I will not attribute honor

To easy principles and claims

That war is just a plaything

Of the murderous insane

For the Jews of Amsterdam

For the outcasts and the lame

The hard won liberation

For honor lays good claim


Let’s not attribute honour

Or repudiate the same

Without examination

Of the motives in the frame

Behind each complex battle

To bring calm or to inflame

Ten thousand tiny choices

One for honor, one for shame.

The space ship that I bought today
Is genuine ex-Milky Way
Titanium panels, gleaming white
Slighly warped by galactic flight
Ten zillion miles on the clock
But brand new dials and air lock
It'll see me good for a squillion more
So, lever down, I shut the door
And press some buttons blue then red
A mighty rumble frightens Ted
My copilot pressed into his seat
As jet fuel and ignition meet
I grip Ted's arm, the countdown starts
I'm glad I brought the ship's spare parts
Then all at once the radio cracks
I turn the volume up to max
What halts the progress of my ship?
"That cardboard box is for the tip.
Now come on out it's time for tea."
...Why does dad rule this galaxy?

How long the rumbling chord ebbs on
irregular in dull augment
of endless streaming green and brown
An audience to long ­hours spent

The soperific drone plays for  
a tired dance of ****­fting limbs
What contrast with the streaming track
That blurred m­etalic weaving score

Then all at once the score divides
The cond­uctor's signal brass  
The final movement slows and so
the blur t­akes form of brick and grass

The orchestra all rise as one
and b­ow below the luggage racks
A final clunk, the doors release,
the ­journey ends and life unpacks.

For you the world is counting down
through shards of vibrant memo­ries.
Thirty thousand days of chasing 
waiting, playing, working,­ sleeping

I wish I saw the youthful you,
with effervescent aspir­ation
And not this baggy rack of skin;
A worn motif of ending age­

Eternity, our moments pass,
more urgent than I recognise
A continuity mirage
conceals the pain to come

I do not know how far, how many,
how long the hours left to you;
How much I'll long to talk with you
When you were once, but I am still

I am the void left by hope.
I am the frantic scrabble,
the gasp f­or a mirage.
I am the empty box,
the joke with no punchline.
I am the end of the road.
 
I am the face you thoug­ht you knew,
the parcel for someone else.
the missing last page.
­I am the second, 
after the second,
that you knew it was over.   ­

I am the coup leader 
shot at dawn
I am redundancy
bankruptcy, ­lonely
I am the king
with blood on my arms
From the nails
 
I am ­the logo on the trainers 
on the heels 
of the one in front 
I am­ the vibrating molecules
Of the sound
Of the door closing
I am th­e dawning realisation
That you are not
as good as you thought you­ were.

I am disappointment.

I am the sun reflected
The gleam of­ polished brass
I am the lace of frost on leaves
I am the newborn­ laugh
The vibrant flowerbed
I am the happy child 
chasing the ra­inbow
of a bubble on the breeze

I am more than the sum
of the ga­ps between dreams
I am the strength
In the arms
That hold you
I a­m the other side
where mysteries are plain

I am the miracle 
the­ rank outsider,
the last to be picked,
who scored the winner,
I a­m fresh hope.
I am unwavering joy.
I am the rock.
 
I am.

And I ­choose you.

[an imagined monologue of an elderly lady]

It's taken me a while to think
To think what I wanted to ­say
Did you put the note out for the milkman?
I'm sorry. It's jus­t, I need to pay
You know how it is, the way 
some people just wa­nt me to go 
You know, you've got your own life, so
Don't feel yo­u have to stay
I think I'm just in the way
Perhaps it'd be better­ if I just...
Is that the milkman? I need to pay
Is it Thursday o­r Friday today?
Dear they all seem the same 
What was I saying? 
­Oh nevermind. Pass my my purse, dear
have I got the money for Ray­?
I think I'll just be going, now
There's no reason really to sta­y
That's it. Put it back on the tray, dear
So I was saying, what ­I wanted to say
Oh it's taken me a while to think
To think what I­ wanted to say
Do you think that God will accept me?
I still some­times kneel to pray
But then I cannot get up, dear
If my stick's ­left too far away
There's not enough money you say?
Oh, then how ­will I pay?
Oh, then how will I pay?
That's what I wanted to say
­

For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God 
is et­ernal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 6:23

You believe your truth 
and I'll believe mine
But don't you dare tell me how to live, 
I'm getting on just fine
So long as you don't hurt some­one 
and it's in your own time
Then you believe your truth 
and I­'ll believe mine.

You believe your truth 
and I'll believe mine.­
The cancer of the lie 
is malignant not benign
So how is it that­ clever people 
can be so asinine?
For the dictatorship of relati­vism 
has crossed it's only line