The Storm is Howling Through Tiflis

There’s a poem that goes with this:

A FOUND POEM. 

Entrails can be strung

Across centuries of crime

Illustrating

The appalling pedigree

Of spineless humans

Bobbing past

On the currents of convenience

Until they are sucked

Into the vacuum

Of the moon's eternal womb.

  

September 1980.

(Found in the first volume of Neil Oram’s ‘Warp’ trilogy).

Notice;  I wrote this poem in 1980, when I still believed in my ‘poetry’.

(Wrote – that’s a laugh, when all I did was take a short extract from Neil Oram’s prose, and chop it up into lines! But other people get away with this, so why not me?)

The first volume of the Warp Trilogy (which I found mostly pretty boring) was entitled ‘The Storm Is Howling Through Tiflis’. Tiflis is in the Georgian Republic, and is the birthplace of Josef Stalin.

Stalin is long dead, and his Soviet Empire expired over 20 years ago, but I fear that old storm is still howling through the world!

As you can probably tell; I was pissed off in 1980, and I’m still pissed off!