after the baroque

 the sound of lautenwerk and harpsichord
an older music than the ones we learn
and we find what you always have adored

a better way of reaching good accord
would leave the pilgrim with no wrath to burn
the sound of lautenwerk and harpsichord

with force of gun and symbolism of sword
we give you chance to make a better turn
and we find what you always have adored

so much it takes to bring down the last lord
then to restore the ones we would not spurn
the sound of lautenwerk and harpsichord

channel the world in ways we can afford
yet we will choose no better way to yearn
and we find what you always have adored

this is the magic you have not ignored
a pattern that your people have to earn
the sound of lautenwerk and harpsichord
and we find what you always have adored

a kind of subversion

 there is a point when we must stretch our reach
not because fruit are hanging from the tree
but simply for the sake of what we see
within our hearts for what we have to teach
this is the point of saying without much speech
just what we mean about what we must be
the words themselves enact our being free
and take us in one moment past the breach
the silence stretches till we cannot bear
the weight of all the motions we still feel
and step by step this breath turns into time
so many seconds counted out of fear
the human body seems made out of steel
and every hour turns into the prime
we name ourselves the victims of this crime
but knowing nothing have no sense of care
and are not anxious yet to make the deal
while on the sidelines all the crowd must stare
their voices roaring out in harsh appeal
demanding that the normal be sublime
this is the end of what we would not speak
the strong must bow at last to us the weak

no good recollection

 

all of the motion adds up to a fall
we aren't the ones we were so long ago
and now we find we're being forced to stall

it seems the manly thing now is to bawl
that what was fast has turned so fucking slow
all of the motion adds up to a fall

the lion that would pounce first learns to crawl
yet leaves a little over for the crow
and now we find we're being forced to stall

no one would say that we had not the gall
to claim a place where fools alone would go
all of the motion adds up to a fall

before the action we beheld the wall
and found that there was something hard to know
and now we find we're being forced to stall

that is the story we must tell to all
who come to see just how this thing is so
all of the motion adds up to a fall
and now we find we're being forced to stall

sacred victory

 we live in echoes of the empty lost
a maze of hatreds never wholly dead
within a forest overgrown with dread

we find the horror has its heavy cost
from each cold mind all decency has sped
we live in echoes of the empty lost

what was once worthy is from us now tossed
no one would keep a clear thought in his head
when dark and fear could take its place instead
we live in echoes of the empty lost

a single buzzard

we don't regard the message of the bird
but anger drives us into plain desire
and we are under the commanding word

so much of what we learn becomes absurd
you watch what happens underneath the wire
we don't regard the message of the bird

what is not done was properly deferred
but now we cannot help detain the fire
and we are under the commanding word

so much in time we wish had not occurred
it is not something that we could require
we don't regard the message of the bird

the signal is not what we had inferred
but nothing matters when the news is dire
and we are under the commanding word

you find too soon just what we all had heard
that no one to those heights ought to aspire
we don't regard the message of the bird
and we are under the commanding word
 

roundel of the divine farmer

we bend our necks to the almighty king
this is the proper posture of the prole
we must assume our old historic role

the sovereign people are out of the ring
we praise the givers of a measly dole
we bend our necks to the almighty king

in every temple we have learned to sing
in voices that ring out from empty soul
words that embrace the forces of control
we bend our necks to the almighty king

sunset at stanmore

 

the briefest moment now of golden light
sun falling with great haste into the sea
without preamble we learn it is night

the tropic day is often falsely bright
and gives us such a sense of being free
the briefest moment now of golden light

the stars can't guide us on a path that's right
we aren't provided with a way to see
the briefest moment now of golden light

no doubt that we are in a sudden plight
and this is not a proper place to be
without preamble we learn it is night

there is no reason here for fuss or fight
but each is filled with a deep urge to flee
the briefest moment now of golden light

still none of us has cause to be contrite
there's nothing in the dark to disagree
the briefest moment now of golden light
without preamble we learn it is night