unnecessary learning

you lay out the rules and they appear to hear
but take no note after all this is hard work
and there's no pay for it much easier to shirk
the responsibility now the future is another year
and we haven't reached it yet who could care
about what's just some random teacher's quirk
for accurate communication a simple smirk
is all the judgment that one needs to bear
witness to the fact that one is not here to learn
but to get a degree and the best possible grade
that can be achieved with no effort that is all
one wants there's never any need to burn
the midnight oil and all learning will fade
meanwhile one waits for the latest squeeze's call

senior thesis

all you have to do is tell a simple story
not like gossip not all in a single breath
as if you'd burst or catch your death
if you didn't hurry it is no old or hoary
tale although it may involve whig and tory
more likely it will tell of aids or crystal meth
or more violence than mentioned in macbeth
but this may be your first step towards glory
there are some simple rules that you need follow
that make the tale coherent and sensate
but they are but the frame within which you
will fill out what would else be just a hollow
shape not just with fact number name and date
but bring a realm of knowledge into view

a moment of truth

in the quiet afternoon each rumble of the train
vibrates in rhythm with an excited heart
not knowing that this marks the newest start
of a life measured in both stress and strain
but now there may be a chance to do things plain
each place has been a sojourn in no part
of land or building was there stake or chart
of more than passage mere shelter from the rain
dignified it is true by old and honoured name
but not possessed not held not to be defended
with life and force a mere transitory scrim
against raw nature no cause given for blame
when no security that could not be ended
at will but now the heart rises and the eyes dim

inspired by pondal

i dreamt i heard the bells
from a place deep in the heart
the memory simply quells
the pain of being apart

the breezes that once i greeted
are far-off and nearly forgot
in this space the air is heated
and outside it is even more hot

the thoughts of defeat and of prison
were far from the joys of my youth
to conquest i thought we had risen
but otherwise turned out the truth

in joining the great expedition
i'd thought i'd be making a change
in this tired world's old condition
but now that seems too strange

to have been thought or desired
by anyone of normal sense
but young men are heavily wired
and to reason's pleadings are dense

to listen to falsehoods and wheezes
while thinking of glory and gain
is to leave behind the fresh breezes
and embrace the heat and the pain

the moon that rides there in the sky
is the same moon of young love
but here i regret that the lie
rose so much higher above

any thought that war meant honour
instead of destruction and death
at least i'm not yet a goner
but measure the cost of each breath

the pain and the noise and the heat
one could take if there were a chance
that from the despair and defeat
humanity at least could advance

but no one's seen where the power
to link every one to the whole
has vanished in this hateful hour
of decency's opposite pole

the days of brief triumph were magic
but they may not come by again
the ending is bound to be tragic
and that is both painful and plain

do not in the time that's remaining
assume that the evils are past
somewhere the foul hounds are training
and this fight will not be the last

the value of speeches is zero
that's one thing i have learned
the speaker is just a false hero
and victory still must be earned

so now in the heat of this prison
i sigh and i wince and i moan
the moon in the east is now risen
and my heart is dead as a stone

a wider hell

the choices that we make are always hard
but guns and butter that one should not be
as difficult even an aristocratic fool can see
that few wars are worth the young lives marred
and the kindred sitting outside in the yard
weeping hot tears that could fill up a sea
then there are those with minds and bodies scarred
we see them begging on the winter street
their rags of uniform no longer the clean proud
symbol of a democracy with values of bright gold
in each face there's a personal defeat
that tells us volumes though not one is loud
and all they ask is shelter from the cold