the vision aspect

 

moments before the end that was foretold
we find ourselves observing that mistake
is not a thing that human beings make
for any reason not as good as gold
we've got the vision aspect truly cold
but there's a feeling that we cannot shake
that we are acting for another's sake
and have no reason to be sage or bold
the anger that arises knowing this
we do not give for reasons ever due
but out of either honesty or pride
what happens in the end is not more bliss
for what we say cannot be always true
though there is never anything to hide

desires and magics

 

we see the world as tragedy not farce
but doing that is seriously off-base
our knowledge not sufficient for the case
since there are grammars that we cannot parse
the choices here are always rather sparse
but we are not the victims of false grace
truths are well-written in each normal face
and every clown must fall upon his arse
our hearts keep rising from the common ruck
desires and magics claim an equal chance
but we are not so clever as we think
we see bright flowers yet we may not pluck
measure is added to the daily dance
and always we are too close to the brink
we listen but we cannot hear the clink
since all that falls will end up in the muck
and only fools and horses have to prance
an effort only not to speak nor drink
take a small time to stay calm and unstuck
the hero and the fool may both advance
in proper time the paths and ways will harden
so that we find our way back to the garden

the simplest truth

 

the road we travel's not the only road
but all the others are destroyed or barred
the message is for those who know the code
we pay for every effort for each yard
we take forward the truth is always hard
we see doors open and we see them close
the houses laid out in the neatest rows
from tragedy and pain there's no recourse
morning is just another passing hour
the future does not come on a white horse
there's no magician waiting in the tower

the weight we bear seems now the only load
some names and places have not yet been starred
there's not a prince who isn't a true toad
against the trickster no one stands on guard
the giant images are always marred
and sorrow's plainer than a largish nose
we tie the answers up in pretty bows
but do not have the best forms of discourse
for one who wants to stay within their bower
instead we're lost among the heath and gorse
there's no magician waiting in the tower

the pain we feel is just the greatest goad
each skin's been punctured by a flying shard
and no one's treasure is yet safely stowed
there is no visage that has not been scarred
by life or time there's never been regard
for calm or patience nor for plain repose
only for tawdry elements and shows
that are the signals and the pains of force
from which the wise and virtuous will cower
while the most evil never feel remorse
there's no magician waiting in the tower

prince you are not acquainted with the sourse
of all the pleasures from which we'll divorce
the happy few from the big worthless shower
few joys and satisfactions you'll endorse
for all that singers and poets get hoarse
there's no magician waiting in the tower

scholarship

 the basic task is just to tell a story
for narrative coherence makes the sale
and other options are too thin and pale

the working method seems cold and hoary
but stands up to the fire and to the gale
the basic task is just to tell a story

we leave to others both the fame and glory
knowing that any effort still might fail
we make the effort to proclaim the tale
the basic task is just to tell a story

passing no gates

 

telling the truth may always be bizarre
we have to do it with the proper flair
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

we do not dream the magical bazaar
where visions are conjured from empty air
telling the truth may always be bizarre

not all our music suits the large guitar
our eyes must be adjusted to the glare
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

no one has drowned beyond the harbour bar
who had not told us it was just unfair
telling the truth may always be bizarre

we see the mirage coming from afar
since in the emptiness we needs must stare
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

harsh ages and the weather cannot mar
the ones who truly learn to love and care
telling the truth may always be bizarre
not every waggon's hitched up to a star

no larger mercies

 the ones who see best do not use their eyes
to know the edges are both old and worn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise

nothing much changes under different skies
folk weak and tired remain cold and forlorn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes

the boldest cannot always claim the prize
not all who lose their shoes step on a thorn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise

it's not the power to rule and tyrannise
that leads to fury and to empty scorn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes

not every villain comes in sweet disguise
while even the most horrid still may mourn
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise

there are but few who say their last goodbyes
and fewer still who have learned how to warn
the ones who see best do not use their eyes
such matters aren't reserved just to the wise

undoing the folded lie

 

out in the darkness not a thing will speak
there's nothing that a seer might divine
without some fool assuming he was weak
or someone else without a fact opine
that awful silence must outweigh a whine
but truth is that the night will turn aflame
and not a thing will turn out quite the same
as the bright hours that mark the daily grind
to break the quiet is truly a shame
but all we know comes from the living mind

the world is never given to the meek
the kind and gentle heart we won't enshrine
instead we bow before the hard and sleek
and hardly anyone not one in nine
but kowtows to the ones who make the sign
with wildest lout turning out soft and tame
before the ones who claim to know the game
we laugh discreetly seeing them as blind
pursuers of the wispy touch of fame
but all we know comes from the living mind

behind their hands the innocents will peek
but mostly they'll behave like normal kine
and do no more than add unto the reek
though not as much as either sheep or swine
we may their thoughts into the mud consign
but not the ones who truly earn acclaim
they are the ones who will reform the frame
and know to loose as easily as bind
yet also how to shed unworthy blame
but all we know comes from the living mind

prince you would not the worthy ones defame
but you are not the only one of name
and you still cannot guess what we might find
if we could simply make the proper claim
and pass the ones who were too dumb or lame
but all we know comes from the living mind