storm passing by

 

before the storm a red and lowering sky
my father's voice calmy says hurricane
the rain that comes turns mountainside to fen
there's not one place that's really truly dry
the pigs are almost washed out of their sty
cattle rush up to huddle in the pen
and hiding in the coop i note a hen
we watch and wait for the storm to pass by
facing the east i see a heavy sun
seeming both weak and dull behind the cloud
while swallows in a hurry all swoop low
things will be different when the day is done
the rain and wind will both be very loud
but we will not experience breeze blow

we are utopia

 

the echo of the mad machine
warns us of yet another hell
sounds that are yet wholly unclean
suppress the organ and the bell
what older folk would not have seen
cannot be hidden by a spell
the angry monsters do not preen
we do not hear the victim yell

a terror that comes in deep night
is not the one we should have known
the words that will each spirit fright
tell us that justice has long flown
the chance of honour is but slight
the crocodile's now fully grown
ancestral deaths it must requite
and into desert turn the sown

shadow of choices we've not made
a fear that life has passed us by
the endless armies on parade
the television's booming lie
we are seduced to be afraid
of screaming death from hateful sky
the ones who could not make the grade
now look on us with horrid eye

there is no longer healing rain
behind the clouds the sun's quite cold
we can no longer see things plain
we are too fearful to be bold
demons occupy the terrain
our spirits now have become old
all we can feel is endless pain

savage wars of peace

 

each dragon bears a monkey on its back
which one's the guide and leader is not clear
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

upon whole elephants the serpents snack
no rider will allow a sign of fear
each dragon bears a monkey on its back

the last knight flees high up the mountain track
the end of chivalry has now come near
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

a heavy smoke comes from volcanic crack
it does not bother those high up in air
each dragon bears a monkey on its back

wolves hunt the shepherds in a hungry pack
while trolls and demons fill the village square
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

a damsel screams then the scene fades to black
and goblins laugh when elf-kind would not dare
each dragon bears a monkey on its back
to fable-mongers we allow no slack

Ann Coulter

The worst thing about Ann Coulter
isn't that she's such a dolt; her
hand is too long,
her words are so wrong,
and it looks like a snake tried to moult her.

a moment back in time

outside the stars are candles in the sky
a single glance and you're pressed down by dark
this is reality not a neat park

there is a terror enters through the eye
you cannot seize it cannot simply mark
outside the stars are candles in the sky

you cannot hear or see a creature fly
meaning you find is hard and cold and stark
the truth is not recorded by a clerk
outside the stars are candles in the sky