to feed on beauty

we ask so much of light upon the flowers
a sustenance of the initial joy
the heart is not to know that it's a ploy
the fruit of labour for so many hours
rather the mind should leap to leafy bowers
should turn the world into a happy toy
restoring wonder of the girl or boy
and giving meaning back to human powers
poppies that bloom in the grass by the road
bring smiles to faces in the evening light
flashes of colour that restore the heart
for those who have to live by narrow code
constrained to always figure out what's right
need artlessness that is produced by art

a moment back in time

outside the stars are candles in the sky
a single glance and you're pressed down by dark
this is reality not a neat park

there is a terror enters through the eye
you cannot seize it cannot simply mark
outside the stars are candles in the sky

you cannot hear or see a creature fly
meaning you find is hard and cold and stark
the truth is not recorded by a clerk
outside the stars are candles in the sky

Ann Coulter

The worst thing about Ann Coulter
isn't that she's such a dolt; her
hand is too long,
her words are so wrong,
and it looks like a snake tried to moult her.

savage wars of peace

each dragon bears a monkey on its back
which one's the guide and leader is not clear
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

upon whole elephants the serpents snack
no rider will allow a sign of fear
each dragon bears a monkey on its back

the last knight flees high up the mountain track
the end of chivalry has now come near
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

a heavy smoke comes from volcanic crack
it does not bother those high up in air
each dragon bears a monkey on its back

wolves hunt the shepherds in a hungry pack
while trolls and demons fill the village square
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

a damsel screams then the scene fades to black
and goblins laugh when elf-kind would not dare
each dragon bears a monkey on its back
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

we are utopia

the echo of the mad machine
warns us of yet another hell
sounds that are yet wholly unclean
suppress the organ and the bell
what older folk would not have seen
cannot be hidden by a spell
the angry monsters do not preen
we do not hear the victim yell

a terror that comes in deep night
is not the one we should have known
the words that will each spirit fright
tell us that justice has long flown
the chance of honour is but slight
the crocodile's now fully grown
ancestral deaths it must requite
and into desert turn the sown

shadow of choices we've not made
a fear that life has passed us by
the endless armies on parade
the television's booming lie
we are seduced to be afraid
of screaming death from hateful sky
the ones who could not make the grade
now look on us with horrid eye

there is no longer healing rain
behind the clouds the sun's quite cold
we can no longer see things plain
we are too fearful to be bold
demons occupy the terrain
our spirits now have become old
all we can feel is endless pain

storm passing by

before the storm a red and lowering sky
my father's voice calmy says hurricane
the rain that comes turns mountainside to fen
there's not one place that's really truly dry
the pigs are almost washed out of their sty
cattle rush up to huddle in the pen
and hiding in the coop i note a hen
we watch and wait for the storm to pass by
facing the east i see a heavy sun
seeming both weak and dull behind the cloud
while swallows in a hurry all swoop low
things will be different when the day is done
the rain and wind will both be very loud
but we will not experience breeze blow

at the fallen temple

here is no echoing of older places
we move our feet to no determined tune
reading the symbols ancient glyph or rune

the gods who reared us have lost their faces
and now we're lost beneath the plenilune
here is no echoing of older places

we grant due service to wilder graces
the palace now is hidden under dune
not one of us from terror is immune
here is no echoing of older places

lacking true vision

we shape the words to make a better sense
but no one listens with an open heart
at being human they make vague pretence

to them what matters are the pounds and pence
for principles they would not give a fart
we shape the words to make a better sense

it is for trivia they're most intense
for all the scenes in which they won't take part
at being human they make vague pretence

about their future they seem the most dense
none gets to the finish if they don't start
we shape the words to make a better sense

this forced opacity is so immense
it can't be pierced by any lighted dart
at being human they make vague pretence

not one of them could safely journey hence
absent all science and lacking all art
we shape the words to make a better sense
at being human they make vague pretence

the page turns

trivial time to think of when we'll meet
choices were made that set us on our way
into the distance sails the royal fleet

who has the choice exactly whom to greet
is king of flowers more than just a day
trivial time to think of when we'll meet

days of good weather still seem to us sweet
with minds that are not close to adult sway
into the distance sails the royal fleet

we skip the stones and then have to repeat
the one who laughs will let the water spray
trivial time to think of when we'll meet

with glorious colours we're now replete
yet have not good excuse to pause or stay
into the distance sails the royal fleet

we've left our morning faces on the street
look up and see the world is turning grey
trivial time to think of when we'll meet
into the distance sails the royal fleet

cleaning pimento

it is not sights but smells that take me back
the dust of spices sits within my brain
and memories of memories in train
my mind has fallen down an open crack
the rope will hold me it has enough slack
i hear old stories and i know their strain
tales of past suffering and of others' pain
while the imposing present fades to black
we never learn just what we ought to know
but who we are is more than just a line
and heavy odours lull us all to sleep
and now we've found out where we have to go
in every corner now the sun must shine
but we can't choose whose memories to keep

watching and listening

above the body vultures slowly turn
their wings flap once and then they gently glide
i watch them from above on mountain's side
while not too distant cooking fires still burn
carrion birds will eat those things we'd spurn
and yet they're still too ugly for our pride
these graceful creatures that the thermals ride
our deaths the only things for which they yearn
some on the banjo and the guitar strum
while they sing of the times that are to be
but they are silenced by the wailing horn
each heartbeat is repeated by the drum
in the far distance we have sight of sea
and cleaner beings waiting to be born

another argo

the voyage ends when we have found a name
before the mast not one of us could sail
into the sky at once empty and pale

we did not do the deed for wealth or fame
but to revive a life now long grown stale
the voyage ends when we have found a name

the art we learn is just how not to blame
the absent gods for doldrums or for gale
but to accept that all the seas must fail
the voyage ends when we have found a name

the fascist tide

speaker of falsehoods claiming they are true
some ugly thoughts stand revealed in the light
monstrosities lumbering out of night
stupidities and errors brought to view
with idiots claiming that they're brand new
and that we ought to revel in the sight
of liars rising up to state they're right
saying shit's needed to flavour the stew
things that belong deep buried in the grave
are brought back up with emphasis and praise
we're just supposed to cheer on each old lie
call fools and thugs truly honest and brave
the stinking banners of old death upraise
and if we can't stand nonsense then just die

classical wisdoms

all institution
requires we measure duly
where each must belong

plato will tell us
that only philosophers
know truly to rule

aristotle warns
the common folk hate the rich
and vice versa

master meng knows that
the king must serve the people
or hang by his neck

ancient thinkers
understanding a story
missing the picture

echoes of summer

we see the changes and we realise
our lives will matter in some measured way
there's something here that may each heart surprise
we see the changes and we realise

the ones who fail we should not now despise
we are not beings of some different clay
we see the changes and we realise
our lives will matter in some measured way

if we could make the choice to go or stay
we would not hesitate or so we think
there's little that we'd have to ask or say
if we could make the choice to go or stay

we know we have the answer come what may
and so we halt and look over the brink
if we could make the choice to go or stay
we would not hesitate or so we think

the noblest answer is a nod or wink
look up and see us higher than a bird
we look below and watch the glasses clink
the noblest answer is a nod or wink

it's never time to pause and have a drink
we've listened but we've never truly heard
the noblest answer is a nod or wink
look up and see us higher than a bird

what we have chosen you have not preferred
but either way we have to take the chance
we're caught between the honest and absurd
what we have chosen you have not preferred

the answer comes without a better word
we seek to know all things now in advance
what we have chosen you have not preferred
but either way we have to take the chance

out in the fields no youngsters left to prance
we reach conclusions by a swift surmise
these are the times when we must take our stance
out in the fields no youngsters left to prance

we play the music for the longer dance
the truth we see's not hidden from your eyes
out in the fields no youngsters left to prance
we reach conclusions by a swift surmise

from emesa to ctesiphon

the mode of failure now seems all too clear
beyond the wall the masses cannot wait
a little rain may serve to cleanse the air

empires arise when golden monsters dare
lay out the claim they've been chosen by fate
the mode of failure now seems all too clear

a time of charity means words to spare
but they don't add to much upon a plate
a little rain may serve to cleanse the air

riding a mule a stallion or a mare
will do to survey the largest estate
the mode of failure now seems all too clear

our rulers worry about what to wear
to awe us when they enter through the gate
a little rain will serve to cleanse the air

our task in the new order is to stare
while dragons pass us by with heads held straight
the mode of failure now seems all too clear
a little rain will serve to cleanse the air

house name

we find the empire doesn't end at once
its memories hold on for many years
it isn't truly there but still some dunce
for its past glory sheds some weighty tears
we see the noble houses on their hills
and watch the servants hidden at the back
the final remnants of imperious wills
the ones who run at first thought of attack
the meaning of the name first seen in rain
is horror sorrow and the end of hope
but now it has become historic pain
and the last owner's hiding from the rope
the one who knows had left the past behind
casting grim memory far out of mind
i should know better but i fit the name
into a different setting of the past
so that in future i shall feel some shame
and the dull image into garbage cast
rule of the self becomes the better plan
but we are human right down to the bone
we have to make a stand woman or man
and work together lest we die alone
thousands of miles that now are in between
don't dim the signal nor deface the word
but know i understand just what they mean
and that is something that can't be unheard
the road past huts and houses still may wind
but what we think of may now be more kind

definition of order

who waiting for the end will hear the rain
not as a drumbeat but a kinder sound
will watch it soak into the thirsty ground
and for that moment forget all the pain
flowing to creek to river then to main
we send the stories that we have not found
measuring pleasure by the ounce and pound
life is a matter of no loss nor gain
cobweb that stretches twixt the house and fence
glistens with raindrops that attract the eye
but having done so all its cause is lost
we send the hungry creature further hence
treating it as we would a shill or spy
and thinking only of the daily cost

painful decisions

the choice to go or not to go's absurd
a road was mapped long before we were born
we must walk forward with a joyful word

nothing will happen that we won't have heard
this drizzle makes the whole place seem forlorn
the choice to go or not to go's absurd

we think the one who reads is just a nerd
but backs are bent and hands have long been worn
we must walk forward with a joyful word

the thunderclap tells us what has occurred
we hear a car alarm annoying horn
the choice to go or not to go's absurd

whatever we might do has been inferred
when we arrive we see they've reaped the corn
we must walk forward with a joyful word

this egg belongs to no sharp-seeing bird
a little corner from the world's been torn
the choice to go or not to go's absurd
we must walk forward with a joyful word

significant satori

across the hills the young goats lightly prance
but far below i see the black stream glide
i'm here alone there's no one at my side
the world is caught preparing its next dance
cloud throws me into a sort of light trance
a single sunbeam on the swamp will slide
as distantly a ship sails with the tide
i cannot tell it's my turn to advance
sunlight explodes if i just play my part
a better law must govern what is shown
we speak but once and yet we have been heard
all this i carry in my living heart
now further in from the magic unknown
but bound to listen for the honest word