in the name of freedom

we see those faces on the television screen
their voices calm or angry yet we're told they're wise
though when we judge their words they all are lies
we're compelled to take our places in the machine
and accept as honest what's really obscene
or else we'll be subjected to the spies
and though the odour rises to the skies
we're reassured that everything is clean
in hidden prisons we've punished weak men
who stand accused of crimes that in a court
would be dismissed with anger by a judge
but we're afraid that awful day will come again
and don't want at that time to be caught short
so from our insane choice we will not budge

and now it is the time

if when the sun at last warms the metal chair
and you can tough the walls without a shiver
your body rejects all pain and does not quiver
in grief or anguish now what seems most fair
is that you've come to understand and care
and know that you can at all times deliver
the warmth that's needed before that last river
you'll have some satisfaction for your share
now for the light to make us all feel blessed
by joyous day to walk without a qualm
would be enough to make the sad rejoice
this has been real it has not been a test
in deepest winter you have brought true balm
the answers were all given in good voice

producing light not heat

When we use words we know just what they mean
but on their way to others' ears they change
and on arrival sound bizarre, fragmented, strange
both in their form and meaning. We have seen
this happen enough times in our lives, have been
aware that all signs and signifiers will range
between the possible and plausible, in exchange
we learn to keep our senses sharp and keen.
Now, when some villain enters with vile intent
to trap and shear those innocent as sheep
we rise as one and drive her from the stage;
we hope with all our hearts that they repent,
but also know that justice will not keep;
we know what message stays clear on the page.

from the panopticon

it's not the motive that counts but the lack of consent
the effect's the same as if done with forethought
crime's judged as an act not as a matter of intent

we can't avoid it by shifting of emphasis or accent
this is the kind of story that can't in the end be bought
it's not the motive that counts but the lack of consent

but what if in the doing we pause and then repent
turn ourselves in without waiting to be caught
crime's judged as an act not as a matter of intent

the hounds of justice are a breed that never will relent
the consequences are those that you have wrought
it's not the motive that counts but the lack of consent

the tree that bears the bitterest fruit is bent
by all the weight of pain and wasted thought
crime's judged as an act not as a matter of intent

the last cry will be heard we know you will lament
the chances that were lost the battles left unfought
it's not the motive that counts but the lack of consent
crime's judged as an act not as a matter of intent

the glitter attracts

where the diamonds glint filling the heart with greed
there's nothing there that i would want or desire
but others know the heat of the unsacred fire
and cannot make the break between desire and need
each gemstone is a kind of sterile seed
that raises hopes but also raises ire
and when its task is done makes us require
the things on which our nature dares not feed
now here we have the answer that we sought
which gives us neither solace nor regret
but cannot give us what we really want
which is to cross the ditch between is and ought
find what will in the end all pains forget
and will resist the fiercest jibe or taunt

generosity

if we provide a place where you may sleep
in all the safety that this world provides
we would expect your thanks to be quite deep

there's nothing that we can create or keep
that won't in time force us to taking sides
if we provide a place where you may sleep

the hours of darkness much more slowly creep
in all those places where there are no tides
we would expect your thanks to be quite deep

you won't be cast aside thrown on the heap
this is no place where mastery derides
if we provide a place where you may sleep

in time we'll comfort you for each failed leap
and will not smile at those uneven strides
we would expect your thanks to be quite deep

our charity would bring the strong to weep
it would not do them any good besides
if we provide a place where you may sleep
we would expect your thanks to be quite deep

angle of vision

the hills that we see lead to greater heights
and when we reach them there's another hill
that we must climb if we have yet the will
to struggle through the warmest days and nights
we never announce the secret fears and frights
that we'll be ground so finely by the mill
instead we hope that what we learn won't kill
and that we'll have the answer dead to rights
though ill and tired we will not say we're weak
but pull our feet up step by weary step
unto the places where we have hoped to be
there's a reward when on the highest peak
we find a way to revive or hope and pep
when from a distance we observe the sea