I burn up easy
It's in my DNA.
I'm like Icarus's sun.
I'm more like Icarus's son
Hell bent on seeing hell
In front of me.
I don't believe anything unless
It's in front of me.
And I can taste it like food
And drink it like water.
I'm not Icarus
More like Sideshow Bob
Just helping the disaster move along.
Pushing the people I love into the fire.
Letting Daedalus turn his only son into a parable.
are you really a poet if you don't write about Icarus
The words brewed steam itches
Switches that are unexplainable
twitches of mortal flames
the ******* stones wrapped
like a newborn baby unknown
The look in your eyes is pale
the thought of you ails all flesh
in the window of my life
you have no place or reflection*
like blurred mirror of the unwise
Professors and supervisors
transcend and ascend crafted fibs
Is it too late to try and sculpture?
Refine you to a mastery of change
like a culture of spirits rising
I would like to hold you inside my all
in the softness of my brain summarise
a scaffold structure of analytical glory
I would like to caress you close to me
kiss the dimensions of the edgy thesis
a trifle of paradisiacal pleasure and taste
Should I try and see your worth in a system?
A world whose lease is an unending debt
Where we are human competing for labour
A world where we are slaves of economy
Where we hustle along the automated robots
*A world where ready or not we sink in demise
I just want to write but not you doctorate.
Making babysteps in human knowledge
Feeling fluttering in my ribcage
Helping to a brighter world
Teams of scientist roaming the web
The tide of progess flows and ebbs
Just to play my own small part
Brings me gladness in my heart.
Seeing how discorery works
The sweat and tears that ****
Struggling to be very thorough
Not to introvertly burrow
Meeting great minds giving talks
Learning how to walk the walk
I'm thriving in my favorite field
Like an orange slowly peeled.
“I saw my consultant today”
above the clatter of the Piccadilly Line
direction Heathrow Airport
“for my scan”
case I was wondering where she'd been
which I wasn't,
I was thinking about me
of a long weekend
When she moved abroad
it became a part-time thing
“Would you like to see these?”
she starts reaching in her bag
with the leather tag
retrieves an envelope
starts to lose herself
in some probably some work-related thing,
I turn my attention to Arsenal
was this the year they would finally make it
in the Champions League?
She hands me some items
black and white sheets
murky with shadows
“it's in the *****”
what's that mean?
Next stop: Hatton Cross.
I hold up the transparencies
you can see the London Underground map where the light gets through,
I would smoke a joint when I got home
when I dropped her off
“You're obviously not interested”
she snatches the x-rays;
suddenly I was
but it was too late.
© Gabriel K
Four years and plus I have studied,
Wanting to hear "Well done, Lad!"
Papers and books and Internet leads,
(Some I have even read).
My goal is to finish the final degree,
To stand with the women and men
Who doctor their classes for fee,
Philosophical women and medicine men...
Yesterday's morning came early and light
As I sped to the citadel towers,
Stood in a hallway at the end of the night
For minutes that ticked off like hours...
Then to the panel of erudite four,
Explained and defended my cause...
Stood in the hallway once more
Reading posters and climbing the walls.
The door latch announced the time was at end,
I turned my mentor to see.
"You did very well!" and out went her hands
To throw a big hug around me.
So in we two went and I faced the Chair,
"We're pleased to announce you have passed!"
I grinned in relief to find there was air,
And lungs to breathe it at last.
Numb and relieved, I shook hands all round,
Readjusting my sights and my plan,
Dissertation and frameworks, new targets found,
I left them with papers in hand.
Work in Progress....
"Just because you have a PhD doesn't mean you can't be stupid."
— The End —