Here the horse munches the grass
little knowing the trots of yore
for time when lays the bricks with curse
unhinges the strongest door.

Here the horse is tethered to feed
little hearing the neighs of past
for time when crumbles sows a seed
grows new order from soil of dust.

Here the horse lazes in sun
little seeing the shadow's growth
for time when ends a period's run
buries in the walls a lover's oath.

Here the horse walks in a round
little feeling the earth's spin
for time when shrinks the highest to ground
kingdoms fall in heaps of ruin.

lay dead . do not speak nor ask for   fear.

lay quiet. do not write nor tell. there    are

new shoes by the wardrobe.     at an angle.

still. do not move nor participate in  any

way.

do not breathe, nor cry. there are    new

shoes by the wardrobe,            new shoes.



sbm.

Sometimes at night

asleep by the firelight

I dream about them

how they died

some are singing

and others saying what

they no longer see

walking fencelines

limping as if in pain

some of them handsome

and some mysterious

silent but not

for long they tell you

men scarcely know

how beautiful fire is

and old stories

they can't remember

unless you can

still look them in the eye.

The hike up the steep grassy knoll was arduous.
My legs had laboured for the heart that yearns.
The peak had called with a chorus of promise;
The lyrics sung of vantage and foresight
and of clarity that burns.

The summit now conquered...
Strained eyes blinked away the sting from
trickling rivulets of sweat.
I was perched atop a boulder anticipating a view
which I had expected different but inadvertently get.

The sun was kind and air was sweet.
I tried to see as hard as my lungs had fought...
But my eyes couldn't puncture the shroud
of fog and mist
that lingered over the future I had sought.

Attention brought back to where I had trudged.
I can't move forward without looking back...
At the path through which I had decided to pass.
Gasping at the result of conscious footfalls and clumsy missteps.
I can't help but regret and weep
over the wake of the devastation,
my reckless feet had made apparent in the grass.

with all these Black Sheep
    from the bottom end
    of the top 1 percent
in the new government
spewing lies without shame
we will have to rename
the White House

I walked on down to the travelling show
Thinking to take a ride,
When the barker said, in a voice so low
‘There’s a Dancing Girl inside.’
He opened the flap of the crimson tent
And he tried to wave me in,
I said I didn’t know what he meant,
He replied, ‘What price for sin?’

I said I wanted to take a ride
Not look at a Dancing Girl,
There were plenty down at the local club
In my easy, ****** world.
‘There’s not a thing she could teach me now
For I’ve seen it all before.’
He said, ‘This girl is the Jezebel
Who performed for Kings, and more.’

I waved him off and I carried on
In my search for a thrilling ride,
And spent the evening whirling, twirling
Over the countryside,
But as I turned to travel on home
I passed by the crimson tent,
And the barker opened the flap again
To see if I would relent.

It must have been curiosity
For I turned and went inside,
Into its darkened depths I went
To flatter his wounded pride,
There was eastern music playing low
And I heard a woman wail,
Kneeling in front of an altar there
And the name inscribed was ‘Baal.’

She heard me there, and got to her feet,
And danced like an ancient rhyme,
But underneath the paint on her face
Was the ravage of endless time,
Gold and silver glittered and gleamed
From the very little she wore,
With chains and bracelets jangling as
She danced around, like a *****.

She pressed her body against me then
And jabbered some foreign tongue,
The only word that I thought I heard
Was the one on the altar, One!
The barker stood in the entranceway
And she muttered his name, aloud,
She said Ahab, and I thought to run
He stood in the way, and bowed.

She pushed me up to the altar then
And tried to force me to kneel,
I thought of the Bible story, and
My skin had crawled at her feel,
I fought her off, and pushed her away
The man she called Ahab scowled,
And as I left by the flap of the tent
The dogs by the entrance howled.

David Lewis Paget