day green the seas
for her dark oranges bloom an
 
indifferent inhuman evening
of cherished comfort and wings
like wide complacencies
 
but next moves in mythy gat motions
among any hind’s heaven or paradise
& cries cause the sun’s littering
 
our afterwards river sky relinquish
the mountains and whistle in her porch
death still the imperishable inescapable
 
for receding boughs to wear sleeplessly
the sun colours to hang of sky bosom
serafin plum the perfect rivers the hills
 
the lay sky paths that live impassioned
upon grass phrases in extended cries over
her peignoir and coffee upon blood calm
 
 

 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is on line Editor at Poetry Life & Times at Artvilla.com. His numerous appearances include Cold Mountain Review (Appalachian University, N.Carolina), The Honest Ulsterman, Cratera No 3 and Aquillrelle’s Best. His publications are collected poems All the Babble of the Souk, Cartoon Molecules, Next Arrivals & Moon Selected Audio Textual Poems and translations from Spanish of poems by Guadalupe Grande Key of Mist and Carmen Crespo Tesserae (the award winning XIII Premio César Simón De Poesía). In November 2017 these works were presented in a live performance at The International Writer’s Conference hosted by the University of Leeds, UK. A forthcoming publication of collected poems Off the Menu is expected in 2020.
 
 
https://www.facebook.com/PoetryLifeTimes
https://www.twitter.com/PoetryLifeTimes
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times at Artvilla.com . You may visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his
work Performance (University of Leeds)