27 January 2012

proper lesson


the journey we've begun has no right end
or so we think since all our hopes are wild
for there are many motives we'll defend
though not all of our charges are defiled
by hatreds of the sort that you reviled
when speaking in plain justice of the fact
that none of us come through the world intact

each of the winners learns just how to bend
the moment that she stops being a child
while he who's wise knows best just to pretend
a temperament that's always calm and mild
just so the watching eye is safe beguiled
none of these matters is at all abstract
keep this in mind and you won't be attacked

not one of us can think now to depend
on those who might be honourably styled
our champions we can't call on one friend
whose name is not in the red record filed
to live full grown and not die as a child
that's all the purpose we will not be wracked
but others must be seen to live and act

17 January 2012

the occupation of the hour


what memory paints is never truly told
yet what we find are more than ghosts of care
since every sunset turned the green trees gold

we do our best to praise and not to scold
to bring about a time that is more fair
what memory paints is never truly told

there was less good in crazy days of old
when crudity and harshness were laid bare
since every sunset turned the green trees gold

we thought less then of hearts cruel and cold
ruling a world in fetters of despair
what memory paints is never truly told

but now the tale is starting to unfold
the outline's wholly visible out there
since every sunset turned the  green trees gold

there's no more talk of how much has been sold
nor or the price to put upon the air
what memory paints is never truly told
since every sunset turned the green trees gold

15 January 2012

distorting mirror


when the past does not fade and disappear
we're forced to confront it to face the pain
of solid memory to feel all again
within each mind something in the dull air
weighs down upon us with the weight of care
while every face reflects the groaning strain
and total terror that we can see plain
when nothing's left to mankind but raw fear
the once safe garden now becomes a cage
by our own efforts  for we are so dense
we cannot see the function of a wall
is to hold in not just to keep out rage
that justice functions better as defence
and isolation leads to the last fall

10 January 2012

those dead yesterdays


life is best measured by the hopes we burn
through those dead yesterdays none could forget
times when the fattest were the most sharp set
which ended we wished would never return
still this is what each of us pays to learn
from that hard teacher whom we name regret
the many ways that life is overset
and those lost gifts for which we will long yearn
so let the drum beat none of us will leave
without a turn upon the judgment seat
so we gain wisdom from the hard result
although our purpose was not to deceive
we're forced unto it by the long defeat
which strips us of all reasons to exult

08 January 2012

answering the tyrant


the thing's the same once you've told the story
putting the planet into normal mode
you've won power but never truly glory

you know it all is just transitory
each of us goes a short way on the road
the thing's the same once you've told the story

whether the ending's peaceful or gory
each must arrive at the one sole abode
you've won power but never truly glory

of no import whether whig or tory
for you the process is in no way slowed
the thing's the same once you've told the story

only message here's memento mori
the human network down to one last node
you've won power but never truly glory

answer now in words that are not hoary
explaining how you cracked the final code
the things the same once you've told the story
you've won power but never truly glory

01 January 2012

colour of morning


no echo now but in the dull grey light
see passing birds that pause and watch us feed
our satiated faces lacking need
or understanding in their urgent flight
of what exactly is the human plight
or when our hunger turns into stark greed
the passerine just seeks an errant seed
and a safe place where it can spend the night
the human does not show the passing bird
this truth of life that everything's the same
since all of us make up a single cast
we're subject each of us to one hard word
as players in the sole eternal game
each doomed to pass in time into the past