on the riverbed

some say that waiting does not kill
others that death's a faulty meme
they do not pay the butcher's bill
nor see harsh ending of sweet dream
theirs is the overpowering will
and natural right to the sunbeam
they just command that we be still
while they unhurried make their scheme

augury

shapes in the heat distract the normal eye
you breathe one moment and then swiftly pant
sense is not common it is very scant
shapes in the heat distract the normal eye

we never pause but always hurry by
fearful lest the sleeper arise and rant
shapes in the heat distract the normal eye
you breathe one moment and then swiftly pant

a swifter burn

shadows all vanish into blurry sun
the world's been shrunk into a single need
duty we're told is work and never fun
shadows all vanish into blurry sun

silence rejects the sounds of bomb and gun
there's never reason for a soul to bleed
shadows all vanish into blurry sun
the world's been shrunk into a single need

the truest propaganda's still the deed
our hopes are focused on no other task
but quieting the anger and the greed
the truest propaganda's still the deed

each harvest is inherent in the seed
a single grape will turn into a cask
the truest propaganda's in the deed
our hopes are focused on no other task

behind the face there's still another mask
no smile is true until the sun has set
in torrid sun there is not place to bask
behind the face there's still another mask

each of us empties the expected flask
no one permits occasions of regret
behind the face there's still another mask
no smile is true until the sun has set

we aren't permitted simply to forget
nor are our weapons ever set to stun
fishes escape the inexperienced net
we aren't permitted simply to forget

the rule we're given turns into a bet
that we will not our saddest chances shun
we aren't permitted simply to forget
nor are our weapons ever set to stun

fuzzy logic rules

a little more and we'll be boiled to hell
another kind of magic sets the rules
on that we've nothing to learn in the schools
an answer comes with ringing of the bell
modes rise and fall with every tidal swell
and we move forward on the backs of mules
not knowing which of us remain the fools
and that's the problem we just cannot tell
time comes and goes and we just hear the call
of happy birds expending joyous breath
and when we wake have walked another mile
too soon we know will come the final fall
the year will turn with speed towards its death
and those to come will never crack a smile