the gospel of w

not now the building of a better nation
with jobs for all a starting-point of hope
instead we shall not cease from exploitation
and those without must simply learn to cope
implicit in the concept of the battle
is that warring bands know how to fight
but if we've got just rival herds of cattle
they can keep lowing till the fall of night
to call for higher pay and perks is foolish
the market automatically sets the right wage
in deepest winter weather is just coolish
and to complain's just wind and empty rage
the wealthy should not face a single hurdle
or else the milk of their compassion'll curdle

War without a name

 We're all agreed that it's a bloody shame
that Georgie's little war in Arab land,
though in the news, has not yet got a name
that history will use to understand
just how the Yankees got into this mess,
and how they drew in that ass Tony Blair;
that gives a simple label to the process
which brought the dragon war out of its lair.
We've got some names, names formal and names cute,
we call it Dubya's War, or simply Occupation,
refer to George appearing in a flight-suit,
or else to problems when you build a nation.
And, if we hesitate, or seem to ponder, well
for the Iraqis this whole thing is hell.

looking west at dawn

the shadow of the mountain deepens night
we see it disappearing at the sunrise
the ghosts that it brought will now all take flight

over the eastern horizon we see the bright
portents of day that come as no surprise
the shadow of the mountain deepens night

we've had no problem understanding slight
changes in the darkness before our eyes
the ghosts that it brought will now all take flight

yet we have not yet comprehended quite
how simple darkness feeds our minds with lies
the shadow of the mountain deepens night

we're sure of our reason certain of the might
of mental power to penetrate dark skies
the ghosts that it brought will now all take flight

we see the shadow receding from the height
the day restores the hopes that dark denies
the shadow of the mountain deepens night

the darkness vanishes like a dying blight
the morning bird its randiness now cries
the shadow of the mountain deepens night
the ghosts that it brought will now all take flight