a new century

a century ago the world began

in blood and pain the auguries were wild

so many things have changed in a short span

my father’s world the currents overran

there was no time for words or thoughts too mild

a century ago the world began

we have to choose which of the screens to scan

it is too easy to become beguiled

so many things have changed in a short span

and we are all entranced woman and man

by all the facts that overcome the child

a century ago the world began

two shots and then the faeces struck the fan

for all mankind none would be reconciled

so many things have changed in a short span

the light itself has been placed under ban

and all that once was purest been defiled

a century ago the world began

so many things have  changed in a short span

the victor's tale

to those who wait there is no better name

in the wide oceans for the coming wild

giving us hope when all we had was shame

our fathers left us heritage of blame

although their rule was temperate and mild

to those who wait there is no better name

except perhaps the trumpet cry of fame

though that by wise folk is sometimes reviled

giving us hope when all we had was shame

the thought of danger puts us in the frame

yet for our good we left the hearth exiled

to those who wait there is no better name

for hero but we find the story lame

and punish those we thought might just have smiled

giving us hope when all we had was shame

since now we learn the whole thing is a game

and the best player no more than a child

to those who wait there is no better name

giving us hope when all we had was shame

cancelled bill

some mention made then must the silence fall

upon the envies that have held us late

within the barrier lacking all freight

of decency or commerce but the tall

protectors of our honour lightly call

on such devotion as the wise relate

in their long histories and we do not state

a better truth the pain belongs to all

so what is earned after the sacrifice

no one regards as worthy of our toil

since it has fallen from no awesome height

but rather we are told that the full price

is not a matter for complaint or broil

but can be settled in a day and night

about democracy

what meanings truth and justice had

we've understood and will not pass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

(not the first time) and we are glad

to see reflected in the glass

what meanings truth and justice had

in eyes that are forever sad

seeing the bones beneath the grass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

for generations good and bad

by that immense levée-en-masse

(what meanings truth and justice had)

so demos spoke and thus forbade

the foolish claims of herrenrass

that bill was paid at stalingrad

so many folk might think us mad

to speak of mankind as one class

what meanings truth and justice had

that bill was paid at stalingrad

the grown-up truth

we navigate by methods good and fair

our science has been tested and found true

for many seasons the hard-working crew

have full and thorough trust in our good care

so do not worry at the changing air

in certainty that we have paid our due

before the mast the storms we have been through

are the best measure of how much we dare

yet each adventure has its own sweet trap

since we dare not refuse to face the test

so must discover just how little sure

we really are of what is on the map

and what we know but must face all with zest

for all that matters is that we endure

right into the gale

go through the shallows then out past the wreck

until you reach the point where water burns

you’ll know it clearly by the sharp returns

then note the ship the one with golden deck

and figurehead of angel with wry neck

you’d sign up on her as one does who yearns

for urgent journeys yet as each child learns

there are no funds left to support the cheque

still without vision no one would begin

a single enterprise and we’d remain

stuck in the mud unable to set sail

instead we face each whimsy with a grin

allow the facts of chance to come out plain

and turn our faces right into the gale