Dec. 6th, 2008

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 here at the edge we find some time for sleep

our thoughts are running fast and reach a place

where creeks and rivers are shallow not deep

 

your heart must beat a rate we cannot keep

unless the fire of life can set the pace

here at the edge we find some time for sleep

 

those who deem what is proper simply cheap

refuse to grant our hopes a second's grace

where creeks and rivers are shallow not deep

 

the great mistake is counting us as sheep

saying so loudly to our very face

here at the edge we find some time for sleep

 

since there's no need to waken those who creep

from tree to tree seeking each tiny trace

where creeks and rivers are shallow not deep

 

now you will find out just who gets to reap

and what the crop how golden or how base

here at the edge we find some time for sleep

where creeks and rivers are shallow not deep
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 a lighter colour might relieve the day

of tiny pains and errors in my thought

these factors that add up to make distraught

the sense of being in a tragic play

waiting to learn just what the critics say

just to find out if it was all for naught

those words and actions that in time were wrought

to earn another evening's small pay

each role that's taken makes a smaller dash

upon the surface of this narrow lake

on which we lay an old and sacred name

our purpose is defined for cold hard cash

not undertaken for some human ache

since nothing gains us points in a great game

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 though aiming forward we are losing ground

hearts may be filled with hope but our hard fate

is to be weighed and valued pound by pound

as the remainders of a great estate

the counters' duty it is to collate

what goes to storage and what to the worm

what will be buried to build up the berm

and what parts of the fortune they might keep

those who are watching are the very firm

our place is taken and we have to sleep

 

so much of what is said is to confound

the ones whose task it is to count and rate

the complete measure within proper bound

they aren't allowed to lie nor to inflate

the tiny parcels into something great

but must agree the winner is the germ

that strikes the mighty hard as they might squirm

and into every corner seems to creep

it's certain victory we can't affirm

our place is taken and we have to sleep

 

we wanted to astonish and astound

win the reward of gold and silver plate

have banknotes piled up in a giant mound

cart off bright jewels in a well-made crate

these are not the conditions we instate

we find ourselves most rotten and infirm

unable now to generate a therm

nor over lowest bar ever to leap

our weakness any fool now could confirm

our place is taken and we have to sleep

 

prince you may rule us for a certain term

since none of us has power to reaffirm

just what we were nor what we had to keep

within our power nor underneath each derm

our place is taken and we have to sleep

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
 a single maple leaf is hanging on

in dumb defiance of the dying year

on this calm street the autumn's plain and drear

 

this change of seasons is time's greatest con

from bring and colourful to deadly sere

a single maple leaf is hanging on

 

age teaches us to reach a rapprochement

with all those forces in their fast career

that push us forward but one thing is clear

a single maple leaf is hanging on

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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