crystal clear

the truth is somewhere in the empty blue
against it the last leaves those coloured rags
recently so many now a remnant few
still brave and noble like a herd of flags
now what we wait for isn't just the cold
of winter coming like a noisy train
we're almost ready now to shed the old
and seize upon the new bright thing again
patience is hard when you have seen the turn
nor is is it easy waiting through the lies
the temper holds itself to a slow burn
and silent looks up at the bluest skies
tomorrow we will learn the news we seek
and hope it's the best ending to this week

an excellent hero

the face on the cover is not what sells the book
the story it tells is simply not what matters
there's something though in his experienced look

what he was once we know the road that he forsook
now we accept there were no golden platters
the face on the cover is not what sells the book

the tale now seems complex to tell hero from crook
we're not able now to do without being mad as hatters
there's something through in his experienced look

the enemy's no more to speak hate's now mistook
for the energy it was then as long as the portrait flatters
the face on the cover is not what sells the book

when seen in death the casket hid the hand that shook
the adversary's and there's no word now that shatters
there's something though in his experienced look

what's left's only the intro message we call it the hook
that draws them in the smile that always flatters
the face on the cover is not what sells the book
there's something though in his experienced look

brightness is all

old stories give us no reason to wonder
at who the actors were or what they cared
their history's existence was a blunder
or else a false account that no one dared
to challenge or to just define as wrong
because that would have meant accepting fact
and it's much easier to hear a simple song
and then applaud in a display of tact
we've seen them emerge from the deepest hell
but never wondered what they saw in there
and if they wanted to speak out then well
we made pretense of kindness and of care
the answer to the question's never said
it's kept inside the guardian's fine head

dark phantasy

avoid the shadows where the dark ones hide
the forests hold the monsters from your dreams
if you're caught out at night beware the devil's ride

a host of dangers fill this world where we abide
reality is not the straightforward thing it seems
avoid the shadows where the dark ones hide

the ones who keep their faces covered are not snide
if you looked on them we'd not calm your screams
if you're caught out at night beware the devil's ride

your blood would freeze if i spoke of the things i've spied
unless bright sunlight cleansed all with its beams
avoid the shadows where the dark ones hide

you know of the dead lady i heard the words she cried
now i won't go by that dread place even while light gleams
if you're caught out at night beware the devil's ride

there's none who can be trusted for even i have lied
from under us there rise most noisome steams
avoid the shadows where the dark ones hide
if you're caught out at night beware the devil's ride

laud we the gods

 

in earliest times the concepts were quite clear
everything had a meaning that all knew
the gods were everywhere in the bright air
they told their subjects that's us what to do
their names were things of magic and of power
their priests wore mystery like a shiny cloak
each fane stood all surmounted by a tower
and to the divine rose up crooked smoke
answers were simple then though not direct
the pythoness uttered complex tales in rhyme
we wondered at their strength at their effect
and knew that disbelief was a great crime
now there's a deeper and far longer way
the gods have died or vanished in our day

the gospel according to holy george

we've got the thing we wanted that is war
the victims die each day and we stand by
we claim that we didn't really know the score
but each claim is swift uncovered as a lie
what we've done is pick at an open sore
and laugh and laugh as orphan children cry
we've got the power the will the immense might
what we say what we do must be right

who dies or lives will not disturb our feast
pardoning turkeys is the best of powers
who cares that we've unleashed a hungry beast
we want revenge for our swift-fallen towers
the west must triumph over the dark east
our backers know these are their finest hours
but children wounded or dead in the alleys
we have no time for these political sallys

we'll swallow camels whole at gnats we will not strain
torture's acceptable when the skin is dark or brown
those people you know they don't really feel the pain
besides have you seen the shithouse they call a town
it shouldn't trouble even your most delicate brain
and if you choose to argue we'll laugh and call you clown
we can control and determine the average guy's views
for we're the ones who decide just what makes news

in time you'll thank us for our most decisive deeds
for making sure our profits and gaining all that oil
for planting in sure ground the eager seeds
that will grow into forests with watering and toil
democracy we'll call the system that needs
our arms to back it lest the plain folk recoil
and who cares if our stories are just plain lies
we look so dapper in our neat suits and ties

making sense of time

even in stillness
there is no rest for my mind
urgency commands

mandate of heaven
this is not the thing you seek
i do not face south

equine announcement
the cavalry not coming
fleeing in panic

images broken
woken by sunlight in eye
dream vanishes now

first the words then the music

i don't know what the words mean but they're clear
what matters to me is the music underneath
the love for sound crept on me caught unaware
and now the magic's got me firmly in its teeth
it's what i'd sing i know if only i really could
it sounds so easy but i know the practice's hard
i think of friars chanting each under a hood
or duellers preparing to fight in some stableyard
the applause comes like an oceanic wave
loud but still sharp and shocking as the cold
the music till then had held me like a slave
or like the rhymer in the ancient tale we're told
here in the dark the house is warm and bright
but on the air come memories loaded with candlelight

out of the shadow

in brightest city
the pit inside gives off an
aura of darkness

but in no corner
has night any real power
to slay our new sun

morning returns soon
what comes comes and that is all
any could expect

after rosalía

when i think that you've gone away
you return and laugh right in my face
your cloud brings darkness at midday
i've come last of all the human race
when i imagine that you've left
you show yourself in the sun's eye
my back is bent constantly to your heft
the chance of slaying you i know a lie
you are the wind that blows across the plain
you are the star set shining up above
you are the song your weeping is the rain
and you are night and dawn and even love
you are the all and in all that i see
until i die you won't abandon me

language tools

machine translations make a hash of sense
so many words but not all mean the same
it's got the right of it when it comes to tense
but faces trouble with each proper name
the problem with saving is not i'd say the amount
but the salvific properties found in as you might say
a checquebook given for each bank account
for the road you see is not the only way
given the literal meaning of each chosen word
the grammar's less a problem than the style
the whole compendium stops short of absurd
but makes you laugh at least a little while
in any language certain things stay true
and simple phrases all say i love you