Jul. 21st, 2007

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
a share of time requires some careful thought
between the sun and moon there's little dark
not one of us just wants to count for naught

there are some matters where an overwrought
mind will not see the signal nor the mark
a share of time requires some careful thought

those who came willing and those brought
think of this place as some sort of tame park
not one of us just wants to count for naught

no vital lessons learned and no classes taught
can prepare one for the onset of each shark
a share of time requires some careful thought

a moment comes and then we have been caught
in the tight trap when we thought to skylark
not one of us just wants to count for naught

this world of ours with many terrors fraught
seems a tall tree with harsh and brutal bark
a share of time requires some careful thought
not one of us just wants to count for naught

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

a tale once told becomes a common good
what once was closely kept is now well-known
the difference isn't just from 'is' to 'should'
a tale once told becomes a common good

we are each residents of one neighbourhood
the hidden will soon form part of the shown
a tale once told becomes a common good
what once was closely kept is now well-known

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

a single voice is heard through all the din
the speaker is the one who knows the score
now we can't tell whether they're rich or poor

this story must be told without much spin
all liars will be quickly shown the door
a single voice is heard through all the din

not one of us knows if we'll lose or win
we get one gift and then want more
such we are told is every wise one's lore
a single voice is heard through all the din

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
who looks upon the mountains is amazed
not at their height but at the growing trees
that in the pride no angry fires have razed
who looks upon the mountains is amazed

we wouldn't let you see that we'd been fazed
by such intersections of the skies and seas
who looks upon the mountains is amazed
not at their height but at the growing trees

from hurricane to gentle morning breeze
the winds may ruffle that astounding green
it's but a moments work for us to seize
from hurricane to gentle morning breeze

who climbs such heights will in summer freeze
and pause to wonder why such things had been
from hurricane to gentle morning breeze
the winds may ruffle that astounding green

there's not much we could say about that scene
our eyes on other such have rarely gazed
not one of us would choose a haughty mien
there's not much we could say about that scene

you paint your memories on that large screen
all other recollection's soon erased
there's not much we could say about that scene
our eyes on other such have rarely gazed

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

it's time to get up and to exercise
too long time thinking is a pain
the mind cannot withstand the strain

there's something which we might surmise
about the hope for thunder and for rain
it's time to get up and to exercise

not one of us would be accounted wise
we've travelled from this place even to spain
and paddled right along the spanish main
not one of us would be accounted wise

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

you won't be asked to be bold or brave
just do your duty as you ought to do
the choices are not glory or the grave
you won't be asked to be bold or brave

we face the normal option free or slave
the story that we read is nothing new
you won't be asked to be bold or brave
just do your duty as you ought to do

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

what marks the border of the true and real
is not a line nor even one small stake
nor yet a stream in which harsh thirst to slake
we aren't equipped to understand the deal
like condemned villains at their final meal
we hope from this bad dream sudden to wake
and find that all was just a sad mistake
how much then we would weep and laugh and squeal
yet here's the fact between the false and true
we find no marker find no borderline
the world that lies before us has not changed
no startling monsters at once come in view
there's no coarse symbolism to refine
the sane face the same place as the deranged

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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