at the end

some news will frighten though it must arrive
other news comforts frankly from the blue
the observances the things we know are due
matter the most to those who stay alive
and from this fact there's little to derive
we reach this place and find we have no clue
of what comes next we're limited in view
but know our purpose must be to survive
examined in this way it cannot really matter
whether we come or go nor what we say
until the moment comes when we must act
or else stand idle letting all things shatter
despising those who do not share our way
but never knowing what is lie or fact

Wisdom and tea

I plan my next class on good Master Kong
with the fine aid of a large mug of tea,
my thought and planning had been all at sea
but with the warming cup I find my song.
Had it been coffee, all would have gone wrong
my mind would have been hasty and not free,
out of my thinking would have come no tree
of knowledge, shaped perfect and strong.
The warming spirit that the soul revives,
that comes to us from out the mystic East,
gives us assurance to both think and act;
from its kind impulse all that's good derives,
it is the guardian sprite at every feast
and leads us always towards truth and fact.

On fairtrade for Abi Sutherland

Abi, when it is time for you to bake
a little something for some celebration
remember, if you will, the situation
of those who grew the spices that you take.
Those who love fair trade often only make
their choices about drinks, no cerebration
is needed, yet I have the strange sensation
they don't think of what goes in the cake.
The hard, dull work of reaping all that spice
done for low wages (or, in my case, none)
gets no attention from the cognoscenti;
they don't think of the effort or the price
of all that sweating under tropic sun;
those who earn so little should get plenty.

stars and a cuppa

we travel in our minds beyond the stars
the planets circle fast in the mind's eye
in our imaginations we see the scars
of damage made by beings above the sky
of this we're certain for we cannot try
with our bare hands to keep our planet free
we sip from our small cup we wail and cry
and then we get our strength from honest tea

we've sailed a distance seen the ghostly spars
of flying dutchman that is sure no lie
we've watched the light of that red planet mars
and wondered if we could in its air fly
the dreams of burroughs those we cannot buy
with barnes or robinson we might just agree
someone will get there we're certain by and by
and then we get our strength from honest tea

each day the lone commuters in their cars
think as they watch the same old roads go by
of those who're telling stories in the bars
and trying to see through ray bradbury's eye
the martian stories as if from on high
from cluttered minds they now clear the debris
to mars they'll go they know the reason why
and then we get our strength from honest tea

prince or princess when you the future spy
from your high place in the great tall world-tree
with our aspirations you will soon ally
and then we get our strength from honest tea

victory achieved

you drop a man you want his neck to snap
and this is justice this is what crime pays
the hanging is a sign of coming better days
and that the greatest cannot beat the rap
their feet will dangle through the open trap
and laughter serves to cover up the daze
of those who just yesterday would praise
the dead man all their principles are crap
you fight a war to punish just one man
for daring to defy you daring to reject
your vaunted power and such a one must die
you win your battle then find there's no plan
to do the things you wanted to effect
the whole dark enterprise feeds upon a lie

Sonnet for Serge Mailloux

One can be prolix, or one can be terse,
it doesn't matter which approach you take
unless you seek with every word to break
from plainest prose into the finest verse.
It would be better (nothing could be worse),
if you seek a simple poem your own to make,
to plunge in deeply, for, make no mistake,
you want your carriage not to be your hearse.
Now, having said this in Italian rhyme
I make a turn (or volta) to inform
you of the options currently on view;
you've got to work hard to avoid the crime
of violating a long-established norm,
but what you get will be shiny and new.

beam me up

good ways to travel now there are not few
but instantaneous that's the way to go
i head to broadway for the latest show
and after to hawaii for the nicest view
of sunset then to ireland for the dew
of morning somehow one would know
to whom we would this sweetest blessing owe
to have the world as neighbourhood that's new
to call this journey beam or call it spring
does not now matter it's the swiftest way
to travel in the most connected times
far swifter than the aerodynamic wing
the world to survey in a single day
and then to praise in carefully-picked rhymes

riding the air

where the words come from is inside the heart
the music comes from there and from the mind
the shaping can be tough but not unkind
each phoneme each sharp echo plays a part
in showing artlessness made out of sweated art
though some would say we do not make but find
reality is that we struggle each day half-blind
pretending that our efforts make us smart
yet when the words come we can't stop the flow
they know their purpose know just where to fit
and we're the mediums there to give them voice
no thought is needed they've some place to go
constraint comes on us as soon as we sit
at desk or table we're never given choice