On Death Note (Spoilers)

I

Why, shinigami – you are sending L around the damn bend
he can’t see you – realm of the gods of death.

Things are going mad – the laws of death spin in a great car crash
of contingency – unending pile-up.

How were you to know – thinking you were bright – but god-of-death-dark
sinks petty brain glow in the deep, red, eyes.

Shinigami – red apple of memory – how death will not be
caught so easily – ‘according to plan’

[x x x x x] [x x x x x] [x x x x x]
[x x x x x] [x x x x x]

J

Careful what you do – cos god is watching your every move –
but why aspire to be gods – when you are one?

I hear the bell – yes unusually – come in out of rain
don’t believe my words. life is nonsense now.

Humans are not truth not perfect – they lie – I have no reasons
I could spell out now – I just know you are

Diabolical. I wash your feet – you who I know will end
this life – I will die but I will win – how?

I resurrect now in the sympathy, absolute, I have
with the life process which will avenge me.

K

I cry over my own funeral when – bored and walking home –
there is no device with a battery.

I imagine all tears, fallen and sounds in the dark chapel
of my grandma’s church. My grandpa cries too.

I hate death more than I hate any evil – for it underpins
all evil with means – with time, wrongs would end.

Empathy in a pathetic empty soul, glories in the
image of honour, in lieu of acting.

It’s when light kills L – he shows his weakness. True gods spurn revenge.
In Light, good’s hollow echoes, emptily.

L [You will pay for what you’ve done]

The absence of law as concept from the series of Death Note
vitiates Light’s view – Nature of justice

being an absent thing signifying, thus the complete eclipse
of morality in puritan sin.

The haute bourgeoisie reign supreme in realms of life and sharp-death;
a new god is, well, on the up and up.

This god is the class of young male and rich with supernature
on their side via writings of pure name;

a tall beurocrat of the spirit realm – if you break his line,
the line twists around – and tantrums hang you.

New Year ’17

The tv counts down to a slight delay.
The sun’s condensing hammer
And the earth’s revolving bourse
Sinking us like concrete pillars
Into the wet earth, grey and flaking

For one several second of time,
Some billion times, this second
Takes its place amongst the others
Crumbling under our thoughts

Each swollen moment by these alchohol lives
Is chorused with hoarse voices;
Burn’s burning words cut them
With a fine layer of flake-gold, gathering in tear-ducts, perhaps
to fall, or not to fall, and rest there aching;

Perhaps the year rang loss
Echoing out through companionable air
Dulling and blunting,
Til the whole resembled the part.
Perhaps you were uncomfortable.

Now metal-faced staring at the past to forget
Though it may be argued
The latter year fared little pain
Beyond the tearings of new news-paper
To our routine streets at least.

Tonight some of us take upon ourselves
The wrongs and sorrows of the earth
As if they were our flesh and blood
And they are.

So too are the vast outnumbering joys
from time to time to time each year which guide us
And a creeping enjoyment
I permit you to dwell on them.

And we can muddle
Til the morning, and the year fall full of clothes
onto the bed and black out
Again.