never the right time

a moment named out of its place
not for our mouths the sordid verb
all emptied of its once-bright grace
a moment named out of its place

we aren't the ones who have to trace
the roots of this quite fragrant herb
a moment named out of its place
not for our mouths the sordid verb

punching in

our lives are governed by the clock
and though we hate we must obey
upon each heart there's a time-lock
our lives are governed by the clock

we aren't prepared for too much shock
but feel refreshed by normal play
our lives are governed by the clock
and though we hate we must obey

history class

no message comes from distant past
our hearts are broken by that news
into deep sorrow we've been cast
no message comes from distant past

we fear this sign will be the last
but none will hearken to our views
no message comes from distant past
our hearts are broken by that news

exploring the record

history tells us what we already know
the figures of the past are shadows now
we turn to metaphor each threat or vow
into their hearts we cannot truly go
time's movement always seems too slow
we want to understand to see just how
each one stood tall and did not deign to bow
but all that's left's a kind of puppet show
what once was thought the plainest fact
now seems another shadow badly cast
changing with each movement in the breeze
faced with this past we each abandon tact
asserting that our modes of thought will last
and history smiles she's always such a tease

Classical music

Here an old mill-pond,
a frog jumps in from the shore;
water exploding.

Water in stillness,
amphibian's swift entry:
silence is broken.

Even in my home
surrounded by my people
I long for my home.

five miles from malvern

we reached here in the middle of the night
our beds were blankets laid out on the floor
the place seemed huge and heavy in the light

the day began and it was hot and bright
at breakfast we would ask for something more
we reached here in the middle of the night

i knew that we were in some sort of plight
but what it was could never reach my core
the place seemed huge and heavy in the light

all those around me seemed like men of might
only one of them was known to me before
we reached here in the middle of the night

at last we set out though little was set right
we could not tell the rich ones from the poor
the place seemed huge and heavy in the light

memory recalls just wonder and no spite
morning would come and we would find the door
we reached here in the middle of the night
the place seemed huge and heavy in the light

all upon the square

movement of cloud across the sky
in afternoon we hope for peace
birds in and out of the vent fly
movement of cloud across the sky

each of us our true trade must ply
each batsman stand up at the crease
movement of cloud across the sky
in afternoon we hope for peace

at hours like these we hope for time
to do the things we know we need
the sun has fallen far from prime
at hours like thse we hope for time

to deny this beauty would be crime
on this soft light our hearts must feed
at hours like this we hope for time
to do the things we know we need

words fill my mind and will not go
each of them messages of light
this afternoon time will move slow
words fill my mind and will not go

there's so much left we have to know
such matters are not ones of right
words fill my mind and will not go
each of them messages of light

and now we come to the best game
one played with magic thoughts and words
not one of us need take the blame
and now we come to the best game

our futures are not calm or tame
memories glide away like birds
and now we come to the best game
one played with magic thoughts and words

the freshest shoots proclaim new life
the eye is calmed by sight of green
with thoughts the active mind is rife
the freshest shoots proclaim new life

calm is desired in place of strife
all that we covet can't be seen
the freshest shoots proclaim new life
the eye is calmed by sight of green

music replaces thought with speed
our hearts are filled with magic sound
our minds rejoice at each met need
music replaces thought with speed

we move at once from plan to deed
each of us stands on friendly ground
music replaces thought with speed
our hearts are filled with magic sound

the power that comes from each pressed key
fills normal hearts with joy and charm
with inner light new truths we'll see
the power that comes from each pressed key

true folk won't serve on bended knee
but still will seek to banish harm
the power that comes from each pressed key
fills normal hearts with joy and charm

at points we'll pass far beyond day
not one of us but knows what hurts
we're all at one with mud and clay
at points we'll pass far beyond day

who knows the sort of thing we'd say
if truth and honour came in spurts
at points we'll pass far beyond day
not one of us but knows what hurts

in time we'll come to the best place
from which to bring life to its height
our hearts are filled with their due grace
in time we'll come to the best place

true love will rest upon each face
though all know that the weight is slight
in time we'll come to the best place
from which to bring life to its height

out of the shade

at times we wonder at the light
and how it changes what we feel
what truth we have is simply right
at times we wonder at the light

the afternoon is simple bright
and on the day it sets a seal
at times we wonder at the light
and how it changes what we feel

cage of ribs

a simple thing to write a word
we do it without any thought
for even though the act's absurd
a simple thing to write a word

the heart's a kind of entrapped bird
it will not give itself for nought
a simple thing to write a word
we do it without any thought

song of the cock-sparrow

i haven't thought about the proper manner
of setting up the fences and the walls
but am now ready to follow your banner

this journey is in need of a smart planner
but no one answers our desperate calls
i haven't thought about the proper manner

i don't have much more right now than a tanner
(although some'd say that was a load of balls)
but am now ready to follow your banner

the signal will be monitored by scanner
we'll catch the villains sitting in the stalls
i haven't thought about the proper manner

the coppers will say that it's not our manor
still i've been out there whistling in the stalls
but am now ready to follow your banner

into the vast machine we'll throw a spanner
we'll catch the boss out while he's in his smalls
i haven't thought about the proper manner
but am now ready to follow your banner

the days of decision

each choice that's made must mark another turn
there's nothing that can quite explain this fact
in every heart a secret flame shall burn
each choice that's made must mark another turn

at no point in the day will we just earn
enough to supplement the hope we've lacked
each choice that's made must mark another turn
in every heart a secret flame shall burn

on the job

the thought of work does nothing but annoy
but work sits there and it must soon be done
from duty we can but a short distance run
before we must our skill and thought deploy
we pay with work for what we know of joy
at times like this i'm not under the gun
and so can sit back and think of it as fun
although with words and concepts i won't toy
the sense i get is not of thoughts complete
rather i feel what's not more than a try
but still the core is sound or so i think
with turgid phrasing this text is replete
but time as is its wont just will not fly
i lift my mug i look up and i drink

at an oblique angle

at no time do we ask for ease
even in sharp clarity of morning light
when air the branches doesn't tease
at no time do we ask for ease

all is still there is no breeze
the forest's pleasant to the sight
at no time do we ask for ease
even in sharp clarity of morning light

practice maketh perfect

always we try to get the form just right
but errors seem to creep in just the same
we're trapped it seems in a sort of dull night
always we try to get the form just right

our hope and haven will be some respite
from having to keep playing a fixed game
always we try to get the form just right
but errors seem to creep in just the same

construction programme

whose magic hands have lost their touch
such tales have not been heard under this sun
you've never had good reason to ask much

we've never let the change out of our clutch
nor will we till the carpenter is done
whose magic hands have lost their touch

what's built we're told is a large bunny-hutch
if we can coax the wild ones in the run
you've never had good reason to ask much

when we've gone out we've usually gone dutch
strained choice perhaps but he has little fun
whose magic hands have lost their touch

the proper form becomes a kind of crutch
although we've never come under the gun
you've never had good reason to ask much

so in the end we haven't tried as such
a blow from the last master would not stun
whose magic hands have lost their touch
you've never had good reason to ask much

who listens

where no one answers at the call
there's never one who can explain
just who has had to rise or fall
where no one answers at the call

our hearts are just too cold and small
we need the counsel of the rain
where no one answers at the call
the reason at all times is plain

when the tune ends

watching the dance one wonders what he sees
at any point the movement makes no sense
we know the movement's due just to the breeze
and the leafy branches aren't heavy or dense
the cloudy sky does little more than tease
and to a cooling rain makes no pretense
but right now i'm not sure just what i need
certainly hunger matters more than greed

one who observes might think about the sight
of simple movement in the pallid green
it's clear enough to us who have the light
but in the dark we're not sure what is seen
danger won't come with falling of the night
but in the passive moments in between
at this we might complain about the fact
but then we'd be accused of wanting tact

the elements of power aren't just for show
when they are used they'll signify or mean
and let us understand just what we know
before they fade right back to the unseen
life's more than just a simple ebb and flow
understanding comes from truths we glean
our swift beginnings will soon be pursued
by those who want to crush the multitude

at times we ask for things that we'll resent
when we have got them and we'll want to cry
because we'll have misstated our intent
and every claim we make becomes a lie
too late at that harsh moment to prevent
the loosening of the most valued tie
the music that we obtain from each liar
will not keep us from falling in the fire

at no time would be want to hear the play
of thoughts and concepts turned into a dance
we aren't the ones who laugh at coming day
but fall when night comes into a deep trance
because of fear that we might lose our way
and we don't want to give up our last chance
the ones who answer aren't the ones who stole
but eagerly will take up their last role

again we're asked just what we need to do
before the house can rise and sweet birds glide
on rising thermals that will take them through
to places where the brave might fear to ride
our so-called masters haven't the least clue
of where to go and when they'll take a side
because when they've gone down into the field
they've not the least idea of who should yield

in proper time the music should announce
just who will come to take their proper place
justice will hand out to the final ounce
what's due to each and what belongs in space
our betters will not fear now to pronounce
just who deserves to win or lose the race
but at the termination shall pretend
they always knew the proper time and end

education

where walls are silent but the signs are clear
no one would wait until the fighting starts
or choose through obscure intellectual arts
to make the cost of justice seem not dear
instead we ask of those who are not near
just how we are supposed to play our parts
when none of us has truly known our hearts
and all that we have left's a sullen sort of fear
under such cloud the reply can't come soon
we learn our patience under no gentle rod
but patience we must have under this sky
and when the sun has fallen far from noon
and shadows lengthen on the swift-drying sod
we'll know just how and what's the truest lie

Brothers

under the mountain

these shadows were no warning in the past
and even less at time of solar height
so all our hopes will come to naught at last

we wait in calmness for the coming blast
each of us believing we're still in the right
these shadows were no warning in the past

not one of us has sailed before the mast
but still we're not astonished at the sight
so all our hopes will come to naught at last

far out to sea the fishers' nets are cast
the job's best done when moon is out at night
these shadows were no warning in the past

each watcher knows their power's unsurpassed
but nothing they say will ease our fright
so all our hopes will come to naught at last

the signal comes and reaches us so fast
that we are blinded by the sudden light
these shadows were no warning in the past
so all our hopes will come to naught at last

at sunset weatherbreak

aftermath of storm the shreds of cloud
move swiftly through the clearing sky
light fading but bright enough to read by
the heavens this evening are a torn shroud
there's no one there no normal crowd
we see the bright birds despairing fly
in the west the sun's ready now to die
everyone's soaked and none of us are proud
across the barbecues we see windows gape
where storm has entered to play her game
but none has come to fix or even see
this tropic weather is a wild sort of rape
it leaves exposed the things that will most shame
and from its presence the wise always flee

The graduate

My library

the tree of liberty

if we can answer why must we then ask
those questions to which others must reply
that's not our purpose nor is it our task

rather we seek with soaring hearts to fly
above the common herd and claim our place
where none can challenge the well-spoken lie

not one of us who could with honour face
the grieving mother or the bereft child
instead we order them to know their place

our response must come in words that are mild
that make a show of regret and of ruth
so that we make our questioners seem wild

as long as we don't have to tell the truth
whatever lie we make should sound sincere
if not the editor's at work in his small booth

so set face solemn produce a simple tear
there's nothing like eye-water for a mask
and tell the grieving that you hold them dear

speak in high tones of duty of a noble task
that leads to danger but that must be met
and ignore all the hard questions they might ask

keep your mien sombre and your brow set
into a visage that indicates deepest concern
and hope that they will all too soon forget

all of the waste and come instead to learn
that you are wiser that you know the way
and if they suffer well then it was their turn

their fortune is to bask within your ray
you know the way that things ought to be run
this is your moment your triumphal day

before you're turned to ashes by the sun

the price of knowledge

what's been done gives the world its shape
there's nothing here that we don't truly need
yet every one of us seeks in vain to escape

most of us will if we have to bow and scrape
we always seem to lack the proper speed
what's been done gives the world its shape

each of us in our minds will breast the tape
instead we pay attention to each screed
yet every one of us seeks in vain to escape

we sit each in our place with mouths agape
at each new horror each new proof of greed
what's been done gives the world its shape

the ship we seek has just rounded the cape
what lies beyond may soon our spirits feed
yet every one of us seeks in vain to escape

beneath each human face we find the ape
the monster that cries out in shame and need
what's been done gives the world its shape
yet every one of us seeks in vain to escape

no secrets left

were we to ask the sunlight for its name
we'd get an anwer but we'd not be glad
not when we think just what each likely lad
would think if he knew the cost of the game
our lives are caught within a single frame
and we won't miss the things we haven't had
but still we've not been driven wholly mad
we are not wild but neither are we tame
outside the smog turns all the green to gold
as false as any prostitute's smooth smile
but we aren't ready to regret nor rue
our minds can't process everything we're told
thought only travels in a single file
and we don't know exactly what is true
the things that stand or move in common view
can fill our hearts with warmth as well as cold
and every process takes a little while
and into one big bag the whole is rolled
from suchlike matters we wont' make a pile
nor find out what is old and what is new
but there's a reason for our stubborn choice
we see the sights and give them honest voice

we bin the past

at times we wonder what's beyond the sky
hard minds weigh down the lightness of each heart
if faced by strangers we'd become most shy
we're not the kind who can put on a different part
our lives we think are worth more than a fart
but each of us bewares the turning wheel
what we do here is more than simple art
our bodies' meat and bone but minds are steel

at best we know we can't do more than try
we may not finish but at least we'll start
and at the end we can't do worse than die
and when we're gone who could tell us apart
in life we'd make them sting and smart
brains would be puzzled bodies then would reel
such lessons we can still to them impart
our bodies' meat and bone but minds are steel

in their own fat they'll one day have to fry
we'll make them understand ere we depart
each of us hates the one who tells a lie
and we've not yet been thrown in the death cart
the teachings that we have we shall impart
and we believe the wild will come to heel
the lion will lie down with doe and hart
our bodies' meat and bone but minds are steel

prince you must know that we're sold in the mart
our hearts are strong but still they have to feel
that we have gone beyond the standard chart
our bodies' meat and bone but minds are steel

only a little light

on nights like this i know my exact worth
less than a penny and mighty dear at that
i've learned that all hopes and desires go splat
my sole life function is to provoke mirth
about my immense density and girth
i'm lucky i've got somewhere to hang my hat
and if i feel aggrieved well then by drat
like a hunted fox i'd better find an earth
so little time and then much less for joy
my part's been played and now i'm off the cast
the world will little note nor long remember
instead a bright and shining little boy
shall tell me that my efforts will not last
and all my light will fade to one last ember

on the high moor

who doesn't find the truth has never sought
war after war the answer's just the same
true loser is the one who's never fought

between the standing stones of is and ought
we come to find that there's no cause for shame
who doesn't find the truth has never sought

we see the birds that in the trap are caught
we know which children have to bear the blame
true loser is the one who's never fought

we set the prizes won aside as naught
after the battle all things else seem tame
who doesn't find the truth has never sought

with clashing values all our days are fraught
we claim to be cool but we're all so lame
true loser is the one who's never fought

possessing self's the true last end of thought
we know the whole thing's no more than a game
who doesn't find the truth has never sought
true loser is the one who's never fought

crossing the main

none can ever tell just where matters begin
we're trapped at a point before things start
but know that if we lose someone will win

each message comes with its own rapid spin
truth's bought and sold at every common mart
none can ever tell just where matters begin

not one of us but has to face our kin
with none on the side there to take our part
but know that if we lose someone will win

in open ocean we note the rapid fin
the sharks behind the ship do thrust and dart
none can ever tell just where matters begin

the ones with the big teeth must always grin
they see their faces make our feelings smart
but know that if we lose someone will win

each thought of freedom turns out to be a sin
the harshest judge denies rights to the heart
none can ever tell just where matters begin
but know that if we lose someone will win

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Chaucer lamenteth the n00bs

Whanne that Septembre doth the summer ende
vnto the schooles the myriad noobs do wende;
they think nat of the trouble and the frette
that they will cause vpon the Internette.
In daies long past svch swaines wee did nat see
vntille they rechéd college or vniuersitie,
bot nowe at everich schole compvters waite
instrvmentes alike of childish loue and hate.
As sone as youngstre on the net doth logge
bot thatte hee (or shee) doth make an blogge,
opon the uuiche the bratte doth lightlie write
of matteres simple and of svbjectes trite:
howe one beth lamer, yet another leet,
and howe they never shalle knowe defeat.
Gentillesse and chivalrie do soffre rout
whanne these yonge men and women doe come out;
whilom there was on the Nette true cortesye
bot nowe gode manners doe from the Webbe flee.
UUee elders loke, and we ovre heads doe shake
and uuonder whether twas alle an mistake.
One thing there beth that doth drive us alle bats,
and thatte is alle those goddamned swivinge lolcatz!

fantastic voyage

what matters in the infinite deeps of space
cannot be measured by the normal mind
a monster lurks behind each staring face

in the beginning we might magics trace
and nothing mortal would we leave behind
what matters in the infinite deeps of space

a sort of ichor must our fluids replace
for a short period we'll be flying blind
a monster lurks behind each staring face

there's no great shame and no disgrace
in all the fear that turns our hearts unkind
what matters in the infinite deeps of space

each of us at the end will find the place
where no great forces will our spirits bind
a monster lurks behind each staring face

through tiny holes the silver threads we lace
already known are answers that we'll find
what matters in the infinite deeps of space
a monster lurks behind each staring face

getting on the road

what choices we have don't amount to fate
life's paths are many but few lead to ease
so lead to hells that either burn or freeze
while others halt at a locked high gate
and some are not built to carry any freight
some with great promises entice and tease
while others only masochists could please
too many options merely rub and grate
you'll find your road by both luck and work
you've got the boots and the prepared mind
for a long journey of both joy and strife
i know your soul you are not one to shirk
you'll not be daunted by the things you find
but know that there are no rehearsals for life

not all tears are evil

on this bright day it's so easy to weep
i try to hide the slowly-rolling tears
for once the meaning here is truly deep

not one of us has had enough sleep
time has moved so fast these four years
on this bright day it's so easy to weep

the speeches and the minutes slowly creep
like little creatures running to their lairs
for once the meaning here is truly deep

we're still and silent like so many sheep
chewing the cud minds on our own affairs
on this bright day it's so easy to weep

from time to time at the long list we peep
waiting for the turn to shout our cheers
for once the meaning here is truly deep

the journey's long the mountain is so steep
we're here to praise the happy youth who dares
on this bright day it's so easy to weep
for once the meaning here is truly deep

Rhyming exercise -- for Serge Mailloux

You wonder aloud about rhymes for 'bat'
a word, you know, that means quite a lot,
our language with rhymes is, alas, not fat
a rhyme for silver we have never got;
still, there's been considerable chat
defining words as either cold or hot
or saying a great deal in nothing flat.
To indite verse you have to pay your scot
for, if you don't, someone will surely rat
and make you throw your fine into the pot.
You'll never find a place to hang your hat
nor find a certain answer to the plot.
But not to worry, you'll have a lot of time
to craft an answer to this quite silly rhyme.

fresh woods and pastures new

a trivial beginning yet one potent birth
each body is so small so weak so frail
there's nothing like it we see on this earth

in its commencement there's a deal of mirth
and everyone adds their measure to the tale
a trivial beginning yet one potent birth

growth upwards there is and growth in girth
each one is different and none remains stale
there's nothing like it we see on this earth

from a small seed comes a tree of great worth
from this adventure none but cowards quail
a trivial beginning yet one potent birth

each starts adrift but each one finds their berth
against all fortunes we at times may rail
there's nothing like it we see on this earth

still every river comes at last to firth
the ocean lies beyond and all must sail
a trivial beginning yet one potent birth
there's nothing like it we see on this earth

arrival

journey over there's a proper place
where we know just what we've come to find
our eyes are open but our heads are blind
still this is a thorough occupation of space
we aren't sure what old lines we'll trace
the journey's always to the growing mind
each answer's honest though not always kind
the truth is not revealed in every face
and so we come and this is our position
wisdom's not learned but we may it acquire
until we face the one last open gate
there's room for folk of any disposition
players upon the lute or even the lyre
who know just what it is to beguile fate

for roger at graduation

there's much to do and no reason to pause
but we must go and say the proper sooth
be honest tell the plain unvarnished truth
and send him forth upon his lifetime cause
we'll hear the trite and much-repeated saws
the straining humour and the enforced ruth
the future we'll be told is for these youth
but you know best the value of these years
the friends the love the triumphs and mistakes
and all the things you've managed to learn
let all be weighed for soon will come more cares
youths do the things they do for their own sakes
and you will come to my place in your turn

colour of time

we must not fear the angle of the light
pines reach upward straight as poles
the colour of the moment seems just right

it's a small world that fits into my sight
the elements know how to play their roles
we must not fear the angle of the light

there'll be no grief at coming fall of night
the little beasts will come out of their holes
the colour of the moment seems just right

whatever happens will not be a blight
the earth is not disturbed by active moles
we must not fear the angle of the light

our hope and target will be to requite
those who have not achieved their goals
the colour of the moment seems just right

our sort of answer will not now be bright
the longest road will harden gentle soles
we must not fear the angle of the light
the colour of the moment seems just right

on the sandspit

it never seems to happen when we desire
life catches us out from the very start
we're caught between the water and the fire

our wishes are always to go much higher
we always want to take the central part
it never seems to happen when we desire

the leaders always preach just to the choir
with words purchased wholesale in the mart
we're caught between the water and the fire

our souls are trapped in a great growing mire
there's not a thing we're given to impart
it never seems to happen when we desire

we've driven our cattle right up to the byre
with rods and goads we swiftly make them smart
we're caught between the water and the fire

no one who listens has caught out the liar
their tale is rotten to the very heart
it never seems to happen when we desire
we're caught between the water and the fire

the land of gilead

the truth's been crucified in a god's name
all's in an uproar at the sordid news
delivered to the flock kneeling in pews
that makes it clear before was all shame
we were too wild it's just that we be tame
the censor will determine proper views
alternate versions will go up the flues
freedom and honesty must take the blame
for all that failed and now the realm of lies
enters its fullest glory we're set to learn
that ignorance and piety are the best
conditions that what we see with our eyes
may cause each of us eventually to burn
and all our lives are a mere moral test

the imperial burden

We know that young men and women go to die
in this dumb war, begun for no good reason;
their lives were given for nothing but a lie
but pointing that out is defined as treason.

Wherefore and why we may not now enquire
lest we find ourselves cast in a distant prison;
the problem is we're led by a blatant liar
who on dead backs to greatest heights has risen.

We're told he suffers when he learns the news
of deaths and woundings, daily ever more
arriving in silence; we're told these are the dues
of empire's glory, we have not hearts that soar

at knowing that we're doing our sombre duty
to save the lives of millions, or else to keep
great danger from us; sure there's some booty,
some stolen treasures, our soldier's don't sleep

on the job, they're normal working folk
and, if light-fingered, they've got all the right
that keeping us free from some evil yoke
allows them in the watches of each night.

Our leader knows all this, and suffers long
the pain of seeing others do the dying;
but this will serve to keep the country strong,
and that must justify the death and lying.

The time traveller's lament

When we make our journeys back to the past
it always turns out a far different place
from what we remember; it's never good to trace
just where the lure falls that we once cast
into the stream of life, such things don't last.
Instead, we're compelled to stand with open face,
eyes narrowed, vision focused on infinite space
but knowing that such postures do not last.
Were we to travel forward, to the imagined time
when all will be as once in youth we wished,
we'd find ourselves, in the end, able to moan
that it was not as we wished in our prime;
the waters are not clear, the river's overfished
and there's nowhere left to be silent and alone.

in the frame

where in the dance birds of pale green
do not quite fly but in their almost flight
show a calm grace in shade or light
we wonder just what all this might mean
branches that bow as to a mighty queen
and then are still and patient to the sight
their pallor accentuated by the white
blinds in the window all that has been
announced and measured here is how
we make life signify beyond each day
as voices call us back to normal obligation
there's not much we can say about that now
the time has come our regular dues to pay
before we're open to the imagination

the high decretals

lies that make us look our best
are the finest ones the almost true
we bring them out to public view
announcing that the servile rest
are here in honour of our quest
their oaths of serfdom to renew
while we who are the happy few
put their hard service to the test
it's easy to announce fresh lies
we've gone and told so many tales
another should matter not a bit
the word that we are heroes flies
to those who'd swallow even whales
and no one points out that it's shit

awaiting summer

we're safe when light and warmth combine
and we can watch in comfort from the shade
it's time for rest and thought and a little wine

messages may travel up and down the line
war may be halted for one last parade
we're safe when light and warmth combine

good order's sustained by pillars of plain pine
beyond them there's the coolness of the glade
it's time for rest and thought and a little wine

the vines and withes a secret may entwine
the best of nature by clean nature made
we're safe when light and warmth combine

such things as these are calm and good and fine
the work's all been done and tempers are not frayed
it's time for rest and thought and a little wine

we take the chance to show just how we shine
we take such matters and make them our trade
we're safe when light and warmth combine
it's time for rest and thought and a little wine

staying in the shade

no mention here of duty but we know
what must be done and still we shun
any plain mention of things to be done
and all the matters which we have to show
the options stand before us in a row
we have the knowledge but still we run
around in circles though under the gun
beyond us still there is a steady glow
at times one wants matters just to stop
for life to pause and give us all a chance
to breathe and think before we have to do
but life's not like that we work till we drop
the whole thing can be captured in a glance
and we must feel it all before we're through

the force of memory

the sounds of music go out to the night
distant dead voices living through the wire
a kind of magic this the electric fire
brings hope and passion as well as gentle light
the echoes that appear are soft and bright
the body not the mind will sag and tire
a heart that beats the notes of noble desire
catches the nighthawk in the midst of flight
what lies beyond's in shadow for these hours
a deeper darkness that hides under trees
softening rhythms that pass through air
we're too far out to come beneath the towers
but burning odours come upon each breeze
passion remains passion and normal care

an evocation

a shade goes up though night has yet to fall
the calm dim silence moves me to the heart
each has to answer when we hear the call

times might be different life might just appall
the actor might forget he plays a part
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall

the sun goes down it's golden fiery ball
will light the places where the day must start
each has to answer when we hear the call

i have to act but choose right now to stall
my life's been measured and sold in the mart
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall

i haven't spoken but i should have the gall
to state my piece and not to give a fart
each has to answer when we hear the call

thinking of movement will make me feel small
my worldly goods will not fit on a cart
a shade goes up though night has yet to fall
each has to answer when we hear the call

no paradox

there's time to pause and take a little stock
the body's faced the strain but may be worse
life comes to us with all the weight of curse
it can face hell but cannot withstand shock
we spend our days it seems right in the dock
with so much guilt and suffering to nurse
there's no real rest until we reach the hearse
and the penalty's contained within the clock
week after week of working and being wired
by tea and coffee till the blood's on fire
and now the pause that has been truly earned
we have to run the race till we're retired
and even then we'll pay for each desire
we enter water and we leave it burned

the oldest longing

a sort of knowledge comes with every pain
the body reveals secrets one by one
we long in drought for the reviving rain

there's much to notice that is never plain
things don't just happen when you draw a gun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain

to find an answer goes against the grain
you're not the sole contestant in the run
we long in drought for the reviving rain

small rivers make no currents in the main
the journey's finished before you've begun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain

we end the cycle but it must start again
what marks us most is what we will most shun
we long in drought for the reviving rain

in every choice there comes a point of strain
things are not lit as clearly by the sun
a sort of knowledge comes with every pain
we long in drought for the reviving rain

a distant fire

hours that pass are filled with things that burn
all is made grey with weight of soot and dust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

there's nothing here that we now ought to spurn
the truth's contained beneath the solid crust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn

the air with turbulence and hate must churn
we fear the outcome of the least sharp gust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

the ash that falls will fill many a large urn
flames far away produce their own dark rust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn

we pay a price to live and a price to learn
the thing turns out to be another bust
spring is now gone but we want it to return

what we have got we still have got to earn
we've not yet learned to be the ones to trust
hours that pass are filled with things that burn
spring is now gone but we want it to return

out in the haze

a journey does not end when you arrive
at what you think's the honest destination
the travel's not the complete dedication
you have to do much more than just survive
there are so many tasks you must contrive
to secure a just and proper allocation
of all due benefits and that's the concentration
that we must get if we wish to live and thrive
at some point we wander into the full light
and are caught wondering just what we did
to find ourselves in this unusual place
it's never about duty and not about right
instead we must uncover all that's hid
and only then can we hope to win the race

the magic of the lute

and right there near the city wall
unto your beauty fell my heart
nature herself could not impart
a greater feeling than my call
although each heart is meant to fall
that's just the opening the start
the rest's a matter of plain art
the troubadour down in the hall
singing knights of time long past
who named the beauties in the song
and set gay learning out in rhyme
far beyond memory they are cast
the journey back there is too long
and we no longer have the time

always things change

a different discipline another sort of act
no lack of choices but none are the same
we wonder at the nature of this game
which doesn't reward courtesy or tact
on minds with many questions duly racked
it acts to stimulate the hidden flame
and make the things we do not dare to name
but which provide the solid floor of fact
at times like these we want to soar and fly
but our dull feet are firmly placed on ground
we're not the masters of the upper air
yet we know that we must be by and by
to make a girdle the whole planet round
and venture where the eagles do not dare

It's just sarong

No reason for strife or for worry,
let's talk here of clothing (or curry);
be polite, remember
to cool wrath to an ember,
and if you get mad the word's 'sari'.

a glaring tropic light

what we desire is not what we may find
trees seem to wilt in the increasing heat
joy and exhaustion war in the normal mind

what's done is done and that's the only bind
that holds us here beside the glaring street
what we desire is not what we may find

the fruit's been eaten to its very rind
it was so very tempting cool and sweet
joy and exhaustion war in the normal mind

the task is over the work is left behind
it's time to soak my body and my feet
what we desire is not what we may find

the light's enthralling if you're so inclined
but there are things you might not want to meet
joy and exhaustion war in the normal mind

the weight of duties makes the best unkind
time moves in patterns that are rarely fleet
what we desire is not what we may find
joy and exhaustion war in the normal mind

dusty fate and spite

if what is made does not fully requite
all that's been done to keep alive the fire
we'll blame it all on dusty fate or spite

day follows day and also darkest night
while messages are rushing down the wire
if what is made does not fully requite

no one's been caught in this unworldly plight
we know the sort of thing that will transpire
we'll blame it all on dusty fate and spite

our purpose might require a better site
which will be seen without study or ire
if what is made does not fully requite

advantages come easy but they're slight
compared to blessings of the lord or squire
we'll blame it all on dusty fate and spite

the proper setting means that things are right
we've got the notion and we've got the fire
if what is made does not fully requite
we'll blame it all on dusty fate and spite

graduation

no clouds no shade just the full sun
students and teachers in cap and gown
happy parents come from out of town
this stage on their long journey's done
and now they must begin their run
all smiles no one's allowed to frown
we listen to the costumed clown
tell of great battles that he's won
another year another time to start
pain long forgotten in the general praise
a precious moment to rest and unwind
secrets stay hidden in the beating heart
while youthful voices in the anthem raise
and this is visible even to the blind

natural life

name it and it forms
spring light and shadow give shape
to newer monsters

again and again
clouds above take on new forms
almost by magic

the youth who watches
imagines many places
in the most fierce hope

so long the journey
agony of bitter time
but sweet this climax

blow trumpet beat drum

there are times to grow and other times to fade
but in the middle there's a different time
when you're the centre of the big parade

doing your best your creations are well-made
you need not wait for the last bell to chime
there are times to grow and other times to fade

it takes long effort but you make the grade
the mountain's steep but you know how to climb
when you're the centre of the big parade

at times you're wild and then you are quite staid
you know the whole thing's just a pantomime
there are times to grow and other times to fade

not with great fanfare are foundations laid
it takes much effort truly to mix the lime
when you're the centre of the big parade

the sun's so hot you really long for shade
but you can't pause before you're past the prime
there are times to grow and other times to fade
when you're the centre of the big parade

on dune and headland

shake out the flags and let the chants arise
there's nothing that can halt our upward move
we are the righteous ones as we can prove
our power and glory reach beyond the skies
our vengeance far above you soars and flies
the greatness of our leader high above
outshines our enemy and for his love
no one will count the myriad shining lies
there is no reason that one could believe
our strength will falter and our glory fade
till we are one with empires of the past
we always will rejoice and rarely grieve
our foes will be forever in our shade
and our realm's empery will last and last

the sailor's return

the image can be set in words that burn
with clearest light and do not need a shape
that's odd or twisted the simplest turn

will do to set the limits or cut the tape
you get the vision with the shortest run
of language the ship goes round the cape

into new seas and on the distant beach
a girl laments for lovers who are so far
that neither mind nor voice could ever reach

perhaps a youth who's been summoned to war
or a stern husband who's gone out to sea
she hopes for messages or swears by a star

that she will not be angered will let him be
whatever he desires just so he stays
beside her and does not think to flee

there's hope here for the older settled ways
the certainty of seasons the sure ward
of centuries of practice but in these days

when nothing can be certain is is too hard
to hope for vision that rewards the heart
no man or woman halts within their yard

distance and time will serve to keep apart
and no warm signals will come to this land
although within the messenger's fine art

instead one seeks the best that comes to hand
she is not sure but she knows that her wail
will break the hearts of those who understand

she is not waiting in the hope that a sail
will break horizon and that her lovely boy
or man is watching from the ship's fore-rail

(the kind of love that ages cannot cloy)
her soul is part of a great human choir
that best expresses desire and great joy

at knowing that there stilll remains a fire

watering sunday

a single diamond caught by the plain light
no magic here but water and clean air
there's but one way to get the thing just right

the morning's one that's dry and sharply bright
we have so much that falls under our care
a single diamond caught by the plain light

all life rejoices that another starry night
has been passed by and this day seems so fair
there's but one way to get the thing just right

we catch the redwinged bird in sudden flight
its motion seems to show panache and flair
a single diamond caught by the plain light

wisdom will grow in angry time's despite
if we do more than simply stand and stare
there's but one way to get the thing just right

such simple matters yet they all delight
not one of them that hides a bitter snare
a single diamond caught by the plain light
there's but one way to get the thing just right

unchained this moment

enough that we cannot speak here of time
the matter is one that can truly frighten
the journey's one continual upward climb

nothing is here that a little fear won't brighten
someone would notice if we were to weep
and things are not run by the admirable chrichton

we can't explore unless we go real deep
that's going to scare the ones who truly speak
they'll soon be forced to retreat past sleep

not one of us who isn't at bottom weak
this is a fact that none but you can take
for we never find the things we truly seek

it's always hard to distinguish real from fake
in order to make haste we must move slow
(and this assertion sure is no mistake)

the river that has the most restrained flow
waters more plants than the fast-rushing stream
but in its passing we can see no glow

not milk for us nothing but the best cream
we are the masters of this tiny space
and our forbearance has been an empty dream

give unto us the matter we most desire
we will assert that we have the best right
beneath us glows the last most baneful fire

but we are not the children of the light

flattery

there's nothing quite like winning a great game
the prize is more than mastery it's really grand
you'll have gained true control of sea and land
and all the world will bow before your fame
this makes all ordinary life seem poor and tame
you are the one who will things understand
the greatest power will lie within your hand
and all will bow to you or cower in deepest shame
there is nothing here that matters more than this
to have won all and to have risked so much
for such a victory makes you a special case
ignore the losers who can only weep and hiss
all of the earth is there for you to grasp and touch
and even the sun must glow less than your face

passionate intensity

the measurement of light in the still air
an art perfected by the best of men
vanishing past the point where any care

the morning like most mornings is set fair
outside i look for robin or for wren
the measurement of light in the still air

little is given but still there's some to spare
the greatest flight's beyond the normal ken
vanishing past the point where any care

far from me now is terror of nightmare
the monster still may lurk within its den
the measurement of light in the still air

for a brief moment i may sit and stare
my mind will concentrate upon the pen
vanishing past the point where any care

we're kidding but we're kidding on the square
there's no chance we will see this shape again
the measurement of light in the still air
vanishing past the point where any care

once there was wilderness

step by small step we mark the proper places
these tiny touches make matters true and real
it's not just knowing you see we have to feel
the ownership and lordship of these spaces
each person seeks to leave their honest traces
down on the floor you sit or else you kneel
to rest and listen and then to make your spiel
while simple light plays on our waiting faces
the words mean something but we can't yet grasp
all that is signified by such coherent sounds
as penetrate our minds as now each waits
for that fresh moment when everyone will gasp
but not dare pass one metre out of bounds
carefully watching just who comes in the gates

no memory and no regret

there are no spaces for new life to breed
under these shadows we abandon hope
the message is too blatant to soft-soap
there's no reason for action and no need
for anything but wailing vultures feed
upon the scraps of life lying on the slope
we will not struggle and we cannot cope
the words are there but nobody can read
let us begin the dance and let the line
slowly begin its exit from the scene
while numb the audience sits on its hands
what's left will crumble under the cold brine
beneath the sun slowly will fade the green
and silence will be lord of all the lands

the living stream

had we the story told both rich and deep
we would not now have access to the light
but still we have our honesty to keep

the richness of the colour outlasts night
whatever comes will not be only ours
still there is joy at presence of the sight

there is no legacy of these plain powers
at once the movement seems quite correct
just hidden though are many lovely flowers

the worshippers belong to no known sect
under their flag there's never any fear
the shouting and the cries have no effect

each of us knows just how much to bear
we have no guardians and we must climb
each single day until we've made a year

but this is no simple matter of mere time
though life be short the living is quite long
to celebrate and cheer it is no crime

so much is here that others might deem wrong
and yet we do it that's the point of all
our plain doing and the rest's for song

we journey upward though we fear to fall
nothing here can challenge our desire
to answer joyous the direct and noble call

these hopes and principles will not expire
through every vein the happiness will run
we've faced the night and the most dreadful fire

and now we each stand laughing in the sun

no ceasing from exploration

under strange skies there'll be no thought of home
the pioneers will have no focus but next year
no need for memory when there's a present fear
but life won't last long when they're huddled under dome
on this new planet they've got so far to roam
before they test the limits under this fresher air
and have to settle down to normal work and care
and make the best use possible of rock and sea and loam
there's hope of finding atlantis or our alien brothers
hope too of creating what can't be found on earth
but what matters is that in our first astonished glance
we grok the strangeness but don't call for our mothers
instead we ponder the meanings of a second birth
and how in this odd place we make a human chance

the stuff of legends

with no concern for what is still to come
they climb the mountain seeking a new flower
those who observe from the last elven tower
have yet to calculate the aggregate sum
of human miseries that leave mortals numb
but cannot be relieved through elven power
beasts that from immortal beings cower
are not by men and women rendered glum
still there's a tale that hasn't long been heard
about the one who dreamt a golden thread
from plain to mountain in a simple line
that would have been unmade by a harsh word
but frightened beings ominous and dread
to creep back under the dark worried pine
until their master could some strength refine
and to a greater action each monster spurred
out of a light made more of dark than red
above their heads the sable-coloured bird
cawed once but still no goblin ever stirred
while our brave heroes drank the summer wine
we know the story but we will not here wait
instead we hurry to praise and applaud the great

a kind of evolution

the moment comes of nature at her prime
when all we do adds to the the honest whole
that outward glory that all know sublime

to find true honour's certainly no crime
the sun illuminates both leaf and bole
the moment comes of nature at her prime

in truth we've found a perfect human clime
where light may comfort both mind and soul
that outward glory that all know sublime

we see the world act out a pantomime
of action and reaction pole to pole
the moment comes of nature at her prime

shadows reach out but do not the wall climb
whatever happens matters will just roll
that outward glory that all know sublime

each moment's stolen from the villain time
we're moving onwards to some noble goal
the moment comes of nature at her prime
the outward glory that all know sublime

the inner ear

another music fills the waiting space
all that we hear is taken into sound
we feel the warm vibration of the ground
the air is filled with power and with grace
the origins are powers we cannot trace
echoes from the distant hills rebound
a kind of glory fills up the surround
music and sight unite in grand embrace
an element that keeps us in a trance
but does not keep us from our truest goal
inhabits all the treasures we may find
this part of life emerges as a dance
involving all the body heart and soul
and all the magic sits within the mind

a sudden brief exposure

to tell the truth means more than speech
we ask what's done to make things pass
some law's best honoured in the breach

some say that glory's just past our reach
but we may still magic power amass
to tell the truth means more than speech

we hear the nightly watchers' screech
no matter then the gleaming brass
some law's best honoured in the breach

the winds at night both chant and preach
the message is both dull and crass
to tell the truth means more than speech

for justice we would all kings impeach
and hold to each monarch the glass
some law's best honoured in the breach

our duty here's to seek and teach
while breezes dance upon the grass
to tell the truth means more than speech
some law's best honoured in the breach

immortal diamond

those things are nameless that confront our hate
what we most dread we can with pleasure list
the least of tasks requires that we keep state

there'll come a day when the roaring seas abate
and winds don't simply blow nor twine and twist
those things are nameless that confront our hate

one who says no we can't just name ingrate
faced with our grinders the finest hope turns grist
the least of tasks requires that we keep state

the running tab's been long kept on the slate
the hero's moved from flushed to being pissed
those things are nameless that confront our hate

some winds are spirits that with dryads mate
their offspring we may see on nights of mist
the least of tasks requires that we keep state

our tales of woe and joy will in due time conflate
the muse of history strikes with a stony fist
those things are nameless that confront our hate
the least of tasks requires that we keep state

sping cleaning

almost complete the shaping of this place
the touches that will make it truly ours
outside we see the many passing showers
that help define the nature of this space
this is a stopping point of hope and grace
a neat result of our conjoining powers
a love that under the soft rain now flowers
will in our aging hearts set the proper pace
not distant yet so far i think of times
when we will have some rest and joy
with all that we in our lives have learned
a lucky distance modulates the chimes
there's not much here that truly could annoy
and much to do for which we have long yearned

seeking for lost times

we know the model doesn't always fit
light isn't a consistent natural fact
at times it is the thing we have most lacked
at other times it merely spurs our wit
some days are almost supernally lit
others with cloud rain and wind are racked
we must declare this with concern and tact
our hearts meanwhile shattered and split
there's something here that ought to matter
but we don't know just what we desire
and so we wait to see what will be made
our little skills the sycophants will flatter
we'll take the risk and go deep into the fire
receive the praise and then our names will fade

achieving calm

our soil is light and stony in it sweet flowers may grow
the trees beyond give shelter in weathers all the year
at home there's a rich treasure and we are free of fear
beyond our hope of harvest there's so much here to know
to give names is our duty and yet we've got to show
the powers that are beneath us the meaning of true care
as long as we have power we'll know how much we dare
some time we'll see the sunshine sometime the lunar glow
yet in the time we've taken we'll do such things as might
when all that's done is over give us much more to leave
to such as may come after and then we'll know our task
has been one of the fruitful then we may sleep at night
yet still there may be duties and we'll give one last heave
there will some day be answers and we may drop the mask

a sticky wicket

no wonder that there's never grace
in doing only what's assigned
the course of all that comes to mind
requires not just a simple space
the run-up sets the quickest pace
we're never sure about the kind
of power that makes us all seem blind
but certain that it has its place
no wonder that there are no sights
so wonderful as that final zone
where all of us can find some peace
these are the sorts of summer nights
when we are heated to the bone
and sharpened right down to the crease

no moments in the sun

there are no moments in the sun
for those who cannot do the job
the battle's neither lost nor won

always we wonder what we've done
to keep from expressing the sob
there are no moments in the sun

the weight of time will always stun
both the most humble and the nob
the battle's neither lost nor won

no priest or bonze no monk or nun
can give the message to the mob
there are no moments in the sun

we are not asked to greet nor shun
the ones whose hearts no longer throb
the battle's neither lost nor won

against the end there is no gun
not one who laughs but will then sob
there are no moments in the sun
the battle's neither lost nor won

ballade of middle day

clouds scud across a watery blue sky
you catch the whole thing with a glance
no birds at noon could ever want to fly
the sprinklers operate with elegance
there's nothing here that's left to chance
within we don't hear one false sound
good music the calm silence will enhance
each of us claims our little bit of ground

the rubbish van has now been by
i sit here thinking almost in a trance
there's so much left that i must try
travel once more to spain and france
write words that will my hopes advance
see what new chores will come around
in hope that we'll have more romance
each of us claims our little bit of ground

it's not a time either to laugh or cry
the thought of night must each entrance
there's never need to be snide or sly
no knight will this day break his lance
nor yet in armour take his proper stance
in hope that none will climb the mound
there's no steed here to stamp or prance
each of us claims our little bit of ground

prince these are no matters of high finance
we'll not hear speech of dollar nor of pound
instead we've summoned all to the next dance
each of us claims our little bit of ground

a filtered light

what counts is not what we may think
day and night with mind and hand
we draw ourselves back from the brink

things vanish in a sudden wink
the standard message is so bland
what counts is not what we may think

the weight of life sets in the ink
still as we listen for the band
we draw ourselves back from the brink

ultimate search for the truest link
between the worker and the land
what counts is not what we may think

light does not seek the meanest chink
but illuminates the doorways grand
we draw ourselves back from the brink

thirst drives us to the clearest drink
that's all that we may understand
what counts is not what we may think
we draw ourselves back from the brink

one simple solution

do not remark each simple turn
nothing is here that we could gain
for all our effort might and main
the stone below us will not burn
it still rebukes us hard and stern
each one may read its message plain
it does not change for sun or rain
while we for quicker changes yearn
beyond this rock the branches sway
a simple breeze creates the dance
as formally the long limbs bow
these are the signs of middle day
the birds and flowers all advance
the coming bareness of each bough
this is the signal we'll see now
each course will join a common way
though children in the gardens prance
this and no more we can avow
all change we make bywork or play
our pleasant visions come by chance
they are what this life will allow
but there are other lights that come
and in their presence we are dumb

troubling brilliance

we face the sun in greatest pride
and are most humbled by the ray
that burns the eyes at height of day
the wiser cower and wait inside
each of us knows we have to hide
the air has power enough to slay
the light will serve in an affray
best let the lesser rumblings slide
shadows are sharper than a knife
no one with sense will walk the street
they'll keep a watch the while we sweat
but something's to be done for life
this is the chance for power to meet
and for the brave to take the bet

some higher vision

no matter how things make us weep
there's reason to keep on the road
the ending will be just more sleep

if nothing else the wound is deep
a demon makes each kiss the toad
no matter how things make us weep

upon the wall sad visions creep
inside each mind sad lights explode
the ending will be just more sleep

there's not a fact that cannot keep
we may yet strike the motherlode
no matter how things make us weep

they'll make a journey on the cheap
and hope there is no overload
the ending will be just more sleep

only a wolf knows to herd sheep
the flock must answer to the goad
no matter how things make us weep
the ending will be just more sleep

a flash of red

beneath my window a bird flies
the flash of wing betokens day
a symbol not of joy nor play
under the grim and filthy skies
the hope we had all winter dies
roots do not sink deep into clay
there is no hope of healing ray
another sorry day must rise
seek honest answers and they fade
desire for truth is not enough
behind dull clouds lurks no light
it's not much cooler in the shade
the reply that comes will be gruff
and yet we have the flash of sight

after the thunder

not enough to dance
the music must absorb us
spring is rejoicing

night falling a smile
last red glow of the sunshine
promising new growth

yesterday the rain
satiating the dry earth
was a great blessing

today the bright blue
seems more clean more fresh happy
a good thing for us

a proper victory

no one will ever forget the light
outside the leaves glow in the sun
the memory warms us at night

there's something that isn't right
or so we think before we're done
no one will ever forget the light

leaves shining fill our normal sight
on the grey trunks insects run
the memory warms us at night

each leaf must animate a sprite
darker spirits must day shun
no one will ever forget the light

no room for animus or spite
the heat must any anger stun
the memory warms us at night

no creature can deny the right
to make yourself the honest one
no one will ever forget the light
the memory warms us at night

giving an answer

we won't accept there's a dispute
between the wonders on each side
none choose which destrier to ride
nor what will vanish down the chute
no difference between man or brute
life is the same beneath the hide
blood cannot be a source of pride
but thought's the fount of all repute
light disappears with all desire
our hopes are focused on the sky
there's nothing here to hold us back
in every heart there must be fire
each of us overcomes the lie
and puts the torturer to the rack

prognosis

no matter what the time of year
the hills will dull in distant view
about such facts we will not care

though we must always sit and stare
this vision still won't become true
no matter what the time of year

a truth that is not plain or bare
turns out at once most false in hue
about such facts we will not care

the fence keeps stallion and mare
they will attend the proper cue
no matter what the time of year

remarkable that things stay clear
there's nothing here that isn't new
about such facts we will not care

regardless what the horse thinks queer
each of us must give time its due
no matter what the time of year
about such facts we will not care

the straightest path

these arcs of story are all in the game
what's not for sale has lost all worth
no one's been paid for burial or birth
truth's feet today are hobbled and lame
there's greatest eagerness to give blame
but of acceptance there's a great dearth
desire for better life must come to earth
still there is hope for this undying flame
pale blossoms lurk among the leaves
damp does not rise on days like this
heat makes the shadows deeply dark
not one who weeps and beauty grieves
the winds above us still don't hiss
while every arrow strikes its mark

reading the weather

an ominous dull red in the low sky
bespeaks a storm and doesn't only warn
but tells us that the very air is torn
in search of comfort now the swallows fly
nothing else moves nothing seems dry
the world regards us with unbridled scorn
another monster will shortly be born
the time of shattering draws nigh
we name the winds but they are never tame
there's trust in stone but even that may fall
what we can do seems little at this time
the whole thing's nothing like a silly game
what falls first will till now have stood tall
the hope we had is now fallen from its prime

my teeming brain

though we name fears they do not ever flee
minds have now fallen from their high estate
an angry tiger prowls beneath each tree

i could long view but never feel the sea
freedom began six inches past the gate
though we name fears they do not ever flee

with the stern voice we could not disagree
what mattered was what lay upon the plate
an angry tiger prowls beneath each tree

what we would reprehend is what we'll be
when all has turned to ashes in the grate
though we name fears they do not ever flee

our proper service isn't with bent knee
nor is our purpose merely to be freight
an angry tiger prowls beneath each tree

we all must do and not take time to see
no secret messages are left upon the slate
though we name fears they do not ever flee
an angry tiger prowls beneath each tree

cul-de-sac

the child that begged bread received a gnawed bone
and was told to be thankful that he was not dead
that he should cultivate a sense of proper dread
and let his heart lose warmth and turn to flinty stone
recollecting always that life is short and you die alone
the weight of centuries falls on each small head
gaunt despair remains triumphant is has never fled
a mind once hopeful becomes a killing zone
let there be justice and who should the whip escape
a proper punishment would come upon us all
there's not one here who could not understand
the reason why the monster shuns its proper shape
why the dead king returns each night to the mead-hall
or why the bitter sword will turn in its master's hand

what becomes clear

there are tales told that we must never hear
each case is special and that is the account
questions are never asked about amount
we weight of hope is what we cannot bear
there's more to that than freight of fear
another drought will stop up every fount
no desperate wishes could reality surmount
the darkness comes as it does every year
signs of a fading age we see on every side
bugles may blow but who will rally now
drums beat but no one came to march
we've had enough even for giants' pride
no one again can fulfill such a vow
under this blaze the very seas may parch

fragmentary

each moment shatters as we pass
day seeks to kill us with its heat
our very souls seem made of glass

to tell the truth might just be crass
our kind of people we won't meet
each moment shatters as we pass

makers of history come en masse
their bodies congest every street
our very souls seem made of glass

let each claimed victory surpass
the greatest admiral of the fleet
each moment shatters as we pass

what looks like gold is truly brass
the judge is lolling in her seat
our very souls seem made of glass

we're members of the fighting class
none of our foes will want to greet
each moment shatters as we pass
our very souls seem made of glass

before sunrise

never until this moment have we seen
the complete vision all that we have set
up not just for worthiness but to get
all that we make become again clean
before it we shall show the proper mien
no room in our hearts today for regret
we turn to hope what was once a threat
our hearts are high and our minds keen
a thousand years are not enough to show
what has been made achieve its flower
but long enough for memories to fade
so to our tasks again we have to go
to build the structure of desire and power
and put all previous history in the shade

at the border

the beacon dies a message being sent
cut off abruptly but the warning's out
these limits no enemy must flout
guns are made ready bows are bent
rage and anger so long caged and pent
are released now an enemy's about
this is the moment for the old war-shout
courage and strength again are lent
a ragged force against our power arrayed
has no real chance and they already know
but still they want a fight and they will get
just what they asked for we have paid
in blood and pain and they will suffer so
for this incursion they shall much regret