How do I act, to be one with my brothers?
Do I smile, do I nod, do I avoid indiscretion?
Do I flatter and indulge their tastes and their manner?
Do I challenge their minds with thoughts and with wit?
Do I stir the coals of earthly desires?
Do I lead, do I follow, do I stand?
What is this I seek by these actions?
What purpose this mask of acceptance?
Do I smile, do I nod, do I avoid indiscretion?
Do I flatter and indulge their tastes and their manner?
Do I challenge their minds with thoughts and with wit?
Do I stir the coals of earthly desires?
Do I lead, do I follow, do I stand?
What is this I seek by these actions?
What purpose this mask of acceptance?
Rebirth
The man with the badge said he knew something,
As did the man with the fear.
Each had their tale to tell,
Both had their cage.
The chrysalid did not,
It turned in its cocoon,
And waited.
The man on the hill had something to say,
As did the man on the sea,
Each had their tale to tell,
Both had their cage.
The World did not,
It turned in its cocoon,
And waited.
For four billion years it waited,
Though never counting the time.
And when it seemed it was dead,
The new life streamed forth –
To love,
To honour,
And to obey.
The man with the badge said he knew something,
As did the man with the fear.
Each had their tale to tell,
Both had their cage.
The chrysalid did not,
It turned in its cocoon,
And waited.
The man on the hill had something to say,
As did the man on the sea,
Each had their tale to tell,
Both had their cage.
The World did not,
It turned in its cocoon,
And waited.
For four billion years it waited,
Though never counting the time.
And when it seemed it was dead,
The new life streamed forth –
To love,
To honour,
And to obey.
Security
It's the dream of man in the mirror,
A vision of selfish glory,
Pursued by the fragile ego,
His 'strength' to stand alone –
Man the island,
Circled by pure, barren sands,
Subject to his passions,
Cut off from the world.
It lives in the confessional,
Fearful of death;
It's the weight and force of righteousness,
Calculating years to come,
Living for tomorrow,
Without thought for today -
There, sitting behind the wheel,
While its world falls apart.
It's flat,
The flatness, that dehydrates;
No blood, it withers the psyche,
And gropes in the void of alternatives lost.
It picks at the bones of dead men,
And curses the state of its birth;
A token to buy immortality,
While today is bound down and enslaved.
It's the dream of man in the mirror,
A vision of selfish glory,
Pursued by the fragile ego,
His 'strength' to stand alone –
Man the island,
Circled by pure, barren sands,
Subject to his passions,
Cut off from the world.
It lives in the confessional,
Fearful of death;
It's the weight and force of righteousness,
Calculating years to come,
Living for tomorrow,
Without thought for today -
There, sitting behind the wheel,
While its world falls apart.
It's flat,
The flatness, that dehydrates;
No blood, it withers the psyche,
And gropes in the void of alternatives lost.
It picks at the bones of dead men,
And curses the state of its birth;
A token to buy immortality,
While today is bound down and enslaved.
Me?
How much is you?
How much do you know?
A mass of parts in confusion,
Beating their own little paths,
Unaware of illusion.
How much is you?
How much do you know?
A mass of parts in confusion,
Beating their own little paths,
Unaware of illusion.
Progress?
Isn't it strange how the world does not change?
Though earth be moved the streets are the same.
History records the achievements we've made,
Records of tracks in the mud where we strayed.
Our tracks on the Moon, our marks on the sea,
Kingdoms of wealth, of power and technology,
Buildings of splendour, art beyond worth,
Why don't we have - peace on this Earth?
What of our anger, what of our hate;
Brutal emotions that colour our fate.
What about love, and what of jealousy;
The harder we look, the less we can see.
And where is the happiness, who’s got the lease;
Why can't we learn to live in our peace?
Who is the martyr, who is the sage?
How do we start to turn back this rage?
Isn't it strange how the world does not change?
Though earth be moved the streets are the same.
History records the achievements we've made,
Records of tracks in the mud where we strayed.
Our tracks on the Moon, our marks on the sea,
Kingdoms of wealth, of power and technology,
Buildings of splendour, art beyond worth,
Why don't we have - peace on this Earth?
What of our anger, what of our hate;
Brutal emotions that colour our fate.
What about love, and what of jealousy;
The harder we look, the less we can see.
And where is the happiness, who’s got the lease;
Why can't we learn to live in our peace?
Who is the martyr, who is the sage?
How do we start to turn back this rage?
The Greek I Know
My obsession:
A passion for life;
The smouldering heat
Of the rain-damped fire;
Intoxicated by the mood
Of spattered rain,
And earthly scents.
No fire burns without passion,
No earth yields,
No voice sparkles,
No emotion stirs the sentiments.
My obsession:
A passion for life;
The smouldering heat
Of the rain-damped fire;
Intoxicated by the mood
Of spattered rain,
And earthly scents.
No fire burns without passion,
No earth yields,
No voice sparkles,
No emotion stirs the sentiments.
The Land
Please do go out and talk.
In the old days,
Our neighbours were support;
But now in this world of gadgetry,
There's little time for human ways.
Please do go out and walk,
Hand in hand.
Eat, make love, play sport;
It's a hollow mind that seeks for comfort,
That 'lives not on the land.
Please do go out and talk.
In the old days,
Our neighbours were support;
But now in this world of gadgetry,
There's little time for human ways.
Please do go out and walk,
Hand in hand.
Eat, make love, play sport;
It's a hollow mind that seeks for comfort,
That 'lives not on the land.
Tired
I'm tired;
I'm tired when there's nothing;
Then things go forward,
And I exhaust myself.
I'm grumpy when I'm tired,
Joy leaves me to rest,
I hibernate like the snake –
Don't poke me,
I bite.
To sleep again,
To lie with half-closed eyes,
Too weak to move.
Rejuvenating –
Vitality in the making.
I like to get tired,
Run the adrenals,
The forward march,
A craving for birthdays,
Growing pangs -
Drawn by optimism.
When I get tired I can't think,
I fight with my mind,
Don't tax me,
I'll explode.
Leave me-
To slip back to nothingness.
I'm tired;
I'm tired when there's nothing;
Then things go forward,
And I exhaust myself.
I'm grumpy when I'm tired,
Joy leaves me to rest,
I hibernate like the snake –
Don't poke me,
I bite.
To sleep again,
To lie with half-closed eyes,
Too weak to move.
Rejuvenating –
Vitality in the making.
I like to get tired,
Run the adrenals,
The forward march,
A craving for birthdays,
Growing pangs -
Drawn by optimism.
When I get tired I can't think,
I fight with my mind,
Don't tax me,
I'll explode.
Leave me-
To slip back to nothingness.
Questions
(1983-1987) Except where noted
Birds and the Bees
I remember now – It was in the mist of miracle life
That he rented a small room
Where his obsessions conjured swirling concepts
That fed his years
Before the dust had settled
He knew the sky was blue
Or black
But he hungered for a better view
Beyond this sensory observation
And while Bees worked tirelessly
The ages came and went
Marching parades for providence
Tomorrow was coming
These exaltations challenged
Reality a timeless beyond
Non static in concept
Non solid in weight
Of dubious importance
And travelling with haste
Birds sang refrains that lightened the load
Generations slipped by with nothing to show
Songs relayed the tunes of the hearth
Written in words that none seemed to grasp
A Universe cantered in dance and poetry
Edges of thought emblazed with history
Birds flew the flags of dinosaurs
Bees pollinated in ways always done
While Man tamed equations of reality
And light-spheres soldiered on...
(24/10/2016)