september and the butterflies still flit
from bloom to bloom trees manage still to sway
in gentle time in nature's smoothest play
while i am still alive to smile at it
my heart and mind have found the truest grit
is not in words nor in what good folk say
but in the patterns of the everyday
in ready laughter and in honest wit
there are no angels waiting for my soul
nor gods in the beyond with secrets grand
ready to weigh my spirit for its worth
i take this journey for a single whole
the good i do must come from a kind hand
and honest tears are good with honest mirth

there's no returning from the sacred ship
that bears each victim from the eastern shore
far out to westward where the oceans pour
past the world's edge and over freedom's lip
into the void we move at such a clip
that in a moment we're at the new door
and none is ready to assess the score
add up the bill and work out the full tip
enough of images it's time to scold
those who wait patiently with their critique
but cannot see the beauty in the pain
of torment in harsh sun and twisting cold
that tears the strongest heart and turns it weak
nor can it find true healing in the rain

your choices narrow since the gate's not wide
but yet is ample once you choose your way
all you must do is set apart your pride

not just in honour but in the best allied
arts you have studied since your first calm day
your choices narrow since the gate's not wide

enough for coaches in which large folk ride
but humbler folk might still that path essay
all you must do is set apart your pride

from hope and anguish both yet never hide
your expectation of what we might say
your choices narrow since the gate's not wide

yet little matters since we will not collide
with foolish beings who will not obey
all you must do is set apart your pride

and just be ready to confront the tide
that still treats us as objects of its play
your choices narrow since the gate's not wide
all you must do is set apart your pride

go up the rise and look down on the sea
ten miles away the moon is setting now
this is a moment which will long allow
warm recollection both of bird and tree
there's nothing here right now would disagree
that time is perfect but we can't endow
life and eternity instead the plough
pushes it under where we cannot see
lost to us all and so left far behind
are all those things only half understood
but not then wanted since the childish voice
is not the speaker for the full-grown mind
nor can we tell yet what is truly good
when we are forced to make a final choice

in the bright morning under the free sun
all are now equal each of us may stand
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

the times are over when we had to run
justice has entered where it once was banned
in the the bright morning under the free sun

a different type of journey has begun
when no one has the right of sole command
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

we look around and see that we have won
so very much that all our words seem bland
in the bright morning under the free sun

what will become of us is known to none
but t we are ready and we understand
gland in the knowledge that the lash is done

and we have reached the point where everyone
must pause to sing then claim as theirs the land
in the bright morning under the free sun
glad in the knowledge that the lash is done

deep in the forest withies climb each tree
birds cry our presence we are monsters here
beneath our feet the little creatures flee

in each small clearing there's not much to see
the light of morning seems harsh and austere
deep in the forest withies climb each tree

wild pines in the high branches in the lee
of the bright breezes which bring so much cheer
beneath our feet the little creatures flee

much further in avoiding the decree
of the hard fate that they all seem to fear
deep in the forest withies climb each tree

commensal vision where we might agree
on how life comes both to survive and share
beneath our feet the little creatures flee

while we explain how these things come to be
in dappled light within this pleasant air
deep in the forest withies climb each tree
beneath our feet the little creatures flee

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
their reds and yellows dull on the dark ground
so much of sorrow is already plain

to us who listen as the boughs complain
at the winds passage with a sighing sound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are one more sign of life's passing campaign
against eternity this is one round
so much of sorrow is already plain

and we're the losers since we never gain
a single inch nor hope for a rebound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are but the markers of our lost terrain
someone will come and heap them in a mound
so much of sorrow is already plain

it is reality nothing arcane
our normal vista not a thing profound
dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain
so much of sorrow is already plain

hough aiming forward we are losing ground

hearts may be filled with hope but our hard fate

is to be weighed and valued pound by pound

as the remainders of a great estate

the counters' duty it is to collate

what goes to storage and what to the worm

what will be buried to build up the berm

and what parts of the fortune they might keep

those who are watching are the very firm

our place is taken and we have to sleep



so much of what is said is to confound

the ones whose task it is to count and rate

the complete measure within proper bound

they aren't allowed to lie nor to inflate

the tiny parcels into something great

but must agree the winner is the germ

that strikes the mighty hard as they might squirm

and into every corner seems to creep

it's certain victory we can't affirm

our place is taken and we have to sleep



we wanted to astonish and astound

win the reward of gold and silver plate

have banknotes piled up in a giant mound

cart off bright jewels in a well-made crate

these are not the conditions we instate

we find ourselves most rotten and infirm

unable now to generate a therm

nor over lowest bar ever to leap

our weakness any fool now could confirm

our place is taken and we have to sleep



prince you may rule us for a certain term

since none of us has power to reaffirm

just what we were nor what we had to keep

within our power nor underneath each derm

our place is taken and we have to sleep

in places known lacking all restriction
we lift our heads and arms extend their reach
whilst all the silent learn to practice speech
as sterling critics take honour from fiction
with truth resulting from the hard conviction
that since no one will give what we beseech
making reality out of all they teach
we must become our own true benediction
this is a world where silence means dissent
from standard syllogisms of bright command
yet we are bound to  stay within the mesh
of human ******* of what is meant
by these creations of the head and hand
that come together in the mortal flesh

you make your vision plain in every word
the pulse of nature moving in full heat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred
the trip is over none will come to greet
you make your vision plain in every word

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred
but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

proclaiming season's changes have recurred
but time is motion every year more fleet
you make your vision plain in every word

including those that we have not yet heard
break out of silence still our peace is sweet
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

to wake the morning and to cry absurd
notes of redemption for each empty street
you make your vision plain in every word
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

we miss the mark by blaming modern haste
for all the losses that the old declare
since time's the one thing that we cannot waste

why bother waiting when the one abased
will be revenged when none is left to care
we miss the mark by blaming modern taste

instead of noting that the old displaced
was most unkind and never was quite fair
since time's the one thing that we cannot waste

you ought to leave at once before the taste
of anger drives our guardians all spare
we miss  the mark by blaming modern taste

for those disasters that our kind have faced
the ***** magics came on unaware
since time's the one thing that we cannot waste

burning our feet showing our gems were paste
leaving behind only a haze in air
we miss the mark by blaming modern haste
since time's the one thing that we cannot waste

those who have vanished those gone up the spout
the scarperers last season's best reaping
were our last bulwark against fear or doubt

so total silence follows on the shout
clamping down ******* laughter and weeping
those who have vanished those gone up the spout

in teaching us just what to do without
and what exactly is worth safe-keeping
were our last bulwark against fear or doubt

but since they're gone we lack all redoubt
no place to which we can hurry creeping
those who have vanished those gone up the spout

simply precede us on the journey out
message and method both so sweeping
were our last bulwark against fear or doubt

now in the midst of this inhuman drought
we fade into the darkness while sleeping
those who have vanished those gone up the spout
were our last bulwark against fear or doubt

at the commencement all the world was dared
for a small prize a kiss  and then a hope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

not by the ones whose  urgency was feared
as they came running down the morning *****
at the commencement all the world was dared

just so they could with justice be prepared
for honourable parting we elope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

in proper form and time by those who cared
more deeply and were happy they could cope
at the commencement all the world was dared

yet we survive while all the children stared
as new dawn seemed to offer yet more scope
so that the magic feeling would be shared

by all the folk who knew they had been spared
to hold with strength what they could barely *****
at the commencement all the world was dared
so that the magic feeling would be shared

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed
for wearing chains and keeping dark heads bowed
since august morning has come round at last

although the sons of hate may stand aghast
we know our parents wept but were not cowed
so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

and we will leave till now we had held fast
but we can show the world that we are proud
since august morning has come round at last

so long a silence then the thunderblast
of our rejoicing we were good and loud
so now the clocks are showing the time's passed

for humble patient service we will cast
away all ******* tear apart the shroud
since august morning has come round at last

with our free hands we sanctify the past
as for the future we face it unbowed
so now all clocks are showing the time's passed
since august morning has come round at last

we leave behind the warm and easy pace
in places where the past remains awake
in swamp and cornfield for the old gods' sake
while modern wisdom does not show its face
except at urgent need the hot embrace
of constant summer overcomes mistake
in the fast living of each pool and lake
with ways of showing that there is still grace
what we approach is not as bright or bold
the subdued pallor of the northern skies
cannot approach the deep december blue
that give us cheer is kind and is not cold
announces promise yet contains no lies
but expectation of a future due

your choices come down fast to none at all
an echo of the truth is no reward
since none will hear you if you have to call

out through the darkness that shall swiftly fall
when hope and vengeance reach their first accord
your choices come down fast to none at all

a world once large has rapidly grown small
and all good options have gone by the board
since none will hear you if you have to call

so half the planet listens to this brawl
while all the others look away quite bored
your choices come down fast to none at all

you've lost the plot been cast beyond the wall
finding out now just what you had deplored
since none will hear you if you have to call

in utter silence you confront the squall
with all the energy you can afford
your choices come down fast to none at all
since none will hear you if you have to call

in hidden corner there's a place for sleep
you know it well and will come out to play
in your good time meanwhile you'll let me keep
my larger vigils on this cloudy day
seeking the wisdoms of a time of pain
with half an eye cocked for the coming rain
and senses focused on approaching night
(we know it's coming though the day is bright)
hands put together purpose that is kind
while every heart is poised for instant flight
into the bright dominion of the mind

the lives of people never seem so deep
as feline hungers in their simple way
you are the wanderers and we the sheep
our normal tasks will seem to your delay
from urgent hunger and there is no gain
from what we're doing that seems to you plain
it does not come within your line of sight
provides you nothing of your household right
the sort of thing that is best left behind
lest it should bring a darkness or a blight
into the bright dominion of the mind

your eye is focused on the things that creep
across the yard that you would wish to slay
we know this and for fortune will not weep
but wonder at the words you'd like to say
if speech were given and you could complain
at being bound in by such a golden chain
as if we punished your for our delight
and thought your chiding visions could indict
our cruelty in keeping you confined
but see you move with happy summer light
into the bright dominion of the mind

prince you might think this subject impolite
and such debate is not the best to cite
yet we must take the pathways that we find
from your dark rule of chaos and old night
into the bright dominion of the mind

we  fear to echo what the sunlight speaks
in voices that cannot be raised too loud
for fear we might stand out within the crowd
or be admonished as monsters or freaks
so we are silent do not strain our breeks
in the assurance we will not be proud
of course or carriage nothing is allowed
to harm the tenor of our days and weeks
for normal passage this might be enough
but more is needed when we have to find
the kind of courage that you only need
when life has taken all your other stuff
and you’ve been drive mad as well as blind
yet have a chance for one more human deed

the moon is dancing in the  village square
with happy girls whose eyes reflect the stars
while older folk bite down on their cigars
and watch the smoke rise through the calm night air
this is the time of change the turning year
moving fast downward but no harsh thing mars
the splendid moment and there are no bars
to joy this night the morning's time for fear
we do not know what sorrows still to come
will burn themselves into each youthful heart
no terrors lurk but love's rewards are won
though elder smiles conceal the truths of glum
experience they let the young ones dart
into dark corners soon enough comes sun

this empty form with simple sound
is filled echoes amplify the space
they occupy but lack  the grace

to be both honest and profound
as keepers of spirit and pace
this empty form with simple sound

becomes the whole complete and round
that we desire more than the chase
of life itself marked on each face
this empty form with simple sound

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

there is a corner where light does not reach
even at noontime so we go to hide
away from where the foolish yellers preach

some days we dream of lazing on the beach
and waiting for the changing of the tide
there is a corner where light does not reach

untouched by hardness of unruly speech
where none can urge and no one can deride
away from where the foolish yellers preach

we may be safe from murderer and leech
both from the open blade and from the snide
there is a corner where light does not reach

into the silence where there is no screech
of angry voices seeking to divide
away from where the foolish yellers preach

we may be sure of what belongs to each
and how we find that only out of pride
there is a corner  where light does not reach
away from where the foolish yellers preach

the thing's the same once you've told the story
putting the planet into normal mode
you've won power but never truly glory

you know it all is just transitory
each of us goes a short way on the road
the thing's the same once you've told the story

whether the ending's peaceful or gory
each must arrive at the one sole abode
you've won power but never truly glory

of no import whether whig or tory
for you the process is in no way slowed
the thing's the same once you've told the story

only message here's memento mori
the human network down to one last node
you've won power but never truly glory

answer now in words that are not hoary
explaining how you cracked the final code
the things the same once you've told the story
you've won power but never truly glory

where fallen angles now define true space
in steady motion of my dull dead blood
the quantity of which threatens to flood

beyond proper confine without such grace
as is expected in these times of mud
where fallen angles now define true space

our acts come under limits we can trace
out of the silence through each heavy thud
of closing vision as hope turns to dud
where fallen angles now define true space

you haven't got the sense to make things short
when length must matter brevity's the key
to bridge the immense gap from is to ought
which many of us do not want to see
since clarity of vision makes us flee
straight to the place where no one wants to hide
afraid of all the facts that cannot be
but truth and passion have to coincide

 your choices do not lead us to support
the cause that we learnt at our parents' knee
when we were told that it was dearly bought
and at that time all things seemed to agree
with what we wanted and no absentee
masters abroad were eager to deride
nor wail and whimper like a mad banshee
but truth and passion have to coincide

 you think the vessel won't get into port
since nothing you commanded came to be
while those you ordered have to face a court
and some of then will hang from gallows-tree
or lie beneath a dark and angry sea
as fate and anguish either may decide
since neither time nor  force will hear your plea
but truth and passion have to coincide

 prince you have given cause to disagree
with all your actions but you've shown esprit
the problem is you've chosen the wrong side
the time has come to fight or else to flee
but truth and passion have to coincide

this is the choice that we defy the night
for a short time and keep alive a spark
timid perhaps but worthy to remark
a simple thing of note to honest sight
rejection of the vast kingdom of blight
a wisdom that calls on us to skylark
with laughter to ignore the final dark
empowering the fragile human light
each one is a beginning we are told
to be recorded and to be advised
of what's around below and what's above
to find out what is clay and what true gold
what's best admired and what's best despised
the fruit of all our hope and all our love

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 **** 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

the echoes never cease in time
so we are stuck on the cliff face
losers without redeeming grace


those farts that in primordial slime
began old evolution's race
(the echoes never cease in time)


now seem to us divine sublime
but were just stinks in some dark place
far from the light or so we trace
the echoes never cease in time

there are no answers coming in the night
nor clarity in morning that is why
we seek for explanations on the fly
in earnest wish for ending of our plight
but nothing comes there is no vivid sight
all's grey and dullness settles on each eye
there's no firm sanity we can espy
the universe seems ordered by mere spite
when we were children we were told that cause
and effect followed by a straight decree
of nature's and the world was really plain
to adult eyes but now we have no laws
to follow and we find we are not free
since those who want to lead us are insane

so long a silence covers up much pain
we can rejoice but we must still recall
this sun of freedom rises through the rain

why they were taken we need not explain
for weight of shadows on us casts a pall
so long a silence covers up much pain

of those who suffered for other folks’ gain
whose battered bodies hung against the wall
this sun of freedom rises through the rain

and still we dance our every hope made plain
elsewhise we’d stoop and crouch and bend and bawl
so long a silence covers up much pain

they won their battle and their long campaign
whose time of servitude was not so small
this sun of freedom rises through the rain

with words of justice sung in no wild strain
by men and women proudly standing tall
so long a silence covers up much pain
this sun of freedom rises through the rain

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar
beneath the heavy  clouds while  children sleep
oblivious to the way  the long hours creep


like mice through the long grass so we abhor
the many pressures that have made us weep
we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar


so near our heads it must affect the score
and strike our hearts  the fountain's source is deep
in native rock meanwhile like passive sheep
we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

to travel takes us back to where we start
all journeys have good learning as their end
but no one can go further than their heart

we seek a place from which pain must depart
leaving us healthier and with a friend
to travel takes us back to where we start

where all our bags are piled upon the cart
yet we can see those folk who will not bend
but no one can go further than their heart

so we have gone unto a place apart
to understand but not to reprehend
to travel takes us back to where we start

into the torment that must make us smart
beyond the certain hope which we defend
but no one can go further than their heart

therefore we master the creative art
that teaches us the ways in which to blend
to travel takes us back to where we start
but no one can go further than their heart

already buds are forming on each tree
visible through the february mist
this sign of coming spring won't be dismissed
life makes to us its yearly guarantee
that after darkness comes the jubilee
while all of nature's colours still persist
and will explode the roadsides will be kissed
with  light again all life yearns to be free
in each heart hides a promissory note
from past to future valid for all time
worth all the stories that our folk have told
to be redeemed when we are called to vote
weighed in the balance and cleansed of all grime
for a true substance worth far more than gold

in the damp corner of the morning yard

where grey and quiet many secrets wait

this is the time when nature stand unbarred



not yet for us is life or fortune marred

by force of life or family or state

in the damp corner of the morning yard



where not a bird or beast now stands on guard

all fast asleep and seeming just to wait

this is the time when nature stands unbarred



to wary eyes and life seems not so hard

as we are told and we may now create

in the damp corner of the morning yard



a better world with choices not so hard

with sweeter wisdom and a kinder fate

this is the time when nature stands unbarred



one lucid moment before light is marred

and all our knowledges begin to grate

in the damp corner of the morning yard

this is the time when nature stands unbarred

each journey's not a problem for the road
but recollection tricks us into tears
each sudden image coming unawares
and  then revealing there's a complex code
that we'd forgotten then time overflowed
into each heart and took away our fears
washed out the sad crustation of the years
displaying all the good that was bestowed
in this refraction what we see is clear
to older heads unbowed by weight of age
whose eyes preserve a proper youthful sight
with memory of that softer mountain air
of solemn words declared on rustic stage
before a passage into tropic light

mischief is made by those who hate all peace
and want us all within hard walls and gates
with loudest words and after harsh debates
they'll order silence and demand we cease
turbulent thoughts that challenge their caprice
command each soul into narrow estates
and keep each heart distinct from its best mates
just so that love and light may both decrease
they call it summer when they see it snow
mistake  the cold for some redeeming balm
and bid us all accept the freezing rain
out of the north claiming they see it glow
with ready warmth they tell us all is calm
that all is gentle that we're past all pain

so now we measure trust by line of sight
as all depart in wonder at the rain
not knowing what the new day might contain
but happy that they've made it past the night
just one more time in this uncertain light
no one is guaranteed surcease of pain
but all are pleased and they will not complain
out of sheer gladness at escape from blight
we are not clear just what is the true rule
with which to govern those who always tell
the human story from the underside
since they have learnt it in a horrid school
where life comes down to touch and taste and smell
and there's no room for any thought of pride

no matter what the peak arcs all descend
unto the earth from which they first arose
that's the most certain the most profound trend
even for one who best withstands the blows
of evil fortune or of cruel fate
falls to despair then rises to high state
no epoch should be measured by one rule
yet we insist that far beyond the cool
and shaded halls where measure has its sway
all things are governed by a simple tool
so each becomes the hero of their day

just past its height the moment seems to bend
with all the weight of ages that could close
cold time's long judgment that will never mend
either warm eyes or the dull hearts that froze
from lack of feeling or the heavy freight
of knowledge that would rise and not abate
from the bright ocean to the chiefly stool
while other wisdoms might in time unspool
we were not shown the truth but in one way
which was to lead us all back into school
so each becomes the hero of their day

there's nothing more on which we must depend
between the morning and the next repose
when all the hours will with clean music blend
so that our thoughts will come out sweeter prose
all of our motion take a smoother gait
while vision leave  us with no dark to hate
returning light finds each beside a pool
bright with our hopes and in the morning cool
though being clear and apt enough for play
we can be certain that none is a fool
so each becomes the hero of their day

we have been warned against the last misrule
of ancient dodderers sunk in their drool
their grimaces the doltish things they say
enough to know we're past this basic school
so each becomes the hero of their day

the deepest silence comes right after rain
just before nightfall when the milky light
seems full of portents while your straining sight
catches some glimpse of homing bird seen plain
at the right moment when the skies attain
that perfect colour fading fast from bright
just north of where begins the rule of night
to make us sigh now that is what we gain
here in the kingdom where no fools may rule
there is contentment earned at a high cost
by those of us who know not what we pay
nor understand the lessons of this school
until we find the gifts we thought long lost
and on a sudden learn we're on the way

no need for echoes where the silence heaps
up in dark corners waiting for new night
to lower herself and let the breathy might
that we call summer with its sudden leaps
of devastating beauty stay our sleeps
from each astonishment that seems so right
just when it happens then we turn that slight
degree of justice into one that weeps
we are not wrong to ask just what the time
must measure out for each unwanted child
who comes upon the wall and does pause
to beg for mercy nor to ring the chime
of those who think the tenor is too mild
but will uphold the harshest of our laws

we cycle round and mark another year
when spring has come and buds are on the tree
the skies are light and pollen's in the air

what started in my heart as just a dare
(a challenge against fate) has come to be
we cycle round and mark another year

with greater hope and more reasons for care
as darker odours join the potpourri
the skies are light and pollen's in the air

but time's a gift that we don't have to spare
nor is good chance coming upon the sea
we cycle round and mark another year

by blending vacant smile and distant stare
with swift refusal of the things we see
the skies are light and pollen's in the air

those are the givens and all else is smear
upon the screen of life we cannot flee
we cycle round and mark another year
the skies are light and pollen's in the air

there are no magic secrets in the mud
beneath our feet but worlds have passed away
while it was formed and our own great display
marks just a stage in passing drought and flood
each one of us from hero down to dud
knows that we have so little time to stay
and yet seem hasty to fritter our day
in silly matters that just waste our blood
time was we might have made some sort of stand
against the forces that push down so hard
to turn our efforts into so much smoke
but we are left with only a weak hand
remaining on what seems the final yard
and sense enough to understand the joke

now there are echoes now hear silence fall
along with sunset all across the hill
for one short moment shadows on the wall
seem like the symbols of gigantic will
writing in darkest inks the coming night
not as despair but as remaking right
there is so much to do so much to say
our choices not so clear at end of day
but this is duty we are bound to cope
with all the tasks and burdens on our way
for we have nothing if we have not hope

we're told the journey's never for the small
and we don't doubt it there's a monstrous bill
that must be paid and horrors will befall
those who can't argue with sufficient skill
against their masters those with honest sight
have some good chance of seeing the new light
while those whose strategy is to delay
may find there are some other costs to pay
and twists and turns on the trip up the *****
but no great monsters that we'll need to slay
for we have nothing if we have not hope

on crest of mountain there's a merry hall
and those who get there do not come to ill
yet there's no triumph that would be so small
a payment for the effort and goodwill
that we put in nor are we folk of might
to carouse and rejoice on the warm height
just actors in one scene of a long play
torn between tragedy and cabaret
happy enough to have some towels and soap
to clean up at the end of a long day
for we have nothing if we have not hope

prince you may think that we have gone astray
stepped out of line and lost all our cachet
but there's a lot of play left to our rope
we will be watching for the sun's first ray
for we have nothing if we have not hope

we find that choices now have all turned hard
but may not leave this hot and ****** field
there's no way forward and return is barred

all faces that were fresh are old and marred
but minds are focused and all hearts are steeled
we find that choices now have all turned hard

yet cannot give the past our fond regard
for what was warm and free is now congealed
there's no way forward and return is barred

to those who are obliged to stand on guard
awaiting a strong word to be revealed
we find that choices now have all turned hard

our praises won't be sung by any bard
at least our fate will not be long concealed
there's no way forward and return is barred

no option then but play the final card
take up our stand and show we will not yield
we find that choices now have all turned hard
there's no way forward and return is barred

to speak of valour is no great mistake
when each of us confronts the howling gale
those who are ready when the sandbags fail
know what is meant when city turns to lake
each of them is that moment wide awake
while in their corners all the cowards quail
left with no benefit save their own stale      
as even stoutest bodies bend and shake
words that are spoken in the autumn sun
lose all their purchase during winter's turn
but are the currency of many schools
repenting of their choices no one's done
before they see their youthful wishes burn
and know themselves for ordinary fools

the nightly croaking from the pond
recalls another time and place
the sounds do not quite correspond
but have an equal sort of grace

what's winter here has turned so mild
that we can see the forceful green
reminder of the nearby wild
just inches past the window screen

those arguments that we have made
regarding mother nature's pain
seem all at once a sad charade
as weeds spring up after the rain

what we have learnt is very clear
about the cycles in their course
of tropic or of temperate year
they have the same gigantic force

the frogs that croak in pond or tree
ignoring us proclaiming life
for their short passage do live free
and teach us something about strife

no one this day shall say they stood aloof
when the new rose first came into fresh flower
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

we would have faced a certain harsh reproof
no long before but all changed in an hour
no one this day shall say they stood aloof

nor that the entire fabric warp and woof
had stayed the same new blossom in each bower
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

for fear of learning just how great the goof
would harm the doer dread would them devour
no one this day shall say they stood aloof

the acts are real we see that there's no spoof
of change or meaning the old world we scour
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

today we saw the crowds from every roof
acclaim as honour took the seat of power
no one this day shall say they stood aloof
and none dared crush the bloom beneath a hoof

none left behind except the final few
who dragging feet had given in to fear
and felt the cold now in the still dark air
there was no doubt but that each of them knew
no help would come not even what was due
since out beyond stood no one who would care
about such folk and none with heart to spare
for such as perish in cold morning dew
now liberation is the glory word
for when the yoke is taken off our backs
but that is not what happened on that night
the actual story’s complex and absurd
involving battles skirmishes and tax
with weeping loss of kindred truth and right

you wake and read the message on your phone
which tells you something that is bitter cold
at edge of summer now you are not old
just middle-aged not in the best of tone
a little silly too inclined to moan
about the minor things yet not the gold
measure of what can now be truly told
you see the words a crab now eats her bone
the tale's been written on a rotting page
yet can be read by any human eye
we can't escape the poison nor the taint
nothing avails there is no use to rage
each comfortable answer is a lie
and yet she set the signal down in paint

the peadove in the cage with healing wing
is fed and watered given proper care
but other birds have better cause to sing

in open freedom far beyond the ring
of human fences when we who now spare
the peadove in the cage with healing wing

have made the choice to take away the sting
of what was cruel in this whole affair
but other birds have better cause to sing

about the matters that our causes bring
and so their voices carry on the air
while peadove in the cage with healing wing

must be imprisoned though fed like a king
lacking all liberty and full of fear
but other birds have better cause to sing

upon the day we choose this bird to spring
out of its lodge and back into the the air
the peadove in the cage with healing wing
but other birds have better cause to sing