a crashing bore

and suddenly silence and the screen's blank
face a steady amber light glows it mocks
my urgency that's the first of the shocks
hope has been low since last atlantis sank
the fields of mind are fallow weeds are rank
the ship of joy has foundered on the rocks
once mobile feet are prisoned in the stocks
there is no laughter outside the closed bank
time moves and outside we can see the light
creeping from eastward like a comic thief
and in the distance railway horns announce
that trains are coming and will take the right
of passage on that route the diesel's chief
while calm and justice weigh out by the ounce

long before the sun

fog on the ground at our departing hour
the dark weighs more than we might think
still we see in the distance a golden tower

we hope for that revivifying shower
to let the thirsty earth awake and drink
fog on the ground at our departing hour

in shadowy corner the small beasts cower
we note their eyes they never blink
still we see in the distance a golden tower

the hillside hides the city and the flower
no light comes through the smallest chink
fog on the ground at our departing hour

the lights of cars don't blind but glower
above the sky seems a deep pool of ink
still we see in the distance a golden tower

so we may have the joy but not the power
we're far from falling but still on the brink
fog on the ground at our departing hour
still we see in the distance a golden tower

outside my office window

the memory of green will not sustain
through the long winter the dull grey
provides a chill even on brightest day
the sleeping trees awaken all my pain
there's never hope from snow or rain
it seems a tragedy bare branches sway
even the squiirrels don't seem to play
sunlight itself appears to groan and strain
now here these greens dark and pale
varied colours of the morning flowers
tell us that grey skies cannot truly last
the wind now soothes it does not wail
we have some perfect gentle hours
and throw our suffering into the past

some final lamentation

if in the end we do not choose
between the fire and the flood
we silence calls about the blood
and all together cool the fuse
there's nothing left here to abuse
the law has fallen with a thud
the bomb turns out to be a dud
and all our anger seems a ruse
instead we turn and look for light
the journey takes us to the east
but nowhere can we find our rest
there's no surcease even for night
the human tide turns to the beast
and no hope rises in the west