dark prophecy

 this is the tale of one who dared not speak
but made his measure one that all must hear
the word made harder than it should appear
vision exposed to strong as well as weak
there are creations that the small may wreak
upon a world become thin and austere
such matters as no god could engineer
beyond the space of matter and mystique
attend you noble ones as you dance by
upon your futile duties to the throne
no palace lasts when all the plebs are dead
no kingdom can stand long built on a lie
that much even the dullest kings have known
and this is what the master spies must dread

past summers' heat

 

no more the echo of past summers' heat
but hope that in the coming times of strain
good fortune and good sense at last will meet

cast down the mighty judge from his high seat
and you will set another up again
no more the echo of past summers' heat

down river soon the rowers have to beat
with hopes to reach the port before the rain
good fortune and good sense at last will meet

you make the move to plead and to entreat
protection from the bringers of great pain
no more the echo of past summers' heat

a wise commander knows when to retreat
and when to summon his troops to campaign
good fortune and good sense at last will meet

we listen to the politicians bleat
and know that in the end we won't abstain
no more the echo of past summers' heat
good fortune and good sense at last will meet

the law of colours

 

the law of colours hold us firm in place
none of us care to think outside the bar
we're trapped by the old rules of the race

we fear to step into the open space
and would not dream of quite another star
the law of colours holds us firm in place

there is a fear that hides behind each face
and so we would not leave the door ajar
we're trapped by the old rules of the race

to speak of freedom is called a disgrace
we aren't allowed to trade in the bazaar
the law of colours holds us firm in place

all memories of the garden we erase
and leave behind us nothing but a scar
we're trapped by the old rules of the race

yet we could all our happiness embrace
and make once more what you would have us mar
the law of colours holds us firm in place
we're trapped by the old rules of the race

i meant to say

 i meant to say some words but i forgot
to tell you just what all those thoughts were for
to make you know just how much i adore

you and how much you mean but i could not
find the right moment so i seemed a boor
i meant to say some words but i forgot

i fear that i'd be taken for a sot
another one who should be shown the door
for every golden thought i'd need a score
i meant to say some words but i forgot

admonition

 

do not expect the magic to endure
for others have seen what you hope to see
the leaves that budded on the winter tree
have hoped for what you wanted to ensure
the future has the same sort of allure
as it had long before you came to be
there has been no change to the actual key
nor to the things that good folk must secure
onto the rivers many lines are cast
by those who seek to bring ashore a a haul
that none before had counted as being real
the future is no mirror of the past
and what is seen within the crystal ball
is not the final nor the golden seal

late january noon

 silent these bright woods
in the hard wintry noon light
which lies about warmth

we look at blue sky
and think of bright birds that skim
over highest trees

in hottest august
winter will seem mystery
but now it is truth

tiny rocky ball

 

your eye can see only up to the wall
what lies beyond is in the heart of dream
too swiftly moves the tiny rocky ball

a fool believes the world is far too small
for what you wants and for your self-esteem
your eyes can see only up to the wall

the child you reared has gone beyond your call
what you have told you cannot now redeem
too swiftly moves the tiny rocky ball

you did not think you'd ever have to stall
but now you fear the coming angry gleam
your eye can see only up to the wall

what was your pride has turned into your fall
the leap you surmise was just so extreme
too swiftly moves the tiny rocky ball

what was once nothing now has become all
the rivulet become the larger stream
your eye can see only up to the wall
too swiftly moves the tiny rocky ball

lost messenger

you had a choice and made the proper turn
but then the road divided and you fell
into a pit as deep and hot as hell
and from that time you have not ceased to burn
from then to now you have not failed to learn
the price of all the stories you would tell
the cost of all the goods that people sell
there are some things it is not good to earn
a distant horn reminds us of the time
it takes to journey up from deepest vale
into the light of not-so-common day
so many fail to finish the long climb
and they are beings of the self-same clay
but you alone return to give the tale