ERSEWARD AND AFTER (A POET’S VOYAGE) by jim bellamy(after dylan thomas’s ‘Altarwise by Owl-light’) .
i Erseward and after, in the naveward blaze, The Nineveh of fables flapped its shrunken eye; Eden, wrapped in stammers, scored away its garden, And, from down the hills, the linnet swam the high Four ways of the mare, sat in its golden meadow, With the metronomes appealing and the clifftops bare, Flaring and rainy, where the appled widow, Who is the honey spider, whose mastery is rare, Fellowed her heroes and the driver of the fairies, Whereby the nails of Nero slashed away the hair And, ghasting, galoshed on a ruminative trumpet That, transcending, beheld an angelled fin, Capricorn and Cancer revolving in their antics, Snide-shorn and pullied in the Zodiacal Ind.
ii Crime is time’s saviour, the unit and the unicorn; The womb that pares the bud lies sailored in the tears, Knitted and steepled, where the humours of the lily Ride and rise aside into the spinney of the years; Child of childs and actor to the eyries in the emerald, Adam and Abaddon drive the series in the flower; Fuses flow from mammon,- red macadamed and summoned, Hero and Leander course down the ivory tower. Hair on head and after, funeral or master, Doctor to doctor, the chitters in the hour Fly the banded cricket from mantis man to wicket. Hemlock-hived and hymened, duteous come the owls, With Boudica and Judas hanging from a crocus and Romeo conniving in Hamlet’s cowl.
iii First there was the theorist, rippling with Homer. First came the purdah of thought and ideal. First came the comber of the prayers that murder. First came the bardic world of weals. Now comes the horned and skull-chimed apprentice, whittling the bull-bone as the cherry breaks, Winded world appeasing, and the hornets in their gildings Gashing and abashing into a cape of capes. First came the theorist, rippling with homer. First came the herald of the quietus in the mind. Now comes the stolid and banished ram of reason, And the winter in a sonnet that writes against the time. First was the logic of sacrament and rocket; Now the wolves of summer wreak away the spine.
iv What is the tumour in the shadow storming river; The sidler in a sigh; the son of eagled gender; Whose rough fearing shall the hills surrender To the timbre in the valleys of a wheat-shut eye? (Wraith of phallic age, the astronauts dissemble: Bubbling in their hate, the mortar men blow out). What is the member in a supranatural whimper; What the angel, what the wrangler, what the changing lout? (Wraith of phallic age, the astronauts dissemble: Music loses vision and the coiled stars dry). What mad mammal love is the needle in a candle; Which maternal measure hales the phaser in the sky? (Wraith of phallic age, the astronauts dissemble: Bibling in their wrath, the mortar men throe by).
v Mammary of ashes on a scythe-scorned razor, He who raped his mumma has a zen-skeined thigh: Spurned by molten manna, the wick of whorlds in hammer Anvils at the sun and rakes away the eagle’s pry: Out of crocks of nowhere, from the tides of crow-hair, Mystic thrum the fillies and the aimless damsoned shies: That mallow come the sparrows, marrow must grow fallow And chaffinch with the mimics of a warbling spy: Mary, virgin eyrie, must be scorned in theory That the fields of adam may smelt the semblers down: Hags that bless the lady must be burnt from maybe And the cryptics under ridgewood scorn away the town, Oven-head colliding and the trills of women bridling Banished in the pumpkins of their all-too-zealous crown.
vi Now sing hosanna for the fairies and their lammers,- Let the bauble breeder be sirened down to sound,- Past all riftward fate, set the shearer on the plate And the head beneath the rosebud underground,- Sing! now let the rod of Nineveh vibrate And the hellcats in their sulphur, socketted round, Run the rousting death of Helen anti-cherried; Come set the thrillers free that the metronomic sea Can tarnish; now sear that the ravine may not flower! Doom inside the skull is the slit of timeless murder; For rune and moon aside, god’s heroes run aground; Blown out of skull, god’s caverns come to master; Man and man aligned must fry to spare the town; Doom in the skull is time’s maficient martyr.
vii Crime is the wending demesne in the garden, The weaning whoop and the nature of the trees: Crime runs blindly, crime is certain failure, crime holds the gallows and crime bedims the seas: Bent like the willow, hurdy-gurdy minnows, Plashed in the transept, sweep the sirens round: Crime runs madly, crime unlicks the lady, Crime roams Eden into a hovelled ground: Bent on coming into a world of nothing, Bent and bent again on running evil’s sound, Crime is the traitor, the wrangle and the satyr, The sallow rage and rave of the ebbing lounge That rocks the rotten crucifix demented: Crime is the Herod in the tiers of time unbound.
viii From the high hills to the crescent in the window, From the oracular to the whittled verb of days, Out of a centaur came the horseman’s pedal That rode; out of summer there came a stave! And time lay roofed in nettled groves of metal, High and slandered by, on a kettled rose of graves, Rhythm all-appeasing and the active word of searing Shining down the hilltops and into heaven’s laves. Clockhands spoke to manna, were rented of their stammer And turvied round the handsomes of the haloed law; Nineveh decreasing and the musics in a ceiling Gliding out of sight into a revelled raze of ore; Time dying and water flailing from its daughter And signing on the line for crime and all its yore.
ix Let the graveward tailor lie naveward with his furies: Chapeline and maidened, may the bastard sailor split: Chanticleer is weathered! now let the rotes of pleasure Rake up their seagull gears and angle into pit: Crown of dawns and thorns in the angled spawn, Chanticleer and weather redeem all fulsome hates! Green is the beginning and green is heaven’s ending; Greenly wharve the waters and greenly spoil the lakes! Green is the beginning and green is heaven’s spleening; Greenly wharve the towers and the harvest under fear,- Toward the lap of fate flow the furnaces of Israel And searing come the scars of the all too empty tear,- Crime is neither manna nor toxic turning steeple,- Mannawise, the word is as poisoned as a sphere.
x Now the hymns are written and the law lies fairied. Ten magnetic fingers plant the heroed ground. Heaven lies contrary to the hellfire and its prairies. Rhyme and tide alike hereby entreat the sound. This is the hymen that opens for The Lady. Heralded by trumpets, the jonquilled angels sing! Heaven on earth is what the preacher’s story Rides upon this world of seraphs on the wing! Now the hymns are written and the law lies fairied. Ten magnetic fingers plant the heroed ground. Heaven lies contrary to the hellfire and its prairies. Crime and tide alike hereby revile their hound: And life, as lovely as life itself is lonely, Charms the sacred snake. We snap the town?
xi Crime is state and crime is molten master. Suffered by the seas, the flight of crime is round. Flare after flare, the hymnals in the chimneys Ride the slaughter boatmen into haloed mound. Crime is state and crime is molten master. Suffered by the undead crucibles of fate, Crime and tide alike row madly through the pasture. Flare after flare, the hymnals roll and rake. Crime is state and crime is molten master. Crime steers the orbit that makes the sirens bang. Crime is both a master and a cryptic fastener. Crime and tide alike trip greyly through the sand. Crime after crime, the runes contract their sentries. Crime after crtime, the sentries clasp the hand.
xii The voyage is over, the knaveward blaze distracted. Razed from darksome waters, the ship of time is troved. Snipped from the decks, the wrecks of blood and mortar Wind their rending ways into the hillside’s lobes. The voyage is over, the naveward blaze distracted. Crime after time, despising heroes smile. Snipped at the decks, the wrecks of blood and mortar Wind their rending ways into the hills of bile. Ended and after, opened by crime’s closing, Dowsed and regaled come the jewdrops and the rain: Crime and tide alike float wryly and reposing: Hammer into anvil is the music in the brain. The voyage is over, the naveward blaze distracted. In the shard-suckled hills, the slips of reason flame.
These Are the Ragged Men
these are the ragged men who dream of dead sleepoh, these are the cold women who scream under wheatthese are the flashy features that float from out blood-heatoh, these are the mallard daysoh, these are the smiles in graves
there are some pictures here that widen under laysthere are dud mixtures nearbyand, once cried, a sea of dreary eyes must send gladesto deformers of dead dreamy eerie wives:o, once aside a daddy dale, men saw eyries in skycome chanting a false mantra
these are the gabbard men who dream of dead sleepthese are the scabbard women who cream of heat
*there are moany moronic daddies here whose headless bedcomes revolving like a false killer-bathand, lo, where a manic mindist melts under craft then bedwill sunder drones with maskso there are moany atomic dummies here whose waxed headget shafted aside dolliesand a tweezy sneezer buddy gets led to huge hired brollies
these are moany moronic babbies here whose cradle-tredcomes sinking dudes aside bobbies as a naked heart-headcomes scattering mice across easy leado, a maiden to denuders flosses peasy bread wheneaters under blue darkness forces goofy sheds inside mien
uhthese are the ragged boys whose headed hooded old wifecomes crying after mum’s toys;and a holy curtain crashes across nude joysand a naked urchin easers soap aside dives when decoyscome rendering coasts as cold as families
these are groany demotic days that lead veins to bodiesoh, when faces flail, then a damager of red grain marriesold dead hands to absolved rummagersand a naper of a screw hammers fiction to wallers whenchanters reel painted manyana across lichen
these are our cupboard days where midnight races sendeaten riflers aside bladers of pearsand, once torn, tawny whisperers will capture steersagainst comforters of bunnies and butterflies; O, tearsget washed, and eyers of deflamers dream of spheres
*these are our mallard days where we lay love’s baby downo, these are our dullard daysand, once speyed, a bad rat on de moon comes using Downsto shelter heads under trayso, these are the mad days where we sink straws under townsla, these are our mallard days
and a hip in a glassroom gets planted in an able limb whendoctors arise from staffroomso-la, riders of guns use bald horses for rooms as groomscome swiping furs from closed dunela la, reapers of birds must send eyes to bedrooms
*oo, a blended bathroom appears cleared of bathsoo, a shended mask-room appears cleanses of baths,and a blinder blue shower comes rendering red craftswith specimens and vaultersand, la la, readers of jams get fed to heart-walkers
these are our mallard daysthese are love’s laden tea-trays that lend teary talkersto buddy broom-handlesla la, friggers, duned, bed angled angels when driverscome sweating skate-optics
oo, a rented bathroom appears cleared of soapoo, scented cunt-room appears seared of soffits;and as easy mind-sockets seem speared from dopethen sandals must render bedposts as dead as rope
*puckerers of iron lasers shoot cuffs from off twixed wristsla la, latherers, Zioned, scoot after lossand the promises of screens cause lips to crisscross tripsla la, candlers, Lioned, scoot after dross where lipsget routed under mental glued fire
these are out mallard days; O, these are naked rosehipsand, la la, a laden lolly lever comes spending lost shipsaside bone where kiddy drink stone; and ogled tits getsundering by: And bloody trinkets use flays for debt
*larded candy hearts hoop after massive mind-maidsla la, sharded sandy coopscome shining; and a dad at sea uses sails for rootsand, oo, mentalis, maimed, cuts vales from boots
larded candy harts whoop after rapid vapid gravesla la, entertainers to lousy midnights sear knaves withsalters of vinegars and green pigs; and deniers stripacross a strippered piss-stageand a laden varmint, ripped, raise radio from rage
puckerers of iron brothers shoot musk as age blazeso succourers of tigon mummascome swivelling across ligons when catty leadersget shelling hands and knees
lardy cocoa hearts cause everything to work wheneasy despisers get happily killedo, peasy mind-debts will kill the killed as womenappear sliced across venal wynded blue linen
pushers of blorted platforms pee across a smileissuers of aborted minds swarms reeds with smilesand, ahh, a naked nuclear favour must implode dials asheapers of liquid fevers don drag and shine for gas
larded, easy tweeters get twittered upon sex-glasssharded, easy weepers get tittering upon wide mastsand, la la, sweepers under pets getshining where no man whines; and issuers peckpled pelicans and honey
these dead days gets borne upon a crazy rillthese deadening dreams digtalis has uses drillsto deepen dogs with cinemas; and oded millscome shearing pugs from sweet-cock-cardand we wander through love’s head when spoolsget sugary for screws; and screwers feed stoolsto planers of puffers and blithe foreign schools
larded candy hearts hoot for toucans wherelashness, made dark, dines underneath grey hair;and dads leap across gold hairand mums mete loss to sold hair; and grey tearsget swillered around canny kine-hairand dirtying ground gets dammy for fay tears
there is a mad tale told by deafeners abouta bible-brother whose baptised canary routs dustwith idolisers and blue-beaded pink-bearded musk
*tricklers who urinate down chinos must abuse beds with staffsla la, ripplers who issue crownsmust share a sheared ear with a tea-townla la, rippers under dun sounds must abuse heads with raftsand, oo, we listen to wastegrounds when noosers of ear-pathcome shovelling mashy mons vagina to knitty gals; and soundget clamouring after actioners
larded lazy leopard-hearts get cardial under lyon leotardsand a candy cabler crashesand a randy fabler crashesand, ooo, as teeming teamsters track deaths down, then packerswill hereby surrender dogs to renal dick-ashes
tricklers who urinate down blind jeans must abuse legs with plastsla la, writers on stone-stormget forced to become bird-blind as a daffy diamate finger castsa bled boy from a bone-stormand, larded, a bed in an oven gets shitted aside tie-dyed cornahh, woollen dregs heap meat-pegs up very high.
Oh, a veiler of luncheons uses cowls to cock penile hidesOh, a nailer of unctions uses owls to crop penises; and tribeswill assign bonces to aromatic deaconsOh, a raiser of coffee functions will somehow murder gardensand, once car-crazed, a puller of dramatic walls abuses reason
trippers who swallow slit must render pythons cold as bridesoo, lacers of gallow-trips must render pylons cold as lives,and we grow, just like evil children growand we sacrifice dykes to devil semen where spermal crowsget clad in lost clothes.
and a heaper of leerers does its best king lear where toadscome leading sex to cremated chemical rogues
*scarf-burtheoned, a ladeller of leapfrogs turns timed turtle acrossa meddler of devs and cranerso, scarf-sirened, a riddler of dog-gods turn a star-burn acrossa peddler of divs and failuresand a locum to lost lowered faces dig amateur nurses wherea coda of cicada shades drags lagooners for faded eye-hair
scarf-surgeoned, a pisser of poesy must ride aside bruisersah, when a madam of a masted Venus drools, then nooserscome shearing hands from earsand, lessoning, a listening sky-spear drags dangerous Danielwith scuffed knees and scratched years
O, once along a wood-bine, tradlers of tawny tipplers will hita bunny bad brawl with florid emptiers; and cities under lipmust come to deride de woollen sex pond where eager shitcame cuffing saviours with brassic cake-walks;and i will come again into the green Zion of de waterbeadand i shall come once againbeside batterers of cod-rain
*Chapel of Love, cathedraline weft of widow;snapping as we snooze, the socket lover wails:Xanadu, no paradise, just masturbation in a window:sleeping under tundra, duvet thunderRails; rails as severed hammers bang in nailed masectomy,bang and bang again, with lover’s bed aMoon away: sleeping under tundra, denuding duvet thunder,Xanadu, no paradise, snores intoDecay.
Halo Heaven? then what for motile angels, what for cherubs, seraphs,what for Victorian War?No, less motile angels than strangeness being strangled;less the child made holy than murderOn the moor. though we are sure, our hearts go out on empty,though we are sure, our heartsRun out of heat. though we are pure, pure as passion’s enemy,denuding duvet thunder, theAngels’ hearts don’t beat…
*and what about teasing tipplers? well, i dare not sufferany obfuscated drink-crieso, as mental moose-soaks dress drowners under eyesthen benders of cat-sleepersdon a devil from a natal reaperand, la la, there is a venal tale to be told about lost tides;
there are busy slakers near who get used for murdero,there are easy impalers near whoget carted across cardigans and nuclear tubes: ah, isaw just last week, a darkener of a drunk womanbeing violently stabbed to deathoh, what now for drugs but fans and gloves; La, sex
savours doomed deniers whose headless heart-wreckappears valley-endeared to vaginal shit-wreckedclipper mindsand a tale gets badly told about damagers of swine
*This is the song of Los, the Blakeian Apocalypt, rather, this is shit-dip,the sheep demesne goneBlind: world under world, the weal of sex is Shibbolith: sex is daughterback,the nickle fish inBrine. searching for passion when all is Pornograph:Internet darling, can you tell me yourName? Duvet Thunder?! God knows, the best is lumber:all sex is spinal puncture, isPornosapphic shame.
Sleeping, always sleeping, doing our best to suffer,doing our best to wash before our bodiesFoul: Eliot, Sweeney – coconut will constipate – best to have no children thano wear an urbanCowl. true, pure, sure, how hearts reach out forever;each out across the void to find aWedded light! No, no marriage enters, just madness epicentre:the young reach out forEverything, reach out & touch the knife.
Denuding Duvet Thunder, sleeping insane forever,reapwalking like a terrorist, parading death inLove: no more, just screaming peeples, the pupils under seagulls,scavengers, destroyers, haters;Dementia in the bud.
Coming on hotly, red Woman earns her tampons,coming on redly, womankind is owned by all:Time was the girl of ages wrote love on molten pages;ime was once all love, now the heat of Love must
*oodles of vacant mined noodles get flayed under lobbiesoodlers of salted chip-murals get seasoned with rabiesand a fluking puked fly gets swatted byferine female zippers; and a wader in kind uses eyes tosnap an eddied slapper across her murdered cunt-ooze
oodlers of patient spined scruples get whipped under bladesoodlers of sugared slip-candles get entreasoned byferine cannine lips which lead lovers to true joys where drayscome sharpening a vixen with a romantic squirrel’seasy nut-shades
once along a time, a masoner of milkies made way for firesonce along a mine, a digger for easy glades made way forblenchers of cat-schoolsand eyers, ground from stools, will see American sex-warcumming through cool stools
and a peasy clampet naps for lady-livers whence whoresmust dampen her sex-vest before peeing for paid gorseand a damaging heart-nest grips to mass as melted saucecomes sidling unto a vast planet on lost moonOh, a cocoa father will know everything as a fotal horse
rides to country sleep.
*the campfires in demure grassy goosed heavens willrender rape as purely as glassy full-bearded ravensO, as we weave cunny from nasty Nazi heels then gardensmay well come across lungers of evil glaucous and ungentand a piercer under lossmust sink some fanny deepO, campfires found unattended aside of god-wood seemset alight by sealers of cremated flats; and a burner beamsdeeply aside reelers whose funny bones ravel under deans
O, as daisy rumours race for rain then phantastic dreamsappear to Arimethea as eagle-pain preys across beansO, we eat as we choke upon valved bake-bleeded cherryand, invoked with occultist porn, a faceless chewer of berrieswill have to foretell a sex-taleand, once tales are told to the old and frail, citadels in Walesget christened with easy milkO, scotland and ireland and wales rule versification
*Poetry and Science are very much the sameThe dichotomy is the dead Void between?