constructive engagement

 

for what we're apt we may not always tell
there's not much room for honour to take form
we wait in vain for the returning storm

we listen to the music rise and swell
the shapes it makes assemble and deform
for what we're apt we may not always tell

the direst sound of all is the slow knell
what's best of all is soft and gently warm
and somewhere in between we find the norm
for what we're apt we may not always tell

a sort of perfection

 

across the sky the clouds still slowly creep
without much notice and without acclaim
right now i had much rather be asleep
we cannot on our own these days proclaim
for rest or love not even for old fame
instead we wait to seek just what will hap
in hope the lion still is kind and tame
and only wants to snore and take a nap

the life we want is neither broad nor deep
most people just want things to be the same
and all expenses to come out quite cheap
we aren't expecting to receive the blame
for those who left nor yet for those who came
our wisdom and our purses both to tap
cat seems to think this not much of a game
and only wants to snore and take a nap

we don't expect the passing clouds to keep
not even when the sun turns them aflame
as through the lattices small children peep
we think of this as just another frame
a service that we choose not to proclaim
since we don't want the audience to clap
the sleepy feline has some other aim
and only wants to snore and take a nap

prince you won't think it horrid or a shame
nor even some unsubtle sort of trap
to praise the one who eschews wealth and fame
and only wants to snore and take a nap

plain governance

 we let the shepherds wander through the rocks
the sheep are not lost and won't wander long
one must control the movements of the flocks

you put the prisoner in the public stocks
but all the people chorus his last song
we let the shepherds wander through the rocks

too easily we praise the one who mocks
and do not see such actions as just wrong
one must control the movement of the flocks

there is a better school than old hard knocks
but saying that alone won't make you strong
we let the shepherds wander through the rocks

a wiser one might shake his hoary locks
and take his place within the growing throng
one must control the movement of the flocks

you know enough to withstand the worst shocks
and the best way to work and play along
we let the shepherds wander through the rocks
one must control the movement of the flocks

another victory comes cheap

 

a wonder that we cast no shadows here
the sun's not bright enough to give them shape
still now the gate is just as wide agape
as if no horrors had been coming near
we know that far worse beings shall appear
and then there'll be no option to escape
but only to surrender bow and scrape
and hope that backs are strong enough to bear
not just the weight but also all the wrongs
that history imposed on other forms
you know how much you want to creep and cower
and yet you're forced to join in the songs
proclaim the change as one to better norms
and hope these masters won't have a long hour

finding the joke

 truth we find out is always much too cheap
the worth of honesty comes out far less
there's nothing we should honour or should keep

the price of decency turns out too steep
for those who to no great crimes will confess
truth we find out is always much too cheap

we walk towards destruction in our sleep
and all unknowing find we've had bad cess
there's nothing we should honour or should keep

we sow what others will come by to reap
the grapes and olives we won't bring to press
truth we find out is always much too cheap

if we explore new seas we won't go deep
when moderation's taken for excess
there's nothing we should honour or should keep

we pile the fools' gold up in a great heap
and think that this will constitute redress
truth we find out is always much too cheap
there's nothing we should honour or should keep

how better

now every field lies ruinate or fallow
we ask ourselves just why we had to try
with not a cloud in the chastising sky
to hope for just one more chance to wallow
in the rain pond hidden in the hollow
unseen by any of the passers-by
still innocent of hand or skin or eye
that future like pond will be quite shallow
a more practical turn we'd never take
to count ourselves among the very lucky
who reach in early life their proper field
still from our memories we cannot shake
our thoughts about that place so wet and mucky
and in due time we've found a finer yield