fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

 

none left but those who won't pass through the door
leaders who give no great degrees of hope
a million hours of climbing up that slope
and still the choice is made to fight the war

you do those things that honest folk abhor
the rules are not the thing that matter most
to those for whom the magic is the boast
and still the choice is made to fight the war

a year or two before you see the score
shallow the thought of those who have to hide
but lesser even the rewards of pride
and still the choice is made to fight the war

there was a garden in that place before
you burned it down and left a wasteland sere
there was no need you had the time to spare
and still the choice is made to fight the war

you have to ask us to give so much more
although in truth there's never been the need
the monster speaks in hunger and in greed
and still the choice is made to fight the war

none can it seems an honest time restore
honour has been delivered to its grave
there is no decent moment left to save
and still the choice is made to fight the war

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
no giants left now for none else would dare
to raise these structures on the mountaintop
you see them and your heart comes to a stop
naught's left of man so high in the clean air

we climb the rocks and have no time to spare
while far below each farmer reaps his crop
each swift machete highest heads will lop
naught's left of man so high in the clean air

allow us for a moment just to stare
while over a low dam the stream will slop
our hearts are awed by sight of the long drop
naught's left of man so high in the clean air

we think a moment that life is not fair
and any innocent's soon for the chop
yet we must know as on the seat we flop
naught's left of man so high in the clean air

what we recall is our duty of care
while with another soul we wouldn't swop
just where we are for any task of shop
naught's left of man so high in the clean air

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
the sun is too bright
day after day time runs short
indian summer

we blame the clear light
deluding us into port
indian summer

not time yet to fight
settling matters out of court
indian summer

something is not right
but we do not know what sort
indian summer

our hope's not so slight
but it is what we have wrought
indian summer

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 no matter what is on the drum
we aren't the ones to pay the bill
we let the others eat their fill
and praise the ones who chose to come

we aren't the only ones in sum
to sing and dance beneath the hill
while water bubbles down the rill
and praise the ones who chose to come

we listen for the insects' hum
around the juice that's for the still
we want to drink rather than kill
and praise the ones who chose to come

we will not leave the deaf or dumb
their best hope is to heed our will
we'll leave to others spiv and shill
and praise the ones who chose to come

we wait for you to bring the rum
with elbows on the windowsill
we watched you take the cane to mill
and praise the ones who chose to come
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
upon these sights we find that we can fall
knowledge of every rut in the rough road
fireflies flashing in their odd secret code
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

we think these mountains though not very tall
upon a rise is our nightly abode
and just below we see the cocks that crowed
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

when each goes back they find the place grown small
and very strange the paths they walked or rode
old time we find has sped instead of slowed
the casuarianas and the drystone wall

and yet not all has faded past recall
each knows the places where the sunset glowed
there was a time when magic set the mode
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
spring covers all in its rich coats of green
we love the warmer days and longer hours
the world seems cleaner with a brighter sheen
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

a time will come when leaves have gone to mould
when we will daily long for warmer showers
we'll have a choice dull wet or brilliant cold
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

the colours that i see will cheer the mind
revive good thoughts and all my native powers
leaving all sadness and sharp fear behind
but still i want to speak of autumn flowers

regard the fence in purple pink and red
the blooms stand tall not a one of them cowers
the plants seem happy in their fertile beds
and so i want to speak of autumn flowers

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
there's sense enough to make the structure work
in ways the framers would have thought bizarre
our aim is ever the most distant star

we will not fail we will not seek to shirk
our duties though realities may jar
our aim is ever the most distant star

the day is clear but even through the murk
we would have seen our target from afar
our aim is ever the most distant star

we won't let dragons of suspicion lurk
the results of our efforts none shall mar
our aim is ever the most distant star

none of us pause for quiddity or quirk
past failures and disasters are no bar
our aim is ever the most distant star

we'll let the fool and liar go berserk
our obligation's to go beyond par
our aim is ever the most distant star

we have no fear or bomb or gun or dirk
honour is gained not lost with any scar
our aim is ever the most distant star
that is our duty that is all our work

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
we've come out now from under all that cloud
endurance and survival leave us proud
that after such a time we're still unbowed
above us in the night are strange new stars

we paid no heed to passages of time
to focus all our efforts is no crime
and yet we heard no ticking and no chime
above us in the night are strange new stars

we've struggled for our livings every pound
has been invested in a manner sound
and we have mapped out every bit of ground
above us in the night are strange new stars

we're not yet ready to receive the shroud
you give us reasons and we'll give you rhyme
our fates and yours are ever closely bound
above us in the night are strange new stars

now we've survived the anguish of long wars
and told our story in a thousand bars
we thought ourselves past all dangers and jars
above us in the night are strange new stars

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 
a time shall come when all folk have to act
no simple choices but a plain desire
to bring us back to a world of clear fact
and light in every heart the sacred fire
with rapid feet with bags already packed
we wait for messages on the swift wire
to take the thing that we always have lacked
beginning low to reach up ever higher

the people long forced down upon their knees
see freedom's banner waving in the breeze

shadow falls on us yet we cannot halt
the world refuses to wait for one man
the fortress will be taken by assault
the ones who dare will be right in the van
freedom's the right of all beneath the vault
we seize the power accepting that we can
with effort overcome each native fault
and put all tyrants underneath the ban

the people long forced down upon their knees
see freedom's banner waving in the breeze

for far too long we've bowed beneath the skies
to clowns whose painted faces seem to shine
with warmth and fervour to fool childish eyes
while they on their soft beds love to recline
knowing that they've already got the prize
proclaiming that injustices are fine
piling the nonsense right upon the lies
their only honest thought is i've got mine

the people long forced down upon their knees
see freedom's banner waving in the breeze

but trapped in corners we are not so tame
that each will cringe surrender on their back
we're not immune to anger nor to shame
we know they waste all of the things we lack
each of us still a person with a name
and not another turnip in a sack
within each heart there burns a sacred flame
we are still human and we will attack

dying afoot's better than bending knees
see freedom's banner waving in the breeze
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (negative avatar)
we have fresh apples now and wine in flagons
but see no unicorns and spy no dragons

choose well the realm where you will sink your heart
for after you will have no proper rest
the whole of life's just playing a small part
routine injustice removes any zest
we find that nature's got a sort of art
but what we see in dreams remains the best
the ones who rule us never give a fart
but simply lie and tell us it's a test

we have fresh apples now and wine in flagons
but see no unicorns and spy no dragons

a child may move from myth onto the map
and find that truth requires a kind of lie
a world half glimpsed between the game and nap
a shape that's written on the empty sky
elves that tread quietly and dare to tap
your sleeping shoulder and stare in your eye
and then we grow up and the world's just crap
you work your arse off and you have to die

we have fresh apples now and wine in flagons
but see no unicorns and spy no dragons

each day we sink far deeper in the hole
burnt in the sun and soaked by dreary rain
we get no closer to the hoped-for goal
and all our promise turns to gritty pain
explorers do not seek the distant pole
all life seems focused on some petty gain
work and commute grind down each weary soul
smiling requires that we must sweat and strain

we have fresh apples now and wine in flagons
but see no unicorns and spy no dragons

a tiny change what others call a blunder
would take us to a place where light is grand
where frolic all the creatures of great wonder
where perish all the tasks and duties bland
a world made out of lighting and thunder
where happy warriors may make a stand
break all the hellish bonds at once asunder
and show us all a better promised land

we have fresh apples still and wine in flagons
but dance with unicorns and sport with dragons
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
a time of change comes quickly on this place
supping the wine from an old-fashioned flagon
desire and hope each fight for proper space
we are now in the age of elf and dragon

lordship of earth shines from a magic face
we load the drunken fools onto a waggon
now comes a time of power and of grace
we are now in the age of elf and dragon

we note the ones of more than human race
of what we built nothing is left but lagan
the chances and the powers here embrace
we now are in the age of elf and dragon

Profile

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
fledgist

March 2015

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22 232425262728
29 3031    

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags