i couldn't possibly comment

 the wonder is that changes do not hurt
the pain's inside and owes most to delay
we've left our terrors cringing in the dirt

the answers given now are rude and curt
the angry mouths their spittle widely spray
the wonder is that changes do not hurt

around the problems politicians skirt
they fill the silence with the words they say
we've left our terrors cringing in the dirt

the fearless leader's caught in sudden spurt
fleeing the sunlight into soothing grey
the wonder is that changes do not hurt

with honesty and honour they now flirt
but ask a question and they will not stay
we've left our terrors cringing in the dirt

so rare it is these days when truths they blurt
that it seems like a sudden bright new day
the wonder is that changes do not hurt
we've left our terrors cringing in the dirt

not raw the day

the birds that cast their shadows on the wall
can tell that things are changing but not why
they see the leaves turn colour and then fall
and note how few clouds pass across the sky
the browns and greys are calm against the blue
the light turns beige to butter in the calm
the colder days are coming we know that's true
but the mild sunshine acts now as a balm
the thoughts that come now are not ones of dread
eirenic notes are passing through the air
the day is good the table will soon be spread
we've worked hard so that we can banish care
i drink my tea and think of warmer things
and all the good that this mild season brings

gladly wolde iche lerne and gladly teche

the current set of intellectual norms
requires that we develop sharp critique
of the masks beneath which our reality forms
without producing either rancour or pique
although outside the crazy preacher storms
announcing that armageddon is next week
which makes it hard either to learn or teach
when half the class thinks heaven's within reach

the problem that one faces in the classroom
is different from the problem of debate
you're got young people with a fear of doom
if they the instructor happen to berate
and others sunk in deepest dullest gloom
because the one they want's broken the date
so they sit there pretending full attention
while in their minds are things no one should mention

who cares how those distant countries all are run
they're not america so they don't count
they're not lit by the same hot earnest sun
their rivers do not flow from honest fount
students long to see if the hour's at last done
when to their ears their mobile phones will mount
for being out of touch with sometime friends
could lead to all sorts of distasteful trends

nothing brings anger to the student phiz
or annoys them enough to make them groan
as when they find they're going to get a quiz
and on the subject they're as dumb as stone
and even the one who thinks that she's a whiz
wishes that she could call out on her phone
because you know with daylight still to burn
it's much too hard to either think or learn

and as if that were not too great a fight
consider that when an essay's come due
they think that it's a torture to sit and write
because they know they haven't got a clue
to study's much too hard or only for the bright
who have a plan these four years to get through
but if once out they're stuck then god almighty
the fault for that is clearly down to whitey

calling from marta

in the hot city
for me only you exist
riding to rescue

no thought but worship
calling from the train i say
please be there sweetie

you i see waiting
glad in that moment smiling
homeward at long last

history from an angle

the battle's been decided by great treason
the losing leader's already bought and sold
yet still his men look to him for a reason
to stand and fight although they have been told
that they're to go free once the day is ended
they're not to be counted among the worst
still they have desire for vengeance blended
with the knowledge that they're already cursed
nothing else can explain that final angry stand
the way they rushed themselves into the battle
most eager to serve and die at his command
seeing the enemy as no more than cattle
they enter into the last combat the final affray
not knowing that they're characters in a play