Human To Human – By Gavin Bourke

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Pic by Steve Johnson

 

 

Human To Human

Opened up a can of worms to spread over a beehive
lay on the warm molten rock split by the atoms from the air
acknowledged the rancour from the other side of a bus shelter
felt the visceral arrows through the heart from a place I have neither been or seen.
The objectivity viewed through the prism of an hour glass that led to a black screen
the lights go out one by one under the spectre of satellite imagery
beamed back through a rotating zoetrope of tremendous terror abounding.
Direct and indirect movements of the pen mightier than a thousand swords
there are now rules when negotiating with gun-metal pressed hard against the teeth.
The eye peers through a star down a periscope lit with an oil-wick lamp for company
what makes a difference when the puppeteers cast shadows with marionettes
controlled by wires against the cave walls when blades are exchanged after a power-cut.
The rosaries weep the virgin’s blood drowning out the ancient cave paintings
bore through with rhino horns after hunting them down as a tourist at the safari.
Antibodies shot down with immune systems to face the heat of the desert sun
in the light of the day with beards burning at calvary as the crosses fall on the crucified
taking inspiration from how oil cannot mix with water so it floats on the surface
calming the troubled waters as the tide comes in over the lines in the sand reaching the cliffs.

The sea-caves echo ancient songs and melodies of the spheres and heavenly bodies
astride the bay as the sink-holes collapse to the earths core absorbing the blood
from the infinite and endless strategies and counter strategies until there is nothing
only zero on the ground to remember retrospectively as we walk on the white powder
we need to make and break bread over millions of stone altars watching signs and symbols
of the idols painted into frames of theology, philosophy, theosophy and historiography.
We would take the wounds any day of ripped stainless steel cutting jaggedly
rinsing the soil with the ripe platelets that connect us all in our double-sided skin
stoning the immaculate on both sides of the golden coins we worship in exchange
that buy into the proximity to the equator and the geographical position
we lie in respect of this most unsolvable of equations between the cell collisions
that manifest themselves within that which we refer to the world around us.
As the phenomenologists just might spare us for the sake of peace, trust
and the binding shaking of hands that can be believed and felt
through the whole corporal structure so that the idealistic might witness
that most sacred and sacrosanct of the power of the word as it truly stands
where there can only be one truth emanating and amplifying
free of biases and eye shots of what is actually real and factual and can be counted upon
for the glory of a paradigm shift to equality as the robes fall to reveal
the naked bones of the dispensation of lies and untruths for a higher purpose.
Looking up at the stars aligning in commonalities among the binds with the transcendent
free of abrasion of the barbwire beings of falsity and the weapons of deception
that cut the tongues out of the skulls of those who have been drained of the gift of the spirit.

The sharing of tea around the tables as the clock ticks and strikes the lost hours
of conflict and the emergence of new sides that line up drenched with the reverence
of the creator watching on as the factories lines slow down until complete stoppage
producing no more than black eyes anymore from clenched fists wringing
that which is to be bartered with standing draped in sack-cloth
tied by ropes at the waist in knots pleasing to the eye.
When we see without throwing sand in one another’s eyes
weeping tears of mutual forgiveness sliding down the blade of a sword
we must fall on and take the pain and hurt of years of misconceptions
of only one truth whether it is examined by a telescope or microscope.
As the mirrors are smashed for good and the smoke cleared
to allow the light through to the heart facing a slower death
minding the greatest gift with free will mining all the way the core
where fear has no place to hide when the light of the sun
parts the sea and the sanctity of the miracle of birth is restored
with conviction without conditions for free will and freedom
when all is above ground and we walk hand in hand
for the greatest good standing shoulder to shoulder and eye to eye
in a space where money never matters
human to human.


 

About the Author

Gavin Bourke grew up in the suburb of Tallaght in West Dublin. Married to Annemarie living in County Meath, he holds a B.A. in Humanities from Dublin City University, an M.A. Degree in Modern Drama Studies and a Higher Diploma in Information Studies from University College Dublin. 

He is currently working on his thirteenth poetry collection. Gavin is also a multi-instrumentalist and has been a songwriter, composer and guitar teacher for the past thirty years. He plays Classical/Spanish guitar, acoustic-electric guitar, bass guitar, jazz guitar, electric lead guitar, banjo and bouzouki. He has written songs, music and lyrics, recorded albums, collaborated with many musicians and songwriters and has performed in venues all over Dublin.