poetry

The Murk of Illusion and The Livery of Lusk are the only two pieces of my writing in existence to be considered poetry. Originally written in early 2005, they were intended as a polite encapsulation of the thematic content of The Emitron Micropaper. The clumsy use of outmoded language was contrived and littered with stumbling, archaic phrases. I felt it was far from the literary art it was supposed to be. Several attempts to withdraw these two rhyming works before it was published proved to be in vain. These attempts merely resulted in a complex wrangle with the members of The Emitron Art Group, and despite numerous impassioned protestations, both The Murk Of Illusion and The Livery of Lusk were published.
THE MURK OF ILLUSION

Artfully clasped behind vitreous vizard,
Four tuberous Manes, youths’ simpering visage,
Rubicund faces from siphon to stair,
Swirling miasma ‘mid greenish hued air.

From palisade walling near marginal innards,
Laggardly slung ‘neath bilious blizzard,
Daedalian arms occluded with lime,
Rubicon rootstocks cross, coil and cline.

Pure pliable pipeline; aloft ductwork, in vent,
Hermetic procedures, in garbadines lent,
From cardinal veins, to a smouldering mantel,
Serried conveyors lode embroiled quadrangle.

Guzzl’d supply via clear Perspex cab,
Cavort betwixt mists, and crass assonant gab,
Sop up! Be slaked! By thy lime-roiled loop!
Vexed by jade vapours, spent viridian goop.
THE LIVERY OF LUSK
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Under unwieldy clinker, hid a chamber of crates,
Of dials, bricks and bugles; rakes, chests and plates,

These Emitronian cast-offs, load fibreboard glands,
Where two spectral whelps, sift four pallid hands

Barge through pale cartons, and spill forth the save,
Achromatic & ashen; spoils sought, sullied and staid,

The bloodless concern, of legacyclical reforms,
Drives a toppling hoard, into ivory swarms,

Retrospectively riled, ploys set and restrung,
Armed with blanched prongs, milk chassises resprung,

Some chalky applause for artistic reversal,
From a filthy witness to their viral dispersal,

From a cavernous casket slip pilular plumes,
Of billowing whiteness, two electrolysed lunes,

An alabaster looper! Wrenched up and flexed!
That geometrid spanworm! A perpetual reflex!