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George Stal Poem
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cracks reminding us
a calender hangs silence
by all irony.
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Practice for the blind
circulation shutting down
shall twist towards plot
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Running for their skin,
civilised sugar paper ,
for response alone.
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Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
This caged sense within
Reason ; Alienation
drips along language.
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Scripted games of thought
caress the choke silk spin of
a BuckShot Stutter.
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Stamped as Oil Slick
crisis of existence ripped
thru circulation.
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Character Awake
and kept round like a corner
crash in pulp flat like.
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Flinch while the room waits.
Trail of pen following flight
form of some design.
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The stars submerging
called a new game by the heavy
smoke passing over.
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in a ruby sneeze
by the end of these lined days
strike calm circuit script.
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ado lines run on
these caricatures with much
wrenching of the gut.
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A mumble ; slightest
emotion in the corner
Presenting Pages.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
To be said
What are you look at ?
cutting down these days by
Mother board specification ...
... Rainbow shimmer Smirk ...
To be said
Above
or
below
we all crawl in the mud
trying to
remember those wings ...
Consuming when you laugh w-/ it
lost among ..
The rest of our demographic
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2010
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George Stal Poem
As technology has progressed , bound leaps ,
within the nanny state , Man simply sleeps .
Replaced Automatic ; Manual Labour.
Solved by Machine mind's , Binary No more .
For synthetic constructs for your whim , creeps
pumping cheese-its into bulging wheeze heaps.
So keep That lard thru blood , spotless , can ignore
such irritations as ; Clearing the floor .
While Digital duty serves ; watch those beeps
streaming 24/7 fiction keeps
sake in sight , forms pixel ; away those flaws
by Avatar's dream , away life's true claws.
While around , leashed , the world quietly leaps ,
Attended by metal hands ; Left
Man Sleeps....
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
It is not that I love you less
When first my lines of heavenly Joyes
made mention
through regions farr divided
see with what simplicity
see! With what constant motion
Philosophers have measured mountains
Man, dreame no more of curious mysteries
Oh wearisome condition of humanity !
Oh might Nothing ! Unto thee
O Joyes ! Infinite sweetness! With what flowers
Must I then see, with what busie heart
Heare mee, O God!
Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with teares
Busie old fool , unruly sunne
Absent from thee I languish still
O sweet and bitter monuments of paine
Out upon it , I have lov'd
Sweet day , so cool , so calm , so bright
where do these voices stray
like to the falling of a starre
Poet and Saint ! To thee alone are given
A ward , and still in bonds, one day
All my past life is mine no more
How vainly men themselves amaze
dazel'd thus with height of place
Here lies wise and valiant dust.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
That which would make me a cog in the machine ,
dragoon me into a lethal automaton
be left in the walls of sleep.
As the sun bleats in fear of crowds &
the sparrows call w-/in a ring of fire.
Let the world spin on thru space's
quagmire sinking ships in the velvet ink
on the writer's hand. Or let the
chase end w-/ hands holding crystal ducks &
chunks of lung, held by the prism of
your stare.
To dance swirling down the drain
as another matter for the brain to tick
as a clock tocks out seven days to review
& recall all infected packets of nurofen.
Prescribing Anti-psychotics for a mild case
of the flu while the fever dreams strike
drowning in clay & blank doll faces.
As my daughter will drink only the finest wine
& my son will make all the other children cry
w-/ the malice of his fingers.
In the first flash of a passionate love
affair , feather light, beating as two hearts
revolve round the moon lit stage.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
"and don't forget the pretention"
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everyone nodded along as
the first line Hit
cut w-/ Posh .. chugging
stars , throats end to end slit.
Schemes o'er everything
I realise now that you need
these 'things' ,
imaginary or other wise. Anything
to keep the Belief that
Life is worth living.
By their ridiculous Forgery
to emphasise insubstantial shapes , mutilated
text , colour & breathing connecting Heart
to Pen under strict obligation
to remain Nonsense
Above seperate Action.
I just want to be Honest
o'er the vicious Cycles of Trend
inspiring by reflection
We replace real life as we all
like Motion Pictures
Lost within Code
he might be you or me Beating
the walls as we try
out these twillight eyes switching o'er
to Terra's Remote viewing
zoom ignites thy Bone's hollow Fractures
happening, pure & simple , we errode
in a sudden glass moment ...excuse me
& my obvious slander .. Keeping it real may soon dismay
at a pulse of Cheekbones ; Paper artic traces flickering on
nervescreens before our pristine chords reciting
"Nobody's story" revolving round
nothing really ... simple words.
Oh Lord its so clear
All Places & All Times
its just us
trying to make faces in the sky....
and scream no more dropping
for
your daily optic reset calibrating
BRAND NEW
Our CCTV standard view
declining to smash utterly as Minute
Splinters
prevent such ink immediate
between Mind & Matter ,
Powdered Charcol , meaning the whole
Legal Judgement satisfied
Logic there in
Personal reasoning & Multi - simplicity
Leftscreaming up the curb
as if
you were just walking by... Society's Needs
cackling inhuman . Adverts scattering w-/ only One
Purpose rocking aby sentence.
Cast Calm to Create.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
Stay now with me , and listen to my sighs,
Bidding me to drain the curse and know it all.
Feigned that I spake ill of thee,
As to who beholds two currents thwart amid
the fluctous profound.
Pass , pass upon your way , for
I grow never old...and townward take to their
whirring flight. That o'er the green
cornfield did pass as I trembled.
Remarking how ill we are ; all
dissembled.
Hands, that the rod of empire might have
swayed, in one long yelllow string wound.
Tell how they lived and died
not heeding to the blight.
Dying in distant music, even as it came...
upon the fated night , gloomy encompassing
thee around.
And in the green underwood and cover, up ,
from the mystic play of shadows twining
and twisting as if they were alive...
Mindful the while that thus time flies for you,
That I myself was not more whimsical. Burning
more truely as it dwells, than
where the lights scatter amid two voices.
And all else is silent & perfect
with my choices.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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George Stal Poem
A Forgery of such style
In a touch shall call,
again, to sigh and fall.
To the Ageless Jazz leap,
'round midnight
A Generique Portrait
Consumed out of Love
Never wasting their pretentious time,
Claim to reveal your elite taste
True colours with bile chased
Poloroid of Authentic appearance
Easy to Fake
They talk all TS, Magic lanterns and
Michaelangelo
By public confession in Adoration of Dr Kaligari, The Somnambulist and stencilled spirals
That early editing, Knocking cells on continuity or giving the audience creative control in
image's connections. Montage from Intellectual graphic matching of Codename Saboteurs,
Features fading to their namesake. Emotional etched through out Vertov's Working
Documentary (“The Kinetic eye”? Following Moscow's Day by the people , early stop
motion as he explored Moving Image , Back when Trains sped at the audience .
Between these lines Hopefully a syllable address
of modest articulation.
For the Outsider , Crafting World by his Blend of Diction..
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2010
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George Stal Poem
Now ... tell me the truth at 80 spaces .
Oh yes monthly at no extracted cost ,
trumpet swans announcing "All-New" "Chases"
... Gameshow w-/ only purpose " Just stay lost".
scratch that ... start at the count ... three Faces.
flicker on screen , once more , spider webbed frost.
Pulse of cheekbone ; paper Artic traces ...
Hailing to the Fanatic's RoseArm crossed.
... Why just imagine , All times // All places ...
Daydream reality clearly embossed
by Our pristine chords reading "All's Debased" ...
Job to do ... hands join ... Avert as off tossed
I may stain ... lip gloss ... gulp of life wasted.
All Presents, Our Situation Hostage .
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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