all our yesterdays

the glass will rise and all our days return
to where they were and it will not be cold
the flock will be released out of the fold
with frost our fingers will no longer burn
the breezes that above our heads now churn
will once more be both calm and controlled
we'll pay no price as we slowly grow old
but for long years of past time we will yearn
so now the names and faces of the past
grow faint their echo we'll not for long hear
who were those folk at last we will not know
onto strange rivers we have long been cast
the burdens we have none should ever bear
and where we've been you should never go

the rhetoric of injustice

the words we read don't matter any more
instead we listen to the speech of fools
the products of the better private schools
who foresee arrival at an imagined shore
they advocate things we'd not seen before
subordination to some fake ancient rules
thinking we're free we've become mere tools
befuddled we don't really know the score
the meanings we assign are not those true
significances that sit beyond our world
that plato thought were there we can refuse
to pay the bills on days when they fall due
the flag of our conviction has been furled
and we are lying when we think we choose

seeking the right direction

a million journeys start from the same place
each of our footsteps makes a distinct mark
each spirit shows its presence in the face

the ones who win are those who play the ace
the game goes faster when we're in the dark
a million journeys start from the same place

what once we proudly did we now seek to erase
the joy we have does not raise a fresh spark
each spirit shows its presence in the face

what's generally believed is often not the case
on the great ship we've all wished to embark
a million journeys start from the same place

we praise uniqueness but others will now replace
what we have been and done things are that stark
each spirit shows its presence in the face

all things desired may come but bring no grace
the ship that voyages is followed by the shark
a million journeys start from the same place
each spirit shows its presence in the face

to live with what was here

you marvel that the answer comes with haste
the magic that we look for works too slow
around our bodies we see a faint glow
the power we wield is rarely to our taste
yet once expended cannot be replaced
when given choice we never want to go
but once in the river we cannot halt the flow
our fates and actions are ever interlaced
yet when the sortilege has come unstuck
we always want to blame some vagrant mage
and not our own misuse of guile or glamour
our energies could in no way run amuck
is what we say and set down on the page
hoping in that way to avoid the fatal hammer
yet when it comes we hesitate and stammer
we want to hide and yet can't move to duck
our fear turns once more into dumb rage
we blame the fates we blame our stupid luck
we wonder just what brought us to this stage
for swift reprieve we want in vain to clamour
yet when the time comes we must truth face
we still may summon some remaining grace