Aug. 26th, 2007

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
what's left of this belief that we admire
is not the claim of any noble worth
for all that we know is fixed to the earth
finding reality goes no higher
understanding matter from star to mire
provides us with both gravity and mirth
death is a miracle as much as birth
the alpha and omega are both fire
within the turning sphere that we perceive
are all the things that we could ever need
and all the worlds that we would want to see
we can't make a thing true if we believe
for what we wish is nothing more than greed
our only choices are become or be

an absence

Aug. 26th, 2007 12:07 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

each day we wonder at the sky
and think that it may never rain
we see the clouds go scudding by
each day we wonder at the sky

no reason's left for us to try
what we can see is not so plain
each day we wonder at the sky
and think that it may never rain

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
fill up the bucket and don't spare the time
each of us needs to work and then to rest
we see and so we fear the coming test
all of our memories have turned to slime
what's now forgotten is the steady climb
which we began with energy and zest
knowing our purpose certain in our quest
but now it seems an awful sort of crime
there's a long walk from home down to river
and back again up the slow weary hill
but we must make it to assuage the thirst
a memory alone would make us shiver
knowing that soon will come the urgent bill
so we shall drink the water till we burst

admonition

Aug. 26th, 2007 01:33 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

let every one of us who means to speak
not fear the coming of the daily light
for it's enough to be demure and meek
but not to show that you can still feel fright
the options that we have are not so bright
but in the end we come to understand
we can't just operate on straight command

the rules apply to both the strong and weak
it isn't that the power comes as of right
the one who vanishes is not a freak
but gifted with extraordinary sight
knowing just when to come in proper might
what matters then is what we have to hand
who cares a hoot if it is sharp or bland

who comes to us we might not ever seek
and that is the full measure of our plight
without real help we would be up the creek
trapped in a sort of never-ending night
although we know that symbol is so trite
we're yet obliged to follow when the band
strikes up and passes the reviewing stand

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

waiting for thunder
a long summer afternoon
hope meets with desire

soon we face the fire
knowing the rain must soon come
echoes of wisdom

all hearts are now numb
truth resounds in our old minds
wisest of desires

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
Pseudonymous fools develop fits of pique
when first confronted with a straight critique;
all that then follows, in their twisted sight,
is further evidence of their sad plight.
So to blame those who merely took the mickey
for stupid slurs, sure indicates a thicky.
We aren't surprised that falsehoods they retail
in tones that signify moronic wail,
they hope the reader will lack common sense
and fall in line with their silly pretense.
We aren't supposed to think, merely agree
while they of fact and courtesy are free;
with idiotic threat they seek to cow
any who won't to their slight wisdom bow.

Turning 51

Aug. 26th, 2007 07:49 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
For what we are, for all the debts we owe,
we pay the bills, and the payment comes slow.

A million memories on each heart batter,
the world we have is never once the same;
we live with meanings hidden in the chatter.


On certain days, the sycophants will flatter
but they won't ever want to take the blame;
a million memories on each heart batter.

Earth passes round the sun and we get fatter,
age gives us plain excuse for present shame;
we live with meanings hidden in the chatter.

The truths that we have learned will one day shatter,
and we shall be extinguished with the flame --
a million memories on each heart batter.

Tomorrow we will think of the mad hatter
and all he said to the young future dame:
we live with meanings hidden in the chatter.

We think that what we do will surely matter
that life's much more than a most subtle game.
A million memories on each heart batter,
we live with meanings hidden in the chatter.

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