our hope and happiness

when we begin we seek the afterglow
the light of a banked fire in every eye
we're ruthless in the swell and in the flow
when we begin we seek the afterglow

in deepest summer we desire the snow
we're fearful of the dark and lowering sky
when we begin we seek the afterglow
the light of a banked fire in every eye

not now to envy the fresh young and spry
do we require that they pass every test
from mountain to the rivers running by
not now to envy the fresh young and spry

all power of magic resides in the lie
that we accept and colour as a jest
not now to envy the fresh young and spry
do we require that they pass every test

this world we face requires both vim and zest
to smile when we would rather choose to glower
to accept mere good rather than just and best
this world we face requires both vim and zest

to have to move when each would want to rest
is the condition of the urgent hour
this world we face requires both vim and zest
to smile when we would rather choose to glower

at once to move and stay in the safe tower
we have to choose and still we want to know
whether our love remains warm in the bower
at once to move and stay in the safe tower

all in the end comes down to will and power
the need and the desire to make things so
at once to move and stay in the safe tower
we have to choose and still we want to know

dialectic processes

shadow and thought they chase each other
we've not the time to understand the deal
shaped calls the unshaped sister brother
shadow and thought they chase each other

we make the junction one way or another
on the last document we place our seal
shadow and thought they chase each other
we've not the time to understand the deal

weather gauge

a means of noting just what seems to matter
contained in a small space we think it plain
not seeing the great powers swell and strain
to put our needs and wants out on a platter
the world outside seeks for rattle and clatter
while we want calm and thought but never pain
each of us watches for the soothing rain
hoping no thunder our cool calm will shatter
cheap truths we've got to offer and to vend
all deeper understandings have to wait
for harder times and far less pleasant days
to every correspondent we shall send
enough to make them eager for the gate
and most desirous of the better ways

impatience regnant

another time another kind of choice
time and the world are wholly out of joint
not one of us can raise a cheery voice
and none of us can still recall the point

reel out the line you cannot see the end
infinity's a word for just such times
the one who smiles is never just a friend
but one who contemplates much harsher climes

at times we wonder just why we have come
to do our jobs and meet our daily goals
we aren't required to understand the sum
nor will we disappear into dark holes

truth is we ask so little from each day
we've left behind all that we had to say

ghosts on the grave

the laughing voice says nothing could be wrong
each look outside to see the gathering cloud
we shake our heads and then demand more song

day's all too short and nights are ever long
we hate the silence play the music loud
the laughing voice says nothing could be wrong

we curse the weak and still envy the strong
define ourselves as haughty stiff and proud
we shake our heads and then demand more song

we hate the ones who won't come on along
but then we're frightened when we see a crowd
the laughing voice says nothing could be wrong

each of us fears the fire and the sharp prong
but cannot now retreat because we've vowed
we shake our heads and then demand more song

we're driven mad by thoughts of angry throng
making demands for more than we've allowed
the laughing voice says nothing could be wrong
we shanke our heads and then demand more song

literary theory

we lose all meaning and now plain old time
becomes another far more alien thing
it's changed into a temporal paradigm
words lacking meaning but with a loud ring
we might have thought verbosity sublime
we're told to value literary bling
plain talk's a dominant oppresive crime
let all our thoughts be thinner than old string
we'll call our words an analytic climb
theory meant vision when the world was young
but now it means to throw out many words
let nonsense be pronounced by eager tongue
and claim as jewels old and smelly turds
leave out good sense serious critique and tact
and never ever pause to check a fact