laboro ergo sum

nothing quite fits the moment that requires
our action or our thought to intervene
between the sunlight or the dying fires
the towers in the distance seem to lean
what's known and measured isn't always good
the unknown beckons but it may be sure
what's done or made is always understood
our hopes and dreams are never quite secure
beyond this day lurk many fearful things
for obligation not desire must lead
and like a puppet on the thinnest strings
the dutiful agent must repeat the deed
our actions like our hopes will always run
in hope of being warmed by the cold sun

scraped is the sky

the song always brings tears to my eyes
but that's not now there is no time for that
we've got to find the latest-minted lies
or to proclaim that so-and-so's a cat
or praise their new invention to the skies
in instantly forgotten tv chat
just so the masses can feel they have got
a sense that they are owners of the lot

the music changes to a thoughtful note
but will be followed by announcer's speech
she'll give her normal maunderings full throat
but marketing decisions dictate reach
at least she's not a sacrificial goat
or whale that lies deserted on the beach
announcing music's not an easy job
when you've got tons of adjectives to lob

i've got some people for whom i must wait
so i sit here though i have work to do
though they're aware i'm busy they'll be late
it's the same story here the whole day through
the train has always caught them at the gate
though their objective they can clearly view
the sort of thing that we just blame on fate
though when you travel is a thing of choice
such words will not be uttered in my voice

you've got to wonder at the way the sky
seems joyful cloudless a bright clear blue
presaging warmth when that's just a plain lie
this is the kind of weather that brings flu
the frozen air will make you wonder why
you chose to go outside to see the view
or why you cannot on this day just shirk
your obligations and stay home from work

but duty calls and you'll answer her call
to do your job and to complain in quiet
to note the mould that's growing on the wall
and wonder if it'll make you sooner buy it
whether you call the season autumn or fall
you want to do something to defy it
but there's no hope you grimly realise
and all these thoughts just stay behind your eyes

no proper time of day

we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire
the light reflects quite bright from the white walls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

the music's best when there's no booming choir
to test the dim acoustics of the halls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire

there is a seller but there is no buyer
the market without reciprocity just stalls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

thomas hood's poem will not raise my ire
all pleasure in november simply palls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire

dead leaves we'll pile up into a huge pyre
most loathed and hated of the times windfalls
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

who joys in this bleak time is a denier
of any who for warmth and pleasure calls
we've got some heat though thank goodness no fire
whoever praises autumn's a damned liar

academic thoughts

tit's the right time to go out for a drink
forget about the job and all that shit
or sit back in my chair and simply think
or come up with some coruscating wit
the day's gone on too long i'm on the brink
of getting up and just plain skiving it
but that would not be good or so i'm told
though i should just be simply bad and bold

the wonder's that i'm here and attending
to troubles nonsense lies and honest thought
the problem's that it all seems to be blending
into a single lump of value nought
where both the false and the heart-rending
tales leave me feeling cold and quite uncaught
this is the thing about this role or part
how long exposure calcifies the heart

who's got the power in this working relation
but the one who begs or wheedles or who cries
or claims that bad circumstance and situation
have caused the harm and provoked all the lies
who can in loud voice falsify frustration
and shout their fancy stories to the skies
though frankly each time i'm told a lie
i smile and nod though really i should sigh

then there's the one who copies it all out
and says the work's original and true
when caught the stammering foolish lout
acts like he hasn't got a single clue
as to what it is i'm so angry about
and why i seem so totally in a stew
while i in manner most direct and blunt
condemn the idiot for his dumb stunt

i'm most pleased with those of them who try
who know that there's more to it than a grade
who seek the answer for sound knowledge pry
and understand that words will be their trade
they provoke a smile and not a weary sigh
for them my enthusiasm does not fade
but most see learning as a sort of tree
up which they climb to capture a degree

it doesn't matter how the world is run
they're all americans so they don't care
the class just interrupts their job or fun
not as good as the gossip on the stair
the hard graft of thinking they will shun
until they do the lsats and they find
to pass them requires some skills of mind

if there are wrongs then whitey is to blame
and nothing's changed for the past sixty years
if i could find a time machine to tame
and sent them back they'd soon dissolve in tears
but i cannot and think it such a shame
they can't look beyond their tiny spheres
but if i could the secret of such trips unlock
and sent them back they'd all die from the shock

life is so simple when you're swift and young
black's black white's white and that they say is that
the simple thoughts come tripping off glib tongue
they'll fix the world's problems in nothing flat
i think of all the men and women hung
by lynch mobs for what was just back-chat
no need to wonder what they would have done
in those conditions they'd have cried and run

now back to work and then i'll have my lunch
i think about my work and then i think
of those who stand out clearly from the bunch
whose minds grasp problems quicker than a wink
who're starting to see just how an honest hunch
leads to solutions in a fast eyeblink
those are the ones who make me nod and smile
remind me that the task can be worthwhile

no grim brothers

the story that is told may not be true
but is the only story that we hear
the characters aren't real and will not sue
beside to what court could appeal a bear
the little girl who always gets off free
is white and blond and has bright blue eyes
she claims the bear chased her up a tree
and smiles and dimples as she tells her lies
the stories that we learn are always nice
they don't describe the horrid aftermath
nor who the victim is who pays the price
who is imprisoned just for righteous wrath
the greatest liars of history all pale
beside the author of this fairy-tale

reading the internet

fragments of poetry
messages sent heard noted
urgently needed

marvellous stories
these give us little reason
to dream of fairies

brittle the moment
but no one will listening
break up the tension

greeter of morning
the bird will never notice
that you have heard him