a true enchantment

all explanations will seem too complex
unless we seek for hope within the shade
the thing that pleases us others will vex

we live our lives by means of pure reflex
the things that matter all too quickly fade
all explanations will seem too complex

our normal journeys turn into long treks
the half of us will never make the grade
the thing that pleases us others will vex

the act of thinking will most folk perplex
much clearer just to dance and wield the blade
all explanations will seem too complex

we feel the wind is cold upon our necks
and know that we can't choose the proper trade
the thing that pleases us others will vex

all of our lives resolve to work and sex
there's nothing else to pass through in parade
all explanations will seem too complex
the thing that pleases us others will vex

hoping for much rain

summer just too hot
we know just what we will need
the coldest water

promise of much rain
but none is coming just yet
thunder is silent

again and again
we watch the numbers rising
right up to blood heat

a sort of silence

a sort of silence falls upon the space
all that we want is not to have to hear
we want to keep the peace in this small place
a sort of silence falls upon the space

we aren't allowed a single moment's grace
nor can we set the bounds of what we'll bear
a sort of silence falls upon the space
all that we want is not to have to hear

heat index 105

light's a lot heavier than it looks
or sounds now in highest summer
it sits on every head and sets its hooks
light's a lot heavier than it looks

we can't learn any of this from books
all we learn from life is that it's a bummer
light's a lot heavier than it looks
or sounds now in highest summer

that hated freedom

a little clarity would make all fresh
we ask for truth and get a fleet of lies
our bond of service we can't criticise
for all we do we still are forced to mesh
our lives with your quite alien flesh
we're kept to it by a huge host of spies
the ever-circling never-sleeping eyes
assigned till death while we are still in creche
the world's become a prison with no wall
we call it freedom and in silence sigh
but all that's left to us is one small cup
we fear to climb because we risk to fall
we cannot challenge the most blatant lie
our only obligation's to shut up

eventually we reach the sea

the river flows and shifts its load of mud
against the current the wise do not go
some things retain the colour of old blood

i know that others worry it will flood
but this old stream is broad and very slow
the river flows and shifts its load of mud

a moment passes we know it was a dud
the ones who watch are not the ones who grow
some things retain the colour of old blood

we watch the stupid cow it chews its cud
high in the air we're looked on by a crow
the river flows and shifts its load of mud

the truth we find out falls with a dull thud
we hear the sound but do not feel the blow
some things retain the colour of old blood

the broadest leaf must start out as a bud
the ones who see this are the ones who know
the river flows and shifts its load of mud
some things retain the colour of old blood

a black cloud hangs

we wait and wait and do not see the stars
our minds are driven not by thought but fear
we know that all that you can do is stare

the storm has left behind nothing but spars
but we are certain that you still won't dare
we wait and wait and do not see the stars

the silent millions lonely in their cars
have nothing in their hearts worthy to spare
they look upon us and they do not care
we wait and wait and do not see the stars

but still no explosion

the fear that grips us has no proper base
we know of evils but they have no shape
our senses have been covered by a cape

the truth is not in some far distant space
we aren't so sure but that it's all on tape
the fear that grips us has no proper base

a kind of mask will fall upon each face
allowing us to lie and bow and scrape
a sort of fading sense of the true ape
the fear that grips us has no proper base

we know just what we know

the hour will last for twice as long
when we must wait and bide our time
the singer will forget the song
the hour will last for twice as long

we cannot compare right and wrong
but know that all life is a crime
the hour will last for twice as long
when we must wait and bide our time

the truest magic

always we need cash
the world requires full payment
and gives no credit

the only true lack
is felt within the real heart
but never the head

a magical hour
in which we learn the old truth
all that lives feels pain

a full recollection

what we must find is our most ancient joy
the thing that drove our happy younger heart
before the taste of life began to cloy
what we must find is our most ancient joy

i can remember that when i was a boy
i knew that i had more than a small part
what we must find is our most ancient joy
the thing that drove our happy younger heart

rediscovery

a sense that here we've found true gold
is seldom followed by the actual fact
we say this here not lacking any tact
but because such stories are much told
standing outside we yearn to be in fold
from our own power we have been sacked
but we must answer or else become racked
and make our fortune only when we're old
upon the wall the symbols are quite clear
signals from a happy past we must forget
burdens that we can't bear we must set down
another kind of tale in this strange year
allows us to compare the purpose set
and answer with a smile and not a frown

confronting reality

not one of us who dreads the fire
but has to brave it in our time
there are no gods upon the pyre
not one of us who dreads the fire

we each restrain our rage and ire
to tell the truth would be a crime
not one of us who dreads the fire
but has to brave it in our time

appearance

the world is not the thing we need
a shape of shadow falls upon each face
we know that we should eschew greed
the world is not the thing we need

we know that we must plant the seed
if we are going to claim our place
the world is not the thing we need
a shape of shadow falls upon each face

watching the day

a moment's pause within the shade
no hours will pass but we still wait
there's not a barrier nor gate
the street's the place for a parade
we want the world outside to fade
each of us looks for a true mate
but lacking that will not blame fate
we know we didn't make the grade
a sort of silence fills the day
not one leaf moves but still they shine
we ask so much of nature's power
so much to do so much to say
we cannot now our thoughts refine
but in the corner will not cower

deft we're not

a sort of answer we cannot hear
all that we want is in our hearts
we are the folk of complext parts

we can't be bound to what is dear
there is a history of false starts
a sort of answer we cannot heart

it does not matter far or near
the loads we carry on our carts
are lightened by surprising arts
a sort of answer we cannot hear

a broken crown

a broken crown lies on the floor
life continues or so we hope
we know that this is at the core
a broken crown lies on the floor

we cannot ask for an open door
we are supposed simply to cope
a broken crown lies on the floor
life continues or so we hope

liberty

we're free to die and starve and lose
and that is all that matters in the end
all life is concentrated in one bruise
we're free to die and starve and lose

we speak with joy of freedom to choose
and wonder why we're gone around the bend
we're free to die and starve and lose
and that is all that matters in the end

playing no games

the thing we never do is count the cost
that would bring pain and is not fun
on each dark stream we're turned and tossed
the thing we never do is count the cost

we laugh in horror at the things we've lost
and know that every day we have to run
the thing we never do is count the cost
that would bring pain and is not fun

all that fades

at one in the afternoon
solar whips strike ground
we listen for the sound

we wish for light of moon
which we know will confound
at one in the afternoon

rain cannot come too soon
to soothe the panting hound
and other's i'll be bound
at one in the afternoon

what can't be hid

a framing moment passes and we sigh
not one thing left that we could even take
the rain has filled the river and the lake
the green is brighter to the naïve eye
a kind of lethargy will my heart tie
i could not say that things were fine and jake
but soon enough i know the world will bake
under the blazing sun the flower will die
more rain should come and let us breathe
a cleaner air with better sense of hope
the day holds promise but we cannot trust
the trees and reeds the rising mist will wreathe
we wonder if the pain will let us cope
and if our joints will seize up with rust

At the end of June

We wait for morning,
hot, steam rising after rain,
green trees are glowing.

Outside the bluest
flower draws our waking eye,
such perfect colour.

I watch Mexican
roofers laying tarpaper
on the newest house.

A late breakfast is
the summer's finest pleasure,
tea makes me joyful.

I name this moment
the one that should never leave,
freeze now this second.

between the storms

a silent moment's worth a million tales
we ask ourselves just how much we would pay
to get what comes for free on any day
the thing that we want is the thing that fails

let all our hearts be turned back to red clay
and we'd not know just how much we owe
nor yet how much there still remains to know
nor will we start upon the proper way

at the appointed hour we'll see the show
we'll not be too far forward nor far back
not one of us will think we'd have the knack
just when to smile and when with hope to glow

we arm ourselves and think about attack
but aren't the ones who'll stand on the front line
our feet won't be blown off by a mine
nore will we think of those who wail and lack

as far as we're concerned the whole world's fine
and we aren't going to face the harshest pain
our lives are predicated on the steadiest gain
and we have no reason now to weep or pine

and yet we fear the ones who cut in twain
the knotted cords that hold us safe in place
we worry that we still can lose the race
and wonder at the long delay of rain

our minds are set to research and to trace
just what the start was of all this broil
we don't expect to find a foe or foil
but want to see all of you praise our grace

on these rough waters we won't pour this oil
the calm must come from some far different source
we ride the storm as others ride a horse
and laugh when any thinks of it as toil

upon these waters we must take our course
the journey with great fear and terror rife
will lead us straight to horror and to strife
and we will meet them with our fullest force

for in the end the one with the sharp knife
will be the one who lives the fullest life

the semaphore is silent

no word has come from that far distant place
where all our youth have gone in honour's name
and some at least for glory and for fame

rumour now speaks of failure and disgrace
but still we're told our young men bear the flame
no word has come from that far distant place

the smile seems pasted on our leader's face
he knows that he can get out of the blame
and those who follow have to reap the shame
no word has come from that far distant place

all the ages melt in anguish

in the days when we were trying
with some hope to reach the skies
we knew that some folk were dying
all because they believed lies

now we hear the same old story
and we don't know what to do
there's no honour and less glory
in this stinking devil's brew

in the distance we see fires
with their ghastly reddish glow
but our leaders the great liars
tell us that we just don't know

what the actual situation
is out there in distant land
how we must defend the nation
with the tools we have at hand

in the distance we hear noises
that proclaim the coming storms
we're told that dissenting voices
only injure proper norms

at the last we'll learn the reason
that the conflagration's spread
we will all be charged with treason
for the thoughts inside each head

there's no better time to speak out
as the sun sets in the west
our dear leader is a weak lout
and he's failed at the great test

Give me that FSM religion

All religionists get petty
when they see the great Spaghetti,
even Benedict gets sweaty
which is good enough for me!

Only some old Baptist poodle
wouldn't recognise the noodle
which the smart Bobby did doodle,
still that's good enough for me!

the calming effect of music

night comes but not on silent little feet
the softening of the light suggests an end
watching the shadows we observe the trend

when the dusk comes its passing is not fleet
light still may reach us just around the bend
night comes but not on silent little feet

i watch a couple walking down the street
on such regularities we have to depend
change comes and we choose to pretend
night comes but not on silent little feet

an interrupted journey

I

life soaks into the ground with water
but we don't see it happen in the air
the reason is not one requiring care
an honest answer simply avoids slaughter

the anguish comes when we are most fair
a hundred reasons aren't enough for some
who knows the words has no need to hum
but each of us must have the gift of flair

not all of us can without effort strum
the correct chords to let our meaning flow
instead we'll bask in the musicians' glow
and smile when we can recognise the drum

a host of us might think or claim to know
the best way to announce our several needs
we want the fruits but did not sow the seeds
and so we call on you to lead the show

the ones who judge have no time for good deeds
enough that each of us can feel the pain
no answer comes to us in language plain
we flounder in our madness through the weeds

II

a kind of plan might form in the best mind
but that's no help to us in these sad days
we seek to hide from the suns cruel rays
but at the same time fear being left behind

the ones who do not kill us know our ways
the cruelest treatment is the softest touch
the rabbit's kept with pleasure in its hutch
and all unthinking dreams its owner plays

we seek to stay outside the monster's clutch
but life will drive us and we cannot stay
our hope is to avoid the standard way
and hope that our owners don't eat much

we claim that we are not much more than clay
but in each hearts there beats a higher claim
that we know more than's good for common shame
and feel a truth in the hot sun's sharp ray

and what in the end matters praise or blame
our minds are set on an unwavering course
we won't deny the basic truths of force
but in the end we'll think it all a game

a matter of fact

if difference did not matter we would lie
the truth is always what we would least like
the other option's to get on your bike
and claim that you at least know how to try
however hard it may be to stand by
and watch as others the old buildings strike
you know that you have got to make the hike
the choice is always how to live and die
at what point will you learn just how to be
that is the question and the answer's wrong
it's where we're going that's the noble thing
the point of travel is that we don't flee
the trip may kill us but we would die strong
we simply must not hold the leading-string

glowing in the leaves

it isn't just a matter of good time
a judgment here is simply bizarre
down the sky's slope the sun must climb
it isn't just a matter of good time

we wonder at the value of a dime
a shilling these days will not take you far
it isn't just a matter of good time
a judgment here is simply bizarre

midafternoon

the sun's whole weight is pressed upon my head
the pushing of the light holds me right in place
the strain is shown most clearly on my face

under bright sky there's no true room for dread
but we are forced to act with pleasant grace
the sun's whole weight is pressed upon my head

i could have chosen some lesser task instead
of going out and searching in this space
i'd let the heat and light weave and interlace
the sun's whole weight is pressed upon my head

an absence of symbols

who knew the answer mattered not a whit
the flight of birds has much to signify
in shifting letters crawling through the sky
we can't perceive them not a little bit
it's much too simple to fall into a snit
and say that every claim is just a lie
we let the symbols and the meanings fly
the sudden silence means the birds have writ
a lot of what we know is not real fact
just dreams that we've mistaken for the real
magic we've found does not tell us too much
the truth has been scratched out and blacked
not one of us who won't in the end squeal
and leave the ball just barely out of touch

The universe

All that counts, all that is real,
is that we know just where we are;
in grave immensity galaxies wheel,
all that counts, all that is real.


Not one of us can break the seal,
in every single heart there burns a star;
all that counts, all that is real,
is that we know just where we are.

what has been sent

what handy chance we have now bent
all of our hearts are filled with light
to our faint hopes a strength is lent
what handy chance we have now bent

in time we know we'll strike the tent
and creep off silent into night
what handy chance we have now bent
all of our hearts are filled with light

lower mathematics

a number that means something to us all
each of our lives is caught up in the sum
with all its magic we are still struck dumb

a host of worries waits for autumn's fall
still all of that is paid for by the plum
a number that means something to us all

we each say we are ready on the ball
but cannot under pressure just keep stum
the loudest of us just runs home to mum
a number that means something to us all

we are the eschaton

a darker sun casts light of different hue
upon the world we see and apprehend
the sort of thing that's open to our view
is rendered most obtuse and may depend
not on our sense of what is fair or just
but simply on who gets in the first blow
all those who went before are now old dust
and we will be forgotten by first snow
but right this moment we know what is real
our eyes aren't dim and still our ears can hear
we can still comprehend just what's the deal
we can still prize and think our hopes are dear
the kind of light that we'll require for sight
is bright enough although soon will fall night

customarily correct

master confucius tells us what is rite
is the correct approach to all we do
but we must keep our families in sight

lots of old teachers chatter all the night
about the vulgar many and the happy few
master confucius tells us what is rite

and nothing's trivial seen in the proper light
each of us must our human sense renew
but we must keep our families in sight

the one who knows is properly bedight
but those who don't simply obscure the view
master confucius tells us what is rite

you wait for the proper river fish to bite
and all the while you hold your lucky shoe
but we must keep our families in sight

our joy in sacrifice is never slight
the sacred smoke rises right up the flue
master confucius tells us what is rite
but we must keep our families in sight

satori

at some late hour we recognise the bird
as waiting for our absence and our crumbs
it tells us this and we think it absurd
at some late hour we recognise the bird

i think and read and that makes me a nerd
at putting things together i'm all thumbs
at some late hour we recognise the bird
as waiting for our absence and our crumbs

allow us to observe

we know that facts are subject to dispute
but that can't stop us from asserting ours
we can't help being clever and astute
we know that facts are subject to dispute

allow us all the chance of good repute
and hope for fame beyond the furthest towers
we know that facts are subject to dispute
but that can't stop us from asserting ours

later to win

we play the deuce when others play the ace
our luck is good but cards don't come out right
we call a game what's just our normal plight

what joy we have when in each proper place
reason our careful plans will not indict
we play the deuce when others play the ace

only the rats can understand this race
it doesn't matter if you have the might
or if you can't tell day from night
we play the deuce when others play the ace

nothing too baroque

music expands the needy aching mind
we need the silence broken for our peace
something to ease the normal daily grind
music expands the needy aching mind

a magic sound that spirits can unbind
immune we know to whim and to caprice
music expands the needy aching mind
we need the silence broken for our peace

what's possible

we'd rather sleep and dream than fight
but choice is not what we have got
the only options are to die or rot

the future may be dull or may be bright
in any case we know we're on the spot
we'd rather sleep and dream than fight

the answer is that we ought to be right
we don't want our memory to be a blot
but have no choice whether it is or not
we'd rather sleep and dream than fight

mystery of the editorial voice

a polite no's far better than a curt yes
we haven't taken thought for that much pain
but know that time will give us more not less

there's no one who can curse or who can bless
we see the clouds and curse the absent rain
a polite no's far better than a curt yes

we say much less than free folk should express
in summer we might laugh at the chilblain
but know that time will give us more not less

we're far too wise to contemplate redress
whatever went before will come again
a polite no's far better than a curt yes

a sort of weight on every head will press
we purport to resist with might and main
but know that time will give us more not less

each of us takes our feelings to excess
in spite of fact we'll hope for victory plain
(a polite no's far better than a curt yes)
but know that time will give us more not less

under the willows

no matter what the lies that scoffers say
you have the power to do just what you need
enough for hope but not to cloy a greed
the sun will set red in the distant bay
and you will need the stars to find your way
but to the proper message you must heed
if your staff's to be more than a mere reed
and your feet are not to be mired in the clay
the light does what it always has to do
shadows aren't monsters although you may fear
there are no wolves hidden behind each tree
each firefly promises something strange and new
the end's to be with those you hold most dear
and only the straight path will set you free

watching the temperature

already it's too hot for work or thought
but i can't stop until i've done the job
the road is clear and the line is taut
already it's too hot for work or thought

choices must be made before we're caught
between the laughter and the sorry sob
already it's too hot for work or thought
but i can't stop until i've done the job

not enough for simple thought

there's never any time to think
about the ways that we can choose
to take ourselves right to the brink
there's never any time to think

we pause and then we take a drink
all answers are dissolved in booze
there's never any time to think
about the ways that we can choose

it will not matter win or lose
unless we can reach to the edge
to hesitate will court the blues
it will not matter win or lose

our hopes are that we'll simply cruise
until we're forced to take the pledge
it will not matter win or lose
unless we can reach to the edge

we wander past the withered sedge
and do not ask just how we came
for bird to fly it first must fledge
we wander past the withered sedge

the opening requires a wedge
and after just a simple flame
we wander past the withered sedge
and do not ask just how we came

the answer's held within the name
of that which we can't understand
our faces are immune to shame
the answer's held within the name

the whole thing's just a stupid game
the best response is to be bland
the answer's held within the name
of that which we can't understand

the standard reply's ready-canned
we aren't supposed to give it thought
not one thing happens that we planned
the standard reply's ready-canned

we know that we ought to demand
that we receive just what we bought
the standard reply's ready canned
we aren't supposed to give it thought

the gap falls between is and ought
and will just widen over time
the chances are we're told just fraught
the gap falls between is and ought

we haven't learned just what you taught
our minds are fallen far from prime
the gap falls between is and ought
and will just widen over time

the thought that we might change is crime
you must not hold it or you'll die
your name will be dragged through the slime
the thought that we might change is crime

you and i might hope to climb
till we're too small for normal eye
the thought that we might change is crime
you must not hold it or you'll die

if we might someday hope to fly
above the spaces where lives link
we could finesse the standard tie
if we might someday hope to fly

stout opponents of the easy lie
might quail to hear our glasses clink
if we might someday hope to fly
above the places where lives link

our eyes are steady we won't blink
at anything that's false or true
past any guardian we'll soon slink
our eyes are steady we won't blink

let others waste vast seas of ink
if they speak up then we will sue
our eyes are steady we won't blink
at anything that's false or true

permanent grin

no colours now remain for proud display
dark fire has come to overwhelm the bright
the ones who most lack vision proclaim sight

there is some sort of honour on this day
for those who claim the standard as of right
no colours now remain for proud display

who makes the leather must the live skin flay
and this must happen in the day's despite
but not as we discover in deep night
no colours now remain for proud display

Hazards of Georgia

We looked forward to afternoon tea
but our joy it was never to be,
since the gods, it was plain,
refused to send rain
in spite of our most profound plea.

The logic of this may seem odd
but before you get our your rod
you have to remember
that the least little ember
would have incinerated the sod.

no reason for doubt

the real complexity of life is what we hate
things should be simple all in black and white
all of our problems can be blamed on fate

the sort of thing that we call excess freight
will seem once we have started to be slight
the real complexity of life is what we hate

we clean the bar and write up on the slate
the total cost of drinking every night
all of our problems can be blamed on fate

our answers always seem to come too late
we have no chance to show off and be bright
the real complexity of life is what we hate

the pressure and the strain will not abate
we have to take the vessel at the height
all of our problems can be blamed on fate

the power we have is not reason of state
the only thing that matters is our might
the real complexity of life is what we hate
all of our problems can be blamed on fate

achievement

you never ask just how the thing is done
there's never reason to get out of line
what we get up to always counts as fun
you never ask just how the thing is done

we ask what happens when in open sun
we see as shoddy what we thought was fine
you never ask just how the thing is done
there's never reason to get out of line

human conditioning

we name the answer when we know the fact
but cannot bear the truth of all we're told
there's always reason for display of tact
we name the answer when we know the fact

we think before we can decide to act
and get our vengeance like our water cold
we name the answer when we know the fact
but cannot bear the truth of all we're told

glare

in light so sharp it hurts the eyes
we learn new meanings for old pain
to walk outside's a constant strain

so hot we watch the fainting flies
with sympathy that goes against the grain
in light so sharp it hurts the eyes

on such a day the tall tree dies
we know we'll see such times again
but while we suffer hope for rain
in light so sharp it hurts the eyes

whereof we cannot speak

we don't know all that is the case
the world's too much to understand
the things that are not quick to hand
bring hot blood shining in the face
we cannot choose the time or place
but can we know dance to the band
the music here can't just be bland
we'll occupy a complex space
name something and we see it flee
too much of life can't be pinned down
but we take hope from simple things
the best we have you may not see
we none of us can sport a crown
but still we wish that we had wings

still in spin

we make the choice and spin the wheel
our hearts rejoice when we see light
the journey takes all day and night

we never know just how to feel
when told we've done the thing just right
we make the choice and spin the wheel

there's something that will fix the deal
and let us know when all's in flight
how soon we'll be out of the plight
we make the choice and spin the wheel

insolation

not one who sees but waits the hour
will reach the mountain in due time
the beasts that in the noontime cower
not one who sees but waits the hour

we long for the refreshing shower
to cool us after the long climb
not one who sees but waits the hour
will reach the mountain in due time

Ancient and modern

Words on bamboo slips
Master Kong and Master Mo
with care indited;

then we read their thoughts
on cheap pulp paper in books
they did not dream of.

Today we watch the
pixels of their old wisdom
crossing the thin screen

and we think ourselves
wise and sophisticated
unlike those beggars.

Are we the better
for all of this mass knowledge
or just deluded?

da capo

let us begin with a small kind of star
the end we know is not a different fact
we need to show a little bit of tact

to our desires there is no simple bar
with agony we never will be racked
let us begin with a small kind of star

no destination can be held too far
our luggage has been neatly stacked
and we are ready with our standard act
let us begin with a small kind of star

The expedition

We're, all of us, set on the Way
to find the truth within each heart,
our hope is simple: none may depart
until they've seen an honest day
or had a chance to hunt and slay
the monster, with a rapid dart,
and then to cleave its soul apart
and find within the bloody spray.
Let each of us swear by the light
that we will make this journey soon
and not delay until the dark;
we will not pause, nor day, nor night,
we'll press on even at the noon
and leave at last our simple mark.

a tiny revelation

we measure honesty in drops of sweat
the power to do all things is in our hands
nothing we do allows us to forget
we measure honesty in drops of sweat

don't be afraid of getting soaking wet
there's nothing better for you as it stands
we measure honesty in drops of sweat
the power to do all things is in our hands

awakening

we reach the moment of total decision
our hopes are frozen all is now in place
we have no time for anger nor derision
we reach the moment of total decision

the world requires simplicity of vision
the loser now may one day win the race
we reach the moment of total decision
our hopes are frozen all is now in place

knowing for the first time

our minds are set into convergent motion
we face a world with maps that are too old
and none of us has any store of gold
about our goal we have not the least notion
but are supposed to give all our devotion
to do the things about which we are told
we aren't the ones to bring sheep to the fold
but must set forth across the open ocean
not with a chart or compass of these seas
but with hearts filled with nothing but delusion
we venture out with all our flags unfurled
the sails are filled out with a freshening breeze
we scatter our dried leaves in great profusion
and know that we must inherit a new world

the truth of liberation

we know of nothing that comes after dark
the sleep that lasts forever is the prize
no other world will come beneath our eyes
there's no eternal dancing in the park
breaking the silence distant dogs will bark
their presence with us here justly denies
that our existence is a pack of lies
they serve indeed to keep us to the mark
in the short hours of sunlight let us choose
the harder path the one that has its cost
that causes us to go against the grain
the other way is just to play and lose
and then to claim that we have never lost
deny the pleasure and refuse the pain
the world we've got is simple clear and plain
we can't just opt out we can't just refuse
to leave the creeks and rivers all uncrossed
we can't just wait on the promise of rain
beneath the skin we still can see the bruise
though in the summer there's no fear of frost
we wonder at the play of time and chance
but know that we have no choice but to dance

On the antiquity of blogging

Egyptian priests just sighed in their beer
at all the bloody words they had to write;
they toiled far into the Nilotic night

to say those things that Pharaoh held dear;
then looked upon the work, and at the sight
Egyptian priests just sighed in their beer.

Today, we know that bloggers far and near
with words and meanings all are making light
of tasks that gave old Potiphar a fright;
Egyptian priests just sighed in their beer.

How to make light

We take our places in the old, old play
with not much sense of being upon the stage,
we're just the honest voices of our day.

There's so much that we simply cannot say,
too many things that are wrong with our age;
we take our places in the old, old play.

At best we might some notional monster slay
that has its only life on this white page,
we're just the honest voices of our day.

We hide our smiles when spamming asses bray
their trite inanities, and hold our rage --
we take our places in the old, old play.

We laugh when watch as our good friends stray
all over the damn' map, our laugh's their gauge;
we're just the honest voices of our day.

Though seasons change we've got eternal May,
we're civil but we know when to engage;
we're just the honest voices of our day,
we take our places in the old, old play.

a noite de san xohan

we come to celebrate the turning year
as revellers who dance now down the hill
we drink the water of the sacred rill

the trees we know will flower forth and bear
fruit for the delectation of both jack and jill
we come to celebrate the turning year

this solstice now of all nights is most dear
the river in the distance turns the mill
and we rejoice that we're all living still
we come to celebrate the turning year

solstice evening

it's hot and summery on this first night
we look outside and praise the longest day
the world is filled by myriad beings bright

we see the world with more than normal sight
and praise those things that take our breath away
it's hot and summery on this first night

aloft the birds perform their dance of flight
while we sit here to bid the moment stay
the world is filled with myriad beings bright

we take these matters as our simple right
but in our hearts we know that they are play
it's hot and summery on this first night

against us now the facts will never fight
we cannot from this long path ever stray
the world is filled with myriad beings bright

we know that we must turn back to our plight
but for this moment we pause and delay
its hot and summery on this first night
the world is filled with myriad beings bright

measuring the truth

a name is not enough to find the soul
we measure value by the food and pound
the sky matters far less than the ground

we want to stir the river with a pole
a little axis makes the world go round
a name is not enough to find the soul

a matter of selecting the best goal
we don't demand either a sight or sound
we will not leave a track for any hound
a name is not enough to find the soul

finding the element

i haven't thought about what i must say
the chosen words must be allowed to serve
that is a form of comfort on the curve

we choose with care the least appalling way
the one that lets us act with flair and verve
i haven't thought about what i must say

we let the jackass and the jennet bray
you know that you wouldn't have the nerve
to make the journey you would have to swerve
i haven't thought about what i must say

must be endured

the final torment comes in name of hope
we are not sure but know of its return
in all the forms for which a child may yearn

the temple's reached by way of a steep slope
and at its heart the cleanest fire will burn
the final torment comes in name of hope

we're told that we are just supposed to cope
we haven't seen all of the things we'll earn
but know that all the milk is in the churn
the final torment comes in name of hope

at the fulcrum

a sort of vision comes half sight half dream
the things we need aren't obvious or clear
all that we want's receding from the near

the whole of light becomes a single beam
and yet the day is very far from drear
a sort of vision comes half sight half dream

the top of life is here the very cream
all that we face is less than we can bear
what matters are the things that we hold dear
a sort of vision comes half sight half dream

love of country

we ask for truth and get more lies
the ones who lead have nothing left
when our boss speaks honesty dies
we ask for truth and get more lies

we wanted bees and got more flies
of common sense we are bereft
we ask for truth and get more lies
the ones who lead have nothing left

generation voyage

a million years will pass too soon
earth will not change much nor the stars
small ice-caps still appear on mars
permanent footprints dot the moon
we ask for nothing we desire no boon
the sun cares little for our human jars
einstein has told us all about the bars
we know the numbers just make us swoon
a journey that might take a dozen lives
or many generations more than that
and still we will not reach another earth
we could cram folk into some giant hives
allow them to traverse in nothing flat
and still not bring a galaxy to birth

the only glory

the price of liberty is still the same
a chunk of life belongs to other folk
we don't consider this to be a game

we give the ones who claim to lead a poke
they have to listen if they want to lead
our way of life can never be a joke

the choice is clear so is the normal deed
there's but one option that is not to fail
it's not a matter for desire nor greed

knave and fool alike we'll send to gaol
all that must matter is the human stake
one who desires to rule must not be stale

we all of us desire the same big break
a life with good things and but little pain
we know to tell the honest from the fake

we balance sun and blue with cloud and rain
there's got to be a space for every soul
we lose together and as one we gain

that's the objective the celestial pole
we can't all be alone in our fast cars
we all belong to the great human whole

we live in mud but we can see the stars

at the æstival solstice

the heat will rush right to my head
it's not enough that you're right here
i fear the times when you're not near

awakening i feel doom and dread
my bed seems turned into a bier
the heat will rush right to my head

above us a clear sky's been spread
the green below is what seems queer
this still point of the speeding year
the heat will rush right to my head

time for thought

i haven't had a chance to think
about the way to get things done
i take my weight and then i run

the whole of life is on the brink
of some revealing gift of fun
i haven't had a chance to think

all we can do is eat and drink
anything more will our brains stun
nothing remains beneath the sun
i haven't had a chance to think

no certain harbour

a mention of this is enough to frighten
the bravest warrior into greater speed
the pile of words never seems to lighten
we read and think and stop again to read
words that no longer cheer and brighten
thoughts that can satisfy no human need
the beacon's lit and war is on the way
but we don't pause just to enjoy the day

the moral of each tale we must belabour
there's never enough reason for our lies
the food we eat has never had a savour
the dunghill is replete with hungry flies
the nobleman must bear a foil or sabre
and fuss about with foolish silken ties
priests who command a weary folk to pray
aren't ready for the ones who simply slay

a glimmer in the trees

i know that life's a matter of high art
the thing we do is make it into play
still there is truth within each living heart

you make demand for the exciting part
and when its done you'll always rue the day
i know that life's a matter of high art

the body's not much more than an old cart
it knows the ruts and puddles on the way
still there is truth within each living heart

across the lawn you see a swift bird dart
its hunger simply will not let it stay
i know that life's a matter of high art

you'd sell your soul if you could find the mart
your very skin you'd let the butcher flay
still there is truth within each living heart

what's at the end was there right at the start
the silence holds the best things that we say
i know that life's a matter of high art
still there is truth within each living heart

a poor player

a count of words does not reveal the fact
but we aren't ready for hard truth unveiled
the glass we look through's dull and cracked
a count of words does not reveal the fact

each message must be treated with full tact
against the wind but very few have sailed
a count of words does not reveal the fact
but we aren't ready for hard truth unveiled

in anger and despair the folk have railed
against the ones whose truth we can't dispute
we thought we had the entire process nailed
in anger and despair the folk have railed

the message that we hear has not been mailed
it's meaning and its form alike are cute
in anger and despair the folk have railed
against the ones whose truth we can't dispute

the truest human's no more than a brute
against our hopes few hands have yet been raised
the meaning it is clear we can't refute
the truest human's no more than a brute

we know that we as yet can't institute
the order under which all gods are praised
the truest human's no more than a brute
against our hopes few hands have yet been raised

another signal comes we're not yet crazed
by all the changes that weigh on each mind
still in the middle day each stands amazed
another signal comes we're not yet crazed

faced with a complex world we are not fazed
in no sense can you claim that we are blind
another signal comes we're not yet crazed
by all the changes that weigh on each mind

the cords that you see cannot simply bind
they link us each to each in a vast net
we eat the fruit from the core to the rind
the cords that you see cannot simply bind

the mistake's that we take the name mankind
the sort of thing that would make a devil fret
the cords that you see cannot simply bind
they link us each to each is a vast net

there's something to be said now for regret
each of our faults though makes us what we are
we know the greater purpose won't be set
there's something to be said now for regret

we won't reveal the answer no not yet
we'll make the journey each in our own car
there's something to be said now for regret
each of our faults though makes us what we are

the life we make we always seek to mar
a vision comes and we call it a lie
the journey that we take's a bit too far
the life we make we always seek to mar

we start with nothing and we end on par
we'll leave the green behind us by and by
the life we make we always seek to mar
a vision comes and we call it a lie

the truth we know is painful to the eye
an ugliness we bear each in our hearts
we want to live and fear that we must die
the truth we know is painful to the eye

we aren't still waiting for the best reply
the target has been pierced by many darts
the truth we know is painful to the eye
an ugliness we bear each in our hearts

each of us knows our secret sacred parts
in this long play and waits our turn to act
the stage is not the worst of all our arts
each of us knows our secret sacred parts

life's just a process of sale in the marts
in pleasing shape the soul is sealed and packed
each of us knows our secret sacred parts
in this long play and waits our turn to act

the voice of the ostrich

we seek for peace and all we get's a stone
the news that comes is horror and despair
the world just turns and doesn't ever care
out of the clay we see there juts a bone
of all the things for which we should atone
to single out this one does not seem fair
we look upon the people gone past spare
each of them in their private hell alone
the lies we hear aren't ones that let us rest
secure in our own comfort happy folk
far from the wars and lacking only breath
to claim that we are up to every test
on us will never rest the dastard yoke
and none of us could ever fall to death

a time for careful thought

what gods peer out from these bewildered trees
we cannot tell for their names are quite dead
a moments calm and then the whirling breeze
a sort of dance but one that's filled with dread
we fear what's hidden from the one who sees
the true decision's kept within each head
a matter of the heart we choose to think
and then we find ourselves right on the brink

the weather's broken but there's not yet rest
our knowledge cannot shield us from the fire
what proof there is comes out of this hard test
the wisest know they're preaching to the choir
and yet they tell us we must give our best
we're not the ones who need to be assuaged
and yet you know that we've the weather gauged

storms come and go and what's left is not sweet
the warmest greetings go to the worst sort
we aren't so sure that we've the proper meat
and yet we know that we won't be caught short
we think that we're entitled to some treat
but we are not the ones with friends at court
evening must spread to one and all her balm
we know this and we know we must be calm

no room for vision

worlds fill with hope and then they disappear
time was we would have said much more than that
the whipping wind has damaged all that's dear
worlds fill with hope and then they disappear

when signals come we hope they are in clear
a storm of anger will leave the trees flat
worlds fill with hope and then they disappear
time was we would have said much more than that

and then the crash

nerves on the edge at any thought of risk
the world we want has not been fully made
our sources are all hidden in the shade

we're solemn as a cook with an egg-whisk
the heat is not reduced with lemonade
nerves on the edge at any thought of risk

so we aren't all as young and spry and brisk
as those bright boys out there on parade
still we've survived and done without your aid
nerves on the edge at any thought of risk

we never leave

we're tired of waiting for what's sweet
life's far too sour thus unrelieved
we wanted more but were deceived
we face this lack of drink and meat
with open eyes and hurried feet
too long our hearts were sad and grieved
but we knew just what we believed
we're silent but we ought to bleat
a moment's rest and on we press
our journey has no proper destination
and we would be upset to reach the end
our lives require more than just redress
each of us best knows the situation
but cannot help the movement or the trend

no time for fantasy

the tale we've heard is now too old
our thoughts are swifter than the light
no rain fell in the depths of night

it's summer but our hearts are cold
each noise awakens latent fright
the tale we've heard is now too old

we're too tired to be very bold
we take the changes as a right
yet can't let creatures out of sight
the tale we've heard is now too old

a measure of our desperation

a measure of our desperation
in all the work that is to do
our fear of making the old new

there's nothing in this situation
that we might take to be so true
a measure of our desperation

as all the good things of creation
come one by one into our view
seeing what matters have been due
a measure of our desperation

a sudden memory

a sort of message brings old grief
words resurrect forgotten pain
the mind insists on new relief
a sort of message brings old grief

the tale is one not past belief
its truth defines the living grain
a sort of message brings old grief
words resurrect forgotten pain

this teasing sun

all of our longing's focused on the rain
there's little we can do but wait and fret
the grass must wonder at this human strain

our work seems focused on but little gain
the duties come and go but we're beset
all of our longing's focused on the rain

a time of waiting's not easy in the main
we plant and hope that we will not regret
the grass must wonder at this human strain

no sooner promised than it's gone again
the lack of water is our greatest debt
all of our longing's focused on the rain

the clouds all dissipate that much is plain
we seem to know that nothing we will get
the grass must wonder at this human strain

another day passes with weight of pain
we want to hope but we will soon forget
all of our longing's focused on the rain
the grass must wonder at this human strain

lords and owners

we aren't supposed to let the matter ride
but how to do things isn't always clear
the monster seems to lurk in dark outside
we aren't supposed to let the matter ride

what we must do is show our better side
we may be hard but we are always fair
we aren't supposed to let the matter ride
but how to do things isn't always clear

the thing is that we've got time to spare
answers are easy in this light to find
what must be done is simple proper care
the thing is that we've got time to spare

our human qualities are never rare
they're visible to the most wilful blind
the thing is that we've got time to spare
answers are easy in this light to find

the thing that first of all must come to mind
is that we cannot always try to hide
we must be patient and we must be kind
the thing that first of all must come to mind

we aren't the ones who would be in a bind
if all our decency were here denied
the thing that first of all must come to mind
is that we cannot always try to hide

drought

a sort of anger fills the midday air
the sun beats down even the eager soul
fools go out where eagles wouldnt' dare
a sort of anger fills the midday air

the light outside is falsely smiling fair
but only an idiot would go outside and stroll
a sort of anger fills the midday air
the sun beats down even the eager soul

the guardians

these lions watch but never dare to strike
their visages show that they've much to hide
yet their large teeth just cannot be denied

there's nothing much to hate and less to like
while these still wait empty of power and pride
these lions watch but never dare to strike

we can't despair although we'll have to hike
we've never learned to take things in our stride
the road is narrow though the world is wide
these lions watch but never dare to strike

death of the republic

revolt's the thing in which we take most pride
the job of government's a constant bore
we all forget we're just here for the ride

we aren't the ones who'd run away and hide
but neither would you find us at the fore
revolt's the thing in which we take most pride

each of us knows that we must take a side
but facts are things that we'd like to ignore
we all forget we're just here for the ride

the ones who have a heart we must deride
we only trust the one we know's a whore
revolt's the thing in which we take most pride

the golden light's the thing we've most denied
we've done our best and no one could do more
we all forget we're just here for the ride

through all of life we find it best to glide
we see but cannot reach the better shore
revolt's the thing in which we take most pride
we all forget we're just here for the ride

a time for peace

no sort of duty that might be required
would drive a man to madness or far worse
in deepest dark his thinking to immerse

we aren't the ones who say that we are tired
there's no need here for helper nor for nurse
no sort of duty that might be required

in all of this we find that we've been mired
in processes that we can't now reverse
we wait to be borne off in that large hearse
no sort of duty that might be required

winter in summer

heat makes a sort of lethargy take hold
work seems a painful process to deny
you ought to pause and let the world go by
for all of us know that the end is cold

no one desires the choice of being bold
but all of us will want from pain to fly
heat makes a sort of lethargy take hold
work seems a painful process to deny

our ends are not the ones that we were told
we ought to laugh but all of us will cry
we aren't the ones who hold fast to the lie
but those who do may at the last be old
heat makes a sort of lethargy take hold
work seems a painful process to deny

a burnt-out case

a sort of treason fills each heart
against the odds we feel the lack
of strength in shoulder and in back

believing that we should soon start
we learn that we have lost the track
a sort of treason fills each heart

we take results in no good part
long time we gave good sense the sack
and now we face the lash and rack
a sort of treason fills each heart

father's day

let us define the roles and we may find
that we fall into them with simple ease
we all want to impress and teach and please
but each beginning still is frantic blind
we want to come off generous and kind
but cannot see the forest for the trees
and are afraid to end up on our knees
each day's a fresh storm in the honest mind
we let it happen and we hope for good
all that we get becomes a sort of prize
our best desire may be the slowest trend
we're sorry when we have not understood
the world takes its own shape before our eyes
and there are no final answers in the end

out of season

enough to say that we have lost
all plaudits go to those who win
our chances are all in the bin

hands all move slowly in the frost
we count each gain to be a sin
enough to say that we have lost

not one of you would know the cost
of keeping the whole world in spin
instead we take it on the chin
enough to say that we have lost

afternoon nap

i want to sleep the whole way round the clock
a sort of lethargy has seized my aching mind
in all such matters you should take no stock
i want to sleep the whole way round the clock

there's nothing here that's left for me to shock
you seem to want life of quite another kind
i want to sleep the whole way round the clock
a sort of lethargy has seized my waking mind

a crooked smoke

all of our days come down to this
we aren't the ones who know the score
we're stuck with all the hate of yore
but cannot fathom why they hiss
we'd rather give the fame a miss
but know that we are at the fore
the price of power is blood and gore
the scent of money's shit and piss
we pay the cost of scrum and ruck
with gladness for they're other lives
and we would make our children glad
we'll rig the odds and call it luck
while setting forth on jaunty drives
there's no good reason to be sad
what they call justice is a passing fad
we are determined and we're not stuck
let other folk sweat and break out in hives
what we have done would drive a human mad
there's nothing in the tears of grieving wives
we're powerful and we don't give a fuck
whether you live are wounded or just die
means less to us than our most sacred lie

all of the wonder

a moment's sense of what is truly light
no weight of darkness sits upon your head
you do the things you know are right
a moment's sense of what is truly light

a sort of magic intervenes in sight
another answer might provoke much dread
a moment's sense of what is truly light
no weight of darkness sits upon your head

all of our pay must go for heat and bread
the process that we see will end in night
our children at the least will be well-fed
all of our pay must go for heat and bread

we say the things that should be left unsaid
no matter what we're all in the same plight
all of our pay must go for heat and bread
the process that we see will end in night

each generation thinks itself more bright
that all ancestors though they are still led
by those whose consciences are but slight
each generation thinks itself more bright

our truest selves are present in the rite
from this brave presence every fear has fled
each generation thinks itself more bright
than all ancestors though they are still led

stolen wisdom

we have no answer for this ancient trade
no vision comes although we may require
a sort of sense that may withstand the fire
but we must face the future without aid
a remnant army forms this new parade
new folk will to old honours yet aspire
strength and courage are always on hire
there is a proper way to see things made
what knowledge we have is of lesser kind
a morning's worth of harmony is left
but in the light there is not any harm
our interlocutors are rendered blind
the burdens given have but little heft
and we have no defence but simple charm

murmur name upon name

what we envision is not absolute
the truth we seek is of a narrow kind
our great desire we cannot institute
what we envision is not absolute

hearken to violin and to the flute
music describes just what we cannot find
what we envision is not absolute
the truth we seek is of a narrow kind

the oldest practice we'd do best to shun
call it tradition and we've been enslaved
you'd never take our work to be plain fun
the oldest practice we'd do best to shun

when it is night others can see our sun
even the ones that we would call depraved
the oldest practice we'd do best to shun
call it tradition and we've been enslaved

regret's a fine thing when it is not ours
we should be saddened by another's pain
each of us retreats to our own towers
regret's a fine thing when it is not ours

day is long gone but we've seen no showers
our souls like grass are longing for the rain
regret's a fine thing when it is not ours
we should be saddened by another's pain

a sort of apology

When I commit an error it's a beaut,
I'm driven mad when I can't be precise,
order's what separates human from brute;
when I commit an error it's a beaut.

Now some might say that this response is cute
but that with me cannot cut any ice;
when I commit an error it's a beaut,
I'm driven mad when I can't be precise.

not simple questions these

to what old fallacy will we now fall
our minds half-broken by the daily task
we can no longer answer history's call
to what old fallacy will we now fall

a sort of answer must pervade the all
truth does not hide behind an actor's mask
to what old fallacy will we now fall
our minds half-broken by the daily task

we bear a promise that we did not ask
our hearts grow heavier with fading day
wine dribbles out from the half-empty flask
we bear a promise that we did not ask

we'd trap the spirit back within its cask
and let the end of light our tired hopes slay
we bear a promise that we did not ask
our hearts grow heavier with fading day

let others waste their lives for little pay
a mission that is asked for seems so rare
the sun will set on this forgotten bay
let others waste their lives for little pay

we don't expect to flee the noble ray
but all we've learned is how to run and fear
let others waste their lives for little pay
a mission that is asked for seems so rare

we'll shave the truth down and let pare
life down to those things we most lack
we'll let life criticise the whole affair
we'll shave the truth down and let pare

the ones who answer never seem to care
they're just concerned about staying on track
we'll shave the truth down and let pare
life down to those things we most lack

if we reply will history answer back
or must we stay in place and wait in vain
the story's told by some benighted hack
if we reply will history answer back

it doesn't take too much for hearts to crack
we wait and wait and do not see the rain
if we reply will history answer back
or must we stay in place and wait in vain

no sort of explanation makes things plain
green is the colour that most masks desire
we have some hope of honour and of gain
no sort of explanation makes things plain

if we could undertake to stand the strain
we'd let matters come right down to the wire
no sort of explanation makes things plain
green is the colour that most masks desire

you won't despair if we don't light the fire
a host of worries rises with each thought
we praise the calm and will eschew the ire
you won't despair if we don't light the fire

the greatest maker is the finest liar
the greatest gap comes between is and ought
you won't despair if we don't light the fire
a host of worries rises with each thought

the signal comes to one who has been bought
he'll set the blaze and kill those who stand tall
we'll soon find out what our great gifts have wrought
the signal comes to one who has been bought

the greatest battles have yet to be fought
our hero's never yet been on the ball
the signal comes to one who has been bought
he'll set the blaze and kill those who stand tall

our lives and times the future must appal
in a false sunlight we all seem to bask
we run when we as yet can scarcely crawl
our lives and times the future must appal

so when we stop and sing and shout and bawl
we're all afraid of what we might unmask
our lives and times the future must appall
in a false sunlight we all seem to bask

a name of power

we ask the gods to fill each aching heart
with answers to the pain but they are dumb
our thoughts are frozen and our bodies numb
we seem but puppets set to play a part
doomed if we but knew it from the start
the victims of some random divine thumb
while in the background lutes and lyres strum
and critics judge our pain to be bad art
allow some time and we may find a home
for all the angry thoughts that are at play
about the things that we cannot control
we're held on strings and not allowed to roam
we know our time is a short cloudy day
but still we yearn and hope to be made whole

a distant thunder

we add things up to get the sum of pain
a mere misstep and we're deep in the soup
we wait and wait but still it will not rain

it's tempting to see matters as just plain
the world needs time to rest and to regroup
we add things up to get the sum of pain

at no time will we know the best of gain
until our hopes have grown and flown the coop
we wait and wait but still it will not rain

the wind may do its best but we just strain
the proper answer seems outside the loop
we add things up to get the sum of pain

we know that we can't beat the human stain
while swallows in vast numbers soar and swoop
we wait and wait but still it will not rain

to sit and think just goes against the grain
to conquer we must do far more than stoop
we add things up to get the sum of pain
we wait and wait but still it will not rain

on the morrow

name we forget and then beyond recall
go names and numbers all the living fact
that holds us present we have never lacked
reason to think that someday we would fall
we know that one fate will receive us all
but if we speak we know we must show tact
it does not matter if our hearts are wracked
the thing to do is stand up proud and tall
we can't announce the meaning of the chime
the word must be avoided on the road
our minds must never touch a certain thought
all of our lives must be considered prime
we are so fearful of that hidden goad
and do not question just what we have wrought
we have not learned the lesson we were taught
we blame our forebears or we blame the time
but still we knew and any could forebode
the meaning of each travesty or crime
know that our bodies could not take the load
and that true justice always has been bought
a glow we notice coming through the trees
may liberate or make all hearts to freeze

what we understand

with simple thought we spare much grief
the depth of pain each one will surely learn
a sort of fire that leaves the harshest burn
we are not here permitted some relief
our hearts and minds are subject to some thief
wisdom we find no longer serves our turn
but for the simple life we still may yearn
our height of cynicism will beggar belief
of all the symbols ours remains the best
we aren't the ones who've been fated to fail
with no reprieve we still must reach our goal
life's a lot more than just another test
we steer a course between liberty and gaol
and if we're lucky make it through still whole

breaking the flood

we know our hopes cannot be wrong
they are the things that keep us going
we want to jump and start a song

day after day the season long
we wonder why it isn't snowing
we know our hopes cannot be wrong

our sense is always far too strong
our eyes just will not stop glowing
we want to jump and start a song

if you with us will march along
in these new fields we will be hoeing
we know our hopes cannot be wrong

we'll chase out those who don't belong
and keep the ones we would be showing
we want to jump and start a song

i want to hammer on the gong
as long as any river's flowing
we know our hopes cannot be wrong
we want to jump and start a song

head first into the future

stay calm when others start to go wild
your job is to keep order to the last
to keep the present right out of the past
and differentiate parent from child
our answers have been properly styled
at our bravado others stand aghast
our message has been nailed to the mast
and all our rivals have been beguiled
a name we hear turns into a threat
what we may see is never truly real
any old lie will suffice in a pinch
i know that you will dare to take the bet
and watch as others make the final deal
while you are dying slowly inch by inch

waiting for rain

we are allowed to wish for rain
the drought has lasted far too long
our will and our desire are plain
we are allowed to wish for rain

we want to see tomatoes gain
a rich full redness worth a song
we are allowed to wish for rain
the drought has lasted far too long

the news is filled with tales of floods
and raging waters on the streets
beneath those waters rotting spuds
the news is filled with tales of floods

we want our hopes not to be duds
we long to hear the thunder's beats
the news is filled with tales of floods
and raging waters on the streets

for here the rain may pass us by
we see a miracle of evil sort
others get wet while we stay dry
for here the rain may pass us by

deities of weather we'll defy
our hope in darkest clouds is caught
for here the rain may pass us by
we see a miracle of evil sort

a luta continua

all we desire is a new hope
despair's a word for tired folk
we pay out greater lengths of rope
all we desire is a new hope

each of us has learned to cope
we've cast off every heavy yoke
all we desire is a new hope
despair's a word for tired folk

becoming adult

wit is no substitute for plain good sense
no answer comes to those who never ask
not one of us to knowledge makes pretense
wit is no substitute for plain good sense

against such assault is no good defence
it’s not enough to succeed at your task
wit is no substitute for plain good sense
no answer comes to those who never ask

you can’t inquire what lies behind the mask
that’s not your job and you have no need
just take a sip from this right handy flask
you can’t inquire what lies behind the mask

perhaps in sunshine you deserve to bask
but to get there you need a proper speed
you can’t inquire what lies behind the mask
that’s not your job and you have no need

it’s not sufficient to relinquish greed
you’ve got to say that you have got enough
to my stern warnings you should now pay heed
it’s not sufficient to relinquish greed

the thought counts for much more than the deed
you find this out because all life is tough
it’s not sufficient to relinquish greed
you’ve got to say that you have got enough

waiting

a deeper magic than the ones we know
will take us out to places past our view
outside the leaves give off a golden glow
a deeper magic than the ones we know

we hope that our small plants will grow
the fruit they bear will be fresh and new
a deeper magic than the ones we know
will take us out to places past our view

the creed of youth

who wants these days to take much thought
the world's for those who cheat and lie
we should not punish those we've caught
who wants these days to take much thought

we can't replace what others wrought
but can aspire to reach the sky
who wants these days to take much thought
the world's for those who cheat and lie

zombie uprising day

zombies have rights as we should know
they need fair treatment with their brains
you just sit back and watch the show

the ground has got a spectral glow
we hear the sound of distant trains
zombies have rights as we should know

we see them shambling in a row
the cynic boggles and then strains
you just sit back and watch the show

these monstrous beings are firm and slow
they've not been puzzled by the rains
zombies have rights as we should know

along the ground the mist will flow
all that is left of us are stains
you just sit back and watch the show

in some dark place foul beings grow
their scent reminds us of clogged drains
zombies have rights as we should know
you just sit back and watch the show

a summer's tale

no one would want to take the cure
when the result's a different self
each of us sees themself as pure
no one would want to take the cure

our choices will not long endure
all that we want is simple pelf
no one would want to take the cure
when the result's a different self

we took the answer off the shelf
there was no other shining lure
the truth emerges of itself
we took the answer off the shelf

beings of story dwarf and elf
are always brave and not demure
we too the answer off the shelf
there was no other shing lure

but other beings swim the sewer
i've seen the monsters there myself
the vision that you have is newer
but other beings swim the sure

our foes will number ever fewer
the change will simply build itself
but other beings swim the sewer
i've seen the monsters there myself

nice work

i cannot tell just what i've learned
from all these years of pain and joy
life's much more than a simple toy
it must be taken and not spurned
we get far less than we have earned
the prize too often's a decoy
and all we do seems to annoy
every human being's been burned
allow me to define just how
i find myself in this clear place
before the road leads steady down
i've done more than i can say now
not all is written on my face
and i've no chance to win the crown

crane beach

who knows the secret noble name
bright as a sword but not as known
each journey turns into a game
who knows the secret noble name

away from hope of pride or fame
we note the desert and the sown
who knows the secret noble name
bright as a sword but not as known

alone on the bright sheltered beach
nothing before me but the sea
the world seems just beyond my reach
alone on the bright sheltered beach

now all i can do is beseech
the ones who much further can see
alone on the bright sheltered beach
nothing before me but the sea

i've no idea what's come to pass
to those who made that same day-trip
they showed the world both style and class
i've no idea what's come to pass

the breeze that moves the leaves and grass
takes forming words from off my lip
i've no idea what's come to pass
to those who made the same day-trip

i found my back could heat and burn
i'm not immune to harm and pain
i had so much to do and learn
i found my cak could heat and burn

now i'm the one who has to turn
and let the younger make the gain
i found my back could heat and burn
i'm not immune to harm and pain

that day my eyes were wild and red
my heart remained just in its place
i can't remember what was said
that day my eyes were wild and red

the images that haunt my head
go on to fill infinite space
that day my eyes were wild and red
my heart remained just in its place

it was a chance to take my way
far out beyond the normal road
to make of that a greater day
it was a chance to take my way

a time that was given to play
to drop the burden and the load
it was a chance to take my way
far out beyond the normal road

all innocent i could not know
all that went on beyond my eyes
all that i saw was sandy glow
all innocent i could not know

all day i knew that things would go
no further than i could surmise
all innocent i could not know
all that went on beyond my eyes

each mangrove root remains in sight
no bit of it was left behind
the reason seems inane and slight
each mangrove root remains in sight

i've learned since then to do things right
and let the thoughts just fill my mind
each mangrove root remains in sight
no bit of it was left behind

the journey back seemed all too short
i knew i'd seen a different world
not something i would say in sport
the journey back seemed all too short

all in the end should come to nought
the heart within the breast is curled
the journey back seemed all too short
i knew i'd seen a different world

the benison

there isn't room for any gain
beyond what we hope to receive
the thing that all of us see plain
there isn't room for any gain

at times we worry at the strain
there's been no reason to deceive
there isn't room for any gain
beyond what we hope to receive

waiting for strawberries

i'm tired and that's the simple fact
my mind's been frozen into place
there is so much that i have lacked
i'm tired and that's the simple fact

my dizzy head with thought is racked
the anguish shows right in my face
i'm tired and that's the simple fact
my mind's been frozen into place

Small world

The world I say's a tiny place
there aren't a lot of people here,
we know, from travel far and near,
we'll always find a well-known face.
I cross the sea, I've left no trace
of where I was, the ground is sere,
and yet I've come upon friends dear
whose travels also match my pace.
I never know from where they'll pop
but they are there when I turn round
surprised but still with cheery hail.
I have a feeling it won't stop
until my body's deep in ground
or else when all of life must fail.

storm warning

the sky will weigh on every single back
we hate the winter but can't take the spring
the light reminds us of all that we lack

the storm has driven us far off the track
we hear the cry of bird with broken wing
the sky will weigh on every single back

no old crone's here to pop us in a sack
but still we worry what new day will bring
the light reminds us of all that we lack

our hearts right now could not withstand attack
we're trapped within a slowly closing ring
the sky will weigh on every single back

the bonds that link us have become too slack
but no ties can protect us from the sting
the light reminds us of all that we lack

and at the end we know we'll fade to black
none will remember and no one will sing
the sky will weigh on every single back
the light reminds us of all that we lack