watching and listening

 above the body vultures slowly turn
their wings flap once and then they gently glide
i watch them from above on mountain's side
while not too distant cooking fires still burn
carrion birds will eat those things we'd spurn
and yet they're still too ugly for our pride
these graceful creatures that the thermals ride
our deaths the only things for which they yearn
some on the banjo and the guitar strum
while they sing of the times that are to be
but they are silenced by the wailing horn
each heartbeat is repeated by the drum
in the far distance we have sight of sea
and cleaner beings waiting to be born

cleaning pimento

 

it is not sights but smells that take me back
the dust of spices sits within my brain
and memories of memories in train
my mind has fallen down an open crack
the rope will hold me it has enough slack
i hear old stories and i know their strain
tales of past suffering and of others' pain
while the imposing present fades to black
we never learn just what we ought to know
but who we are is more than just a line
and heavy odours lull us all to sleep
and now we've found out where we have to go
in every corner now the sun must shine
but we can't choose whose memories to keep

the page turns

 

trivial time to think of when we'll meet
choices were made that set us on our way
into the distance sails the royal fleet

who has the choice exactly whom to greet
is king of flowers more than just a day
trivial time to think of when we'll meet

days of good weather still seem to us sweet
with minds that are not close to adult sway
into the distance sails the royal fleet

we skip the stones and then have to repeat
the one who laughs will let the water spray
trivial time to think of when we'll meet

with glorious colours we're now replete
yet have not good excuse to pause or stay
into the distance sails the royal fleet

we've left our morning faces on the street
look up and see the world is turning grey
trivial time to think of when we'll meet
into the distance sails the royal fleet

lacking true vision

 

we shape the words to make a better sense
but no one listens with an open heart
at being human they make vague pretence

to them what matters are the pounds and pence
for principles they would not give a fart
we shape the words to make a better sense

it is for trivia they're most intense
for all the scenes in which they won't take part
at being human they make vague pretence

about their future they seem the most dense
none gets to the finish if they don't start
we shape the words to make a better sense

this forced opacity is so immense
it can't be pierced by any lighted dart
at being human they make vague pretence

not one of them could safely journey hence
absent all science and lacking all art
we shape the words to make a better sense
at being human they make vague pretence

at the fallen temple

here is no echoing of older places
we move our feet to no determined tune
reading the symbols ancient glyph or rune

the gods who reared us have lost their faces
and now we're lost beneath the plenilune
here is no echoing of older places

we grant due service to wilder graces
the palace now is hidden under dune
not one of us from terror is immune
here is no echoing of older places