fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this journey is the one we do not make

across no turquoise seas to no green isle

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

you have been silent for your own soul's sake

knowing that truth is always out of style

this journey is the one we do not make

 

to find the place where no one's on the take

and justice won't delay a goodly while

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

except the one that's not so hard to fake

yet that we can't unlink from with a file

this journey is the one we do not make

 

from home to haven down the stream to lake

along with those the ancient would revile

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

nor any chime that we want you to shake

but reasons plenty to coax one last smile

this journey is the one we do not make

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this journey is the one we do not make

across no turquoise seas to no green isle

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

you have been silent for your own soul's sake

knowing that truth is always out of style

this journey is the one we do not make

 

to find the place where no one's on the take

and justice won't delay a goodly while

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

except the one that's not so hard to fake

yet that we can't unlink from with a file

this journey is the one we do not make

 

from home to haven down the stream to lake

along with those the ancient would revile

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

 

nor any chime that we want you to shake

but reasons plenty to coax one last smile

this journey is the one we do not make

do not be anxious there's no chain to break

cap askew

May. 28th, 2009 01:42 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

no matter that the cap's been set askew

there is no better story we could tell

about the way our honest vision grew

out of cold pain to fill the broken shell

healing the ill that you could not dispel

for all your efforts since there was no way

to break the walls or give the soul full play

we reach the bounds and have no better terms

than these old worn words no more than cliché

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

we watch as grey  has come to rule the blue

there's nothing here against which to rebel

just the old order just the normal due

course of the world which we cannot compel

to alter for our will  there is no spell

that folk of magic could use to allay

these ordinary fears which still betray

just what we are old time alone confirms

that it can do its will and have its say

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

after the rain we hope to see the new

growth that will rise the blossoms that will swell

once more in the bright garden to show true

that all things in the end shall come out well

so that on painful matters we won't dwell

and not look at the fossils under clay

the ancient dead in their solid array

since he who looks is also he who squirms

at thought of what lies just beyond decay

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

prince your approach is all the gift we pray

knowing how well we count on what you say

beneath your wisdom are the least of germs

unable to resist the force of day

you might as well give up and feed the worms

cap askew

May. 28th, 2009 01:42 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

no matter that the cap's been set askew

there is no better story we could tell

about the way our honest vision grew

out of cold pain to fill the broken shell

healing the ill that you could not dispel

for all your efforts since there was no way

to break the walls or give the soul full play

we reach the bounds and have no better terms

than these old worn words no more than cliché

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

we watch as grey  has come to rule the blue

there's nothing here against which to rebel

just the old order just the normal due

course of the world which we cannot compel

to alter for our will  there is no spell

that folk of magic could use to allay

these ordinary fears which still betray

just what we are old time alone confirms

that it can do its will and have its say

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

after the rain we hope to see the new

growth that will rise the blossoms that will swell

once more in the bright garden to show true

that all things in the end shall come out well

so that on painful matters we won't dwell

and not look at the fossils under clay

the ancient dead in their solid array

since he who looks is also he who squirms

at thought of what lies just beyond decay

you might as well give up and feed the worms

 

prince your approach is all the gift we pray

knowing how well we count on what you say

beneath your wisdom are the least of germs

unable to resist the force of day

you might as well give up and feed the worms

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

into dull silence fall the  poorer type

day upon day they give up on the fight

learning each time that no one gets it right

for any other tale is so much hype

the better-off might rage or else might gripe

as long as ruler stays just out of sight

since even fools can tell that this is blight

and not the sweet fruit going overripe

what each is given turns out not enough

to ease the suffering when it must come

each takes the burden almost as a bet

and thinks that he's the one who will be tough

who will say nothing without being dumb

managing to pass through without regret

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

into dull silence fall the  poorer type

day upon day they give up on the fight

learning each time that no one gets it right

for any other tale is so much hype

the better-off might rage or else might gripe

as long as ruler stays just out of sight

since even fools can tell that this is blight

and not the sweet fruit going overripe

what each is given turns out not enough

to ease the suffering when it must come

each takes the burden almost as a bet

and thinks that he's the one who will be tough

who will say nothing without being dumb

managing to pass through without regret

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this is the place where pigeons play their games

untroubled by the large ungainly folk

who never have been seen to get the joke

 

birds shit on heroes and on noble dames

that's not a fact that we want to evoke

this is the place where pigeons play their games

 

here where our leaders make their sordid claims

upon our hearts and liars go for broke

old beggars note again the stinking smoke

this is the place where pigeons play their games

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this is the place where pigeons play their games

untroubled by the large ungainly folk

who never have been seen to get the joke

 

birds shit on heroes and on noble dames

that's not a fact that we want to evoke

this is the place where pigeons play their games

 

here where our leaders make their sordid claims

upon our hearts and liars go for broke

old beggars note again the stinking smoke

this is the place where pigeons play their games

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

John Maxwell

History is littered with treachery. In the noisome Slough of Dishonour are mired thousands of reputations, most of those who betrayed their own countries, like Pierre Laval, Vidkun Quisling, Jonas Savimbi and Augusto Pinochet. The deepest pits though, the most purulent sinks, are reserved for those who have ranged abroad to betray and sabotage strangers, to  inflict unnecessary suffering on people who have never given them cause for complaint. People like Leopold of Belgium, Neville Chamberlain, Hitler, Ariel Sharon and George W Bush spring readily to mind.

On Monday, former President Clinton announced that he would accept an invitation from the UN Secretary General, Ban Ki Moon, of South Korea, to become the SG's personal envoy in Haiti. It is an appointment that will end in disaster.

I mention Ban Ki Moon's nationality because I believe that the disaster that already exists Haiti is the result of a culture clash which is entirely incomprehensible to most people outside the Western hemisphere and not easily understood by most people outside the international crime scene that has been created in Haiti.

Ground Zero for Modern Civilisation

 

It is my contention that the modern world was born in Haiti.

 When you understand that the modern rotary  printing press is a direct descendant of mills made to grind sugar you may begin to get the drift of my argument. Since I am not a historian my arguments will not be subtle and nuanced. I am simply presenting a few crude facts which, however you interpret them, will I believe lead inexorably to the conclusion that modern ideas of liberty and freedom, modern capitalism and globalisation of production and exchange, would have spent much longer in gestation had it not been for the black slaves of Haiti who abolished slavery and  the slave trade. In the process they defeated the armies of the leading world powers of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,, destroyed French empire in the western hemisphere, doubled the size and power of the United States and incidentally promoted the European sugar beet industry and revolutionised European farming.

The problem with all this, as I have repeatedly pointed out, is that had the Haitians been ethnically European their achievements would now suffuse the world narrative; conversely, had Spartacus been black, he would long ago have faded into the mists of barbarian myth.

The Haitians and all the other blacks of the Western hemisphere were uprooted from their native grounds, their civilisations laid waste, and they themselves transported to unknown lands in which they were forced to create unexampled riches and luxury for their rapists and despoilers.

For reasons lost to history, the blacks in Haiti and Jamaica were, for most of their captivity, the most unwilling subjects and continued to fight for their freedom for more than three centuries.

The Enlightenment and its prophets and philosophers popularised the ideas of freedom and liberty, the rights of man. Nowhere was freedom taken more seriously than by the Haitians, who, described as Frenchmen, fought valiantly for American freedom in that nation's  Revolutionary War of Independence. When Revolution convulsed France in turn, the Haitians threw their support to those they thought were fighting for freedom. When that proved a false trail, the Haitians  continued to fight, defeating the French, British and Spanish armies sent to re-enslave them.

Although the Americans and the French said they believed in freedom, they formed an unholy combination to restrict Haiti's liberty. THe fact of Haitian freedom frightened the Americans and other world powers. Haiti promised freedom to any captive who set foot on her soil and armed, provisioned and supplied trained soldiers to Simon Bolivar for the liberation of South America.  Nearly 200 years before the United Nations (and France and the USA),  Haiti proclaimed Universal Human Rights, threatening the slave societies in America and the Caribbean

Haiti's freedom was compromised by French and American financial blackmail, and as I've said before, what the Atlantic powers could not achieve by force of arms they achieved by compound interest. Haiti was the first heavily indebted poor country, and the United States, Canada, France and the multilateral financial organisations, the World Bank, the Inter-American Development Bank  and the IMF have worked hard to keep her in that bondage.

Eventually, 93 years ago, the Americans invaded Haiti, destroyed the constitution, the government and their social system. American Jim Crow segregation and injustice destroyed the Haitian middle-class, enhanced and exacerbated class distinctions and antagonisms and left Haiti a ravaged, dysfunctional mess, ruled by a corrupt American trained military in the interest of a small corrupt gang of mainly expatriate or white capitalists, ready to support any and every murderous dictator who protected their interests.

Finally, twenty years ago, the Haitians rose up and overthrew the Duvaliers and the apprentice dictators who followed. In their first free election the Haitians elected a little, black parish priest, the man whose words and spirit had embodied their struggle. But the real rulers of Haiti, the corrupt, bloodthirsty capitalists with their American passports and their bulletproof SUV's, had no intention of letting Haitians exercise the universal human rights their leaders had proclaimed two centuries before.

When Jean Bertrand Aristide was deposed after a few months in office it was with the help of the CIA, USAID, and other American entities. Then ensued one of the most disgraceful episodes in the long unsavoury history of diplomacy. Bill Clinton – elected President promising to treat the Haitian refugees as human beings – elected instead to observe the same barbarous policies as George Bush I, and when the refugees became a flood Clinton's answer was more illegality. He parked two massive floating slave barracoons in Kingston Harbour where refugees picked up in Jamaican waters were, with the craven connivance of the Patterson government – denied asylum, captured and  processed and 22% of them selected for the Guantanamo Bay concentration camp while the rest were returned to their murderers in Haiti.

Eventually, largely due to pressure from black pressure groups in the US and crucially, a fast to the death begun by Randall Robinson, Clinton agreed to restore Aristide while General Colin Powell talked grandly of the soldier's honour he shared with Haiti's then murderer in chief, a scamp called Raoul Cedras.

President Clinton made several pledges to Aristide and to Haiti, but history does not seem to record that any were kept.

Had even a few been kept,  Haiti may have been able to guarantee public security and to  instal some desperately needed infrastructure. Instead Haitians are still scooping water to drink from potholes in the street and stave off hunger with 'fritters' made from earth and cooking fat.

The Haitian Army, the most corrupt and evil public institution in the western hemisphere was abolished by Aristide, to the displeasure of the North American powers. Now that the Americans have deposed Aristide for the  second time, security is in the hands of a motley mercenary army, a UN peacekeeping force.

Security in Haiti is so good that three years ago, the then head of this force, a Brazilian general was found shot to death after a friendly chat with Haitian elites.

The rapes, massacres, disappearances and kidnappings continue unabated and the only popular political force, the Fanmi Lavalas, has been effectively neutered.

President Clinton "will aim to attract private and government investment and aid for the poor Caribbean island nation, according to Clinton's office and a senior U.N. official.

"A U.N. official said that Clinton would act as a "cheerleader" for the economically distressed country, cajoling government and business leaders into pouring fresh money into a place that is largely dependent on foreign assistance. "

It all sounds so nice and cosy, a poor, black 'hapless' nation under the tutelage of the rich and civilised of the earth.

I am prepared to bet that neither Haitian democracy nor Bill Clinton's reputation will survive this appointment. Democracy is impossible without popular participation and decision making.

 In Haiti democracy  is impossible without Lavalas and Aristide

If Haiti itself is to survive, the UN General Assembly needs to seize this baton from the spectacularly unqualified and ignorant Security Council and its very nice and affable Secretary General, even less attuned to Haitian reality than the last SG, Kofi Annan and his accomplices, Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, P.J. Patterson and Patrick Manning.

Dual citizenship and Parliament

 

The laws of Jamaica are apparently being rewritten behind our backs. As I understand the Representation of the People Act, if only one person is nominated on Nomination Day, that person is automatically elected to parliament.

 

There is no need for a bye-election, and it would seem to me that it is illegal to have a bye-election when there is a lawfully nominated and elected MP. No court can declare a seat vacant except under certain specific circumstances.

 

The North East St Catherine seat cannot legally be vacant. A grant of poll resulted in one valid nomination. The seat was therefore filled by Phyllis Mitchell.

 

Can anyone explain when the law was changed?

 

 

Copyright ©2009 John Maxwell

 

jankunnu@gmail.com

 

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

John Maxwell

History is littered with treachery. In the noisome Slough of Dishonour are mired thousands of reputations, most of those who betrayed their own countries, like Pierre Laval, Vidkun Quisling, Jonas Savimbi and Augusto Pinochet. The deepest pits though, the most purulent sinks, are reserved for those who have ranged abroad to betray and sabotage strangers, to  inflict unnecessary suffering on people who have never given them cause for complaint. People like Leopold of Belgium, Neville Chamberlain, Hitler, Ariel Sharon and George W Bush spring readily to mind.

On Monday, former President Clinton announced that he would accept an invitation from the UN Secretary General, Ban Ki Moon, of South Korea, to become the SG's personal envoy in Haiti. It is an appointment that will end in disaster.

I mention Ban Ki Moon's nationality because I believe that the disaster that already exists Haiti is the result of a culture clash which is entirely incomprehensible to most people outside the Western hemisphere and not easily understood by most people outside the international crime scene that has been created in Haiti.

Ground Zero for Modern Civilisation

 

It is my contention that the modern world was born in Haiti.

 When you understand that the modern rotary  printing press is a direct descendant of mills made to grind sugar you may begin to get the drift of my argument. Since I am not a historian my arguments will not be subtle and nuanced. I am simply presenting a few crude facts which, however you interpret them, will I believe lead inexorably to the conclusion that modern ideas of liberty and freedom, modern capitalism and globalisation of production and exchange, would have spent much longer in gestation had it not been for the black slaves of Haiti who abolished slavery and  the slave trade. In the process they defeated the armies of the leading world powers of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,, destroyed French empire in the western hemisphere, doubled the size and power of the United States and incidentally promoted the European sugar beet industry and revolutionised European farming.

The problem with all this, as I have repeatedly pointed out, is that had the Haitians been ethnically European their achievements would now suffuse the world narrative; conversely, had Spartacus been black, he would long ago have faded into the mists of barbarian myth.

The Haitians and all the other blacks of the Western hemisphere were uprooted from their native grounds, their civilisations laid waste, and they themselves transported to unknown lands in which they were forced to create unexampled riches and luxury for their rapists and despoilers.

For reasons lost to history, the blacks in Haiti and Jamaica were, for most of their captivity, the most unwilling subjects and continued to fight for their freedom for more than three centuries.

The Enlightenment and its prophets and philosophers popularised the ideas of freedom and liberty, the rights of man. Nowhere was freedom taken more seriously than by the Haitians, who, described as Frenchmen, fought valiantly for American freedom in that nation's  Revolutionary War of Independence. When Revolution convulsed France in turn, the Haitians threw their support to those they thought were fighting for freedom. When that proved a false trail, the Haitians  continued to fight, defeating the French, British and Spanish armies sent to re-enslave them.

Although the Americans and the French said they believed in freedom, they formed an unholy combination to restrict Haiti's liberty. THe fact of Haitian freedom frightened the Americans and other world powers. Haiti promised freedom to any captive who set foot on her soil and armed, provisioned and supplied trained soldiers to Simon Bolivar for the liberation of South America.  Nearly 200 years before the United Nations (and France and the USA),  Haiti proclaimed Universal Human Rights, threatening the slave societies in America and the Caribbean

Haiti's freedom was compromised by French and American financial blackmail, and as I've said before, what the Atlantic powers could not achieve by force of arms they achieved by compound interest. Haiti was the first heavily indebted poor country, and the United States, Canada, France and the multilateral financial organisations, the World Bank, the Inter-American Development Bank  and the IMF have worked hard to keep her in that bondage.

Eventually, 93 years ago, the Americans invaded Haiti, destroyed the constitution, the government and their social system. American Jim Crow segregation and injustice destroyed the Haitian middle-class, enhanced and exacerbated class distinctions and antagonisms and left Haiti a ravaged, dysfunctional mess, ruled by a corrupt American trained military in the interest of a small corrupt gang of mainly expatriate or white capitalists, ready to support any and every murderous dictator who protected their interests.

Finally, twenty years ago, the Haitians rose up and overthrew the Duvaliers and the apprentice dictators who followed. In their first free election the Haitians elected a little, black parish priest, the man whose words and spirit had embodied their struggle. But the real rulers of Haiti, the corrupt, bloodthirsty capitalists with their American passports and their bulletproof SUV's, had no intention of letting Haitians exercise the universal human rights their leaders had proclaimed two centuries before.

When Jean Bertrand Aristide was deposed after a few months in office it was with the help of the CIA, USAID, and other American entities. Then ensued one of the most disgraceful episodes in the long unsavoury history of diplomacy. Bill Clinton – elected President promising to treat the Haitian refugees as human beings – elected instead to observe the same barbarous policies as George Bush I, and when the refugees became a flood Clinton's answer was more illegality. He parked two massive floating slave barracoons in Kingston Harbour where refugees picked up in Jamaican waters were, with the craven connivance of the Patterson government – denied asylum, captured and  processed and 22% of them selected for the Guantanamo Bay concentration camp while the rest were returned to their murderers in Haiti.

Eventually, largely due to pressure from black pressure groups in the US and crucially, a fast to the death begun by Randall Robinson, Clinton agreed to restore Aristide while General Colin Powell talked grandly of the soldier's honour he shared with Haiti's then murderer in chief, a scamp called Raoul Cedras.

President Clinton made several pledges to Aristide and to Haiti, but history does not seem to record that any were kept.

Had even a few been kept,  Haiti may have been able to guarantee public security and to  instal some desperately needed infrastructure. Instead Haitians are still scooping water to drink from potholes in the street and stave off hunger with 'fritters' made from earth and cooking fat.

The Haitian Army, the most corrupt and evil public institution in the western hemisphere was abolished by Aristide, to the displeasure of the North American powers. Now that the Americans have deposed Aristide for the  second time, security is in the hands of a motley mercenary army, a UN peacekeeping force.

Security in Haiti is so good that three years ago, the then head of this force, a Brazilian general was found shot to death after a friendly chat with Haitian elites.

The rapes, massacres, disappearances and kidnappings continue unabated and the only popular political force, the Fanmi Lavalas, has been effectively neutered.

President Clinton "will aim to attract private and government investment and aid for the poor Caribbean island nation, according to Clinton's office and a senior U.N. official.

"A U.N. official said that Clinton would act as a "cheerleader" for the economically distressed country, cajoling government and business leaders into pouring fresh money into a place that is largely dependent on foreign assistance. "

It all sounds so nice and cosy, a poor, black 'hapless' nation under the tutelage of the rich and civilised of the earth.

I am prepared to bet that neither Haitian democracy nor Bill Clinton's reputation will survive this appointment. Democracy is impossible without popular participation and decision making.

 In Haiti democracy  is impossible without Lavalas and Aristide

If Haiti itself is to survive, the UN General Assembly needs to seize this baton from the spectacularly unqualified and ignorant Security Council and its very nice and affable Secretary General, even less attuned to Haitian reality than the last SG, Kofi Annan and his accomplices, Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, P.J. Patterson and Patrick Manning.

Dual citizenship and Parliament

 

The laws of Jamaica are apparently being rewritten behind our backs. As I understand the Representation of the People Act, if only one person is nominated on Nomination Day, that person is automatically elected to parliament.

 

There is no need for a bye-election, and it would seem to me that it is illegal to have a bye-election when there is a lawfully nominated and elected MP. No court can declare a seat vacant except under certain specific circumstances.

 

The North East St Catherine seat cannot legally be vacant. A grant of poll resulted in one valid nomination. The seat was therefore filled by Phyllis Mitchell.

 

Can anyone explain when the law was changed?

 

 

Copyright ©2009 John Maxwell

 

jankunnu@gmail.com

 

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

when we forget the giants they don't die

but just diminish into lesser folk

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

there is a story that might make you cry

about the times that we were under yoke

when we forget the giants they don't die

 

their footprints don't grow smaller in the eye

and we remember that we used to joke

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

before we give you reasons to comply

with the new rules that make you want to croak

when we forget the giants they don't die

 

the rivers where they drank have not gone dry

and yet we cannot one old name invoke

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

where truth and reason give us leave to fly

in that one place where justice is not smoke

when we forget the giants they don't die

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

when we forget the giants they don't die

but just diminish into lesser folk

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

there is a story that might make you cry

about the times that we were under yoke

when we forget the giants they don't die

 

their footprints don't grow smaller in the eye

and we remember that we used to joke

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

before we give you reasons to comply

with the new rules that make you want to croak

when we forget the giants they don't die

 

the rivers where they drank have not gone dry

and yet we cannot one old name invoke

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

 

where truth and reason give us leave to fly

in that one place where justice is not smoke

when we forget the giants they don't die

take ship and leave for homes just past the sky

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

out of the light some errant hope may creep

to stay harsh fears and keep in stern control

those bitter terrors which reign over sleep

since we are many miles short of our goal

nor can a single one afford the toll

for all our efforts we have come up short

one of our heads might yet adorn a pole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

our sense of history does not go deep

nor yet much further than the old school roll

for we want all our stories on the cheap

and honour is not something we extol

we want the stallion but not the foal

and find it is so easy to distort

the symbols that are written on the scroll

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

in coming dark we will react like sheep

whose bleating the kind butcher must console

before he throws each body on the heap

or drinks another beer from his large bowl

the watcher might just find the whole thing droll

or take the scheduled slaughter for good sport

did he not see the shepherd on patrol

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

prince you believe your subject has no soul

and can say nothing here of great import

but without him you cannot soon be whole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

out of the light some errant hope may creep

to stay harsh fears and keep in stern control

those bitter terrors which reign over sleep

since we are many miles short of our goal

nor can a single one afford the toll

for all our efforts we have come up short

one of our heads might yet adorn a pole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

our sense of history does not go deep

nor yet much further than the old school roll

for we want all our stories on the cheap

and honour is not something we extol

we want the stallion but not the foal

and find it is so easy to distort

the symbols that are written on the scroll

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

in coming dark we will react like sheep

whose bleating the kind butcher must console

before he throws each body on the heap

or drinks another beer from his large bowl

the watcher might just find the whole thing droll

or take the scheduled slaughter for good sport

did he not see the shepherd on patrol

there is no justice in our rulers' court

 

prince you believe your subject has no soul

and can say nothing here of great import

but without him you cannot soon be whole

there is no justice in our rulers' court

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we scour the marrow of each holy text

to find the hidden meaning but there's none

we want so much to bring into the sun

 

the matters that so many folk perplexed

to hear the shouts of thank you and well-done

we scour the marrow of each holy text

 

expecting that we'll know what will come next

the secrets that the wisest shall have won

beyond the place there normal law can run

we scour the marrow of each holy text

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we scour the marrow of each holy text

to find the hidden meaning but there's none

we want so much to bring into the sun

 

the matters that so many folk perplexed

to hear the shouts of thank you and well-done

we scour the marrow of each holy text

 

expecting that we'll know what will come next

the secrets that the wisest shall have won

beyond the place there normal law can run

we scour the marrow of each holy text

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

 

this is the verb that we declare must stand

for place and season taken out of time

by our decision rendered full sublime

by simplest action of creative hand

uttered each morning by serene command

the sound itself is richer than each chime

of golden bells tuned to a perfect prime

while the symbolic meaning is so grand

all that we say can be reduced to this

concision of significance and sound

where every symbol strains into the light

yet not a thing is here that we could miss

even if we retreat to harder ground

since we have turned our backs upon the night

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

 

this is the verb that we declare must stand

for place and season taken out of time

by our decision rendered full sublime

by simplest action of creative hand

uttered each morning by serene command

the sound itself is richer than each chime

of golden bells tuned to a perfect prime

while the symbolic meaning is so grand

all that we say can be reduced to this

concision of significance and sound

where every symbol strains into the light

yet not a thing is here that we could miss

even if we retreat to harder ground

since we have turned our backs upon the night

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

too hard to till and far too small to build

upon by us the poor and the unskilled

 

here in the realm of liar and of faker

where the last honest impulse has been stilled

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

 

left over at creation by the maker

so there is nothing that we have to gild

no dark condition we've left unfulfilled

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

too hard to till and far too small to build

upon by us the poor and the unskilled

 

here in the realm of liar and of faker

where the last honest impulse has been stilled

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

 

left over at creation by the maker

so there is nothing that we have to gild

no dark condition we've left unfulfilled

this is a dry and stony quarter-acre

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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