Mango Walk

 our voices echo silence is the crime

we need the warm assurance of sweet sound

for all our urgency fears empty time

 

so much is caught between the fall and climb

but haste is needed to bring things around

our voices echo silence is the crime

 

for which we will be punished now the chime

of teachers' bell is something most profound

for all our urgency fears empty time

 

which must be filled with order the sublime

decree of trust in which we seek for ground

our voices echo silence is the crime

 

and we're so guilty yet we have to prime

the rule of virtues so they might abound

for all our urgency fears empty time

 

while hope for magic is expressed in rhyme

which we desire to ring and to resound

our voices echo silence is the crime

for all our urgency fears empty time

 we can't escape the honest final fact

of what we are but knowledge of the when

evades our thought for women and for men

the whole affair requires a lot of tact

while ancient legions trooper and cataphract

do battle to control both hill and fen

while we are in the grip of thought again

having no choice but fearing still to act

all voyages must come at last to port

or end at the sea-bottom ever lost

those are the options and we cannot choose

the fate that we are given time is short

as we find out we have to pay the cost

of all delaying and we always lose

 we do not get the choice to grow or fade

since each of us is placed just where we ought

to find the truth of all the things we're taught

which is much more that what life must abrade

with its rough edges we are ever frayed

broken and blinded knowing that we fought

both hard and well but losing were caught

in the old trap and sent back to the shade

so much to tell about where we were cast

the clawing upwards that's another fight

though none will listen to the loser's tale

nor should they we recall the faded past

while today's children look towards the light

and have no patience with the ones who fail

 missing the answer means that when the true

vision of justice fills this hungry mind

it is not understood i have turned blind

to what is obvious not known the due

reception of the gifts of midday blue

warm and attractive nothing left behind

to be cleaned up by the unfailing kind

while i accept the price for what is due

time makes no changes on its very own

except in the bland lies that old folk tell

to calm the foolish on their downward run

instead they  seek to gnaw upon cold stone

while listening for the distant warning bell

and for the sound of the last urgent gun

 being denizen of no place ready set

within the bounds of the sublunar realm

is nowise daunting the facts overwhelm

only the weaker minds instead each debt

incurred in course of duty or regret

is paid in full by shade of oak or elm

in memory of the old man with cracked helm

by one who can't resist that final bet

each night is sacrificed so that my rest

becomes a loss that's added to the pile

just one more line that goes into the jest

another little twist those are in style

the truth is always harder than the lie

that's what they tell us then they say goodbye

 no bounds to honour yet the unjust lie

faster than lightning reaches for each throat

enforcing silence there's a bitter note

we can detect even when on the fly

a universe of difference going by

while on one side are those eager to gloat

over the losers in the daily vote

our only option here seems rather dry

what has been paid does not in full restore

the world we had but what we tell each child

will matter in the end since their delight

in the large world will become so much more

absorb the truth and gather in the wild

on that fine day when their strong hearts take flight

 fallen from glory the world now turns drab

so easily a single dullish cloud

before the sun and all brightness is cowed

without resistance we can never grab

the moment back it's cast upon the slab

and we are from all justice disendowed

who were not long ago happy and proud

but now have come to the realm of the crab

the world is many things other than fair

since what we have we always have to earn

on terms that change each day and are not right

when most we want the best of things to dare

but never mind all that is good must burn

and from the fire we gain a better light

 there's no sense in the judgment that we make

concerning all the tricks of the old trade

nor in belief that turns out to be fake

in all those things that are fated to fade

the world is as it is and what must come

is less not more than what we'd thought the sum

of what we earn in simple steady pay

but given to us with little delay

we're far too eager and give in to haste

the infant mind attains its highest sway

so what is human ends up most abased

 

our duty never got an honest shake

but found its honour hidden in the shade

while we were learning good things by mistake

and wondering why none came by to aid

for our relief we did not earn a crumb

while happy others made off with the plum

meanwhile the foolish urged us just to pray

as if that answer were more than cliché

while our best efforts had to be replaced

and matters finished in another way

so what is human ends up most abased

 

the truth is clear we could not get a break

from anybody here the whole charade

was guaranteed  to maximise their take

and in the process our spirits abrade

dumping us all down in the meanest slum

because we were so obviously dumb

we were served up upon a silver tray

trapped and devoured to our immense dismay

our skills dismissed and all of us disgraced

moulded and shaped just like the softest clay

so what is human ends up most abased

 

prince you observe as we suffer this day

ordering whips our tender backs to flay

you think this moment easily erased

yours is the power and the word today

so what is human ends up most abased

 there are so many failings but the one

that most we fear will come to us so fast

it will not truly matter we will cast

away anger and hope then face the sun

one final time knowing the course is done

all dues are paid and all pain in the past

where it belongs nothing left but one blast

of rage or vision to pay for the run

so is it set in the soft human mud

that we call history shaped by the tide

of shallow seas that will all marks erase

and take away as well the taint of blood

letting forgetfulness replace all pride

and a calm vista do instead of praise

 what's real and true of all the stuff we learn

throughout each life is given extra sheen

by honest labour it will never burn

 

the deeper vision that permits a turn

towards an understanding of the seen

what's real and true of all the stuff we learn

 

both in and out of school is the concern

for honest dealing which becomes so keen

by honest labour it will never burn

 

our hands but lead us rather to discern

the better way by which to intervene

what's real and true of all the stuff we learn

 

reminds us of the need for what we earn

not just for us but those in the machine

by honest labour it will never burn

 

the ones who cry and those who only yearn

for what is not and what has never been

what's real and true of all the stuff we learn

by honest labour it will never burn