1.
It’s true, you know
I observed it quite dispassionately
You loved me less
When I wasn’t working.
I know love is a psychological aberration
Built on moments of joy
Shared accidentally
But I didn’t realise that it was based
On conceptions of value.
I did want to make you proud
I wanted to be worthy of your love,
I hadn’t realised
I was supposed to earn it.
You thought I should make something of myself
And I wanted to make myself better
Someone you could love, or at least respect.
It seems we both forgot what Christ said:
“I am what I am”,
There’s no use pretending
To be anything else.
2.
On the day I told you
I had got a job
You sang a song
As though I’d recovered
From an unpleasant disease.
Were you happier then
Than when we tried to make love
Or went on that picnic?
I was glad as well,
It meant we had something to talk about.
But my interest in the subject
Of my unexciting job
Is strictly limited;
Surely you also find it dull?
I wish you hadn’t been so glad,
And said something like,
“It’s a shame
You’ll have to spend the day at work
Away from me and nature and your beautiful thoughts”
Instead of
“At least it’s a start
And better than moping around all day.”
3.
You took it too personally
When I said “I love you”
And naturally thought I was mistaken.
What I meant was
“Today I love the world and all things in it
And I’m glad to share this moment with you.”
If I’d been with someone else
I would perhaps have felt no less radiant,
But I did want and value your company
And then, of course, I made you a giant
To feed my pride.
But the beauty inside all of us,
When it manages to surface,
Is too generous to limit its love to one.
My one ambition
Is to liberate that gold within;
It melts all barriers,
It could free us all.
This morning
I was an hour late for work.

I want to make you all cry
It's good for people to cry
It's better than sitting round miserably
Pretending to laugh
People don't cry enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to die
For kids who are hungry and put to hard labour
When they should be greedy and pains in the neck
Who know the world is wrong but won't be heard
Who only hear shouting, destruction
And cries of distress
Only our shared tears can clean up this mess

I want to make you all cry
At the shame of getting by
Unable to cope with life's complexities
Or even ask why
Love is never enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to lie
But must for the sake of our little luxuries
The only way we spread love and happiness
To spite the orders that come from above
“You work your contract or there's the door!”
That's the reason why
We live on lie after lie after lie.

I want to make you all cry
For people you just let go
To politics and the geography
You know, the money
Forcing us to depart!
I want to make you all cry
For the people you must pass by
In your own home
On the street, in the shop and on the TV news
Feeling sorry but too powerless to help
All the problems you deal with by yourself
With nobody knowing to help you
Just trying to smile
At the cruel way the world became so vile

I want to make you all cry
To salute what you see die
In Syria, here and inside yourself
For what? The money?
Global economy?
I want to make you all cry
It's urgent, we must cry today!
It's not too late
To face up to what we've been trying to deny
What we have suffered and what we are losing
Blanking it out with our kind of boozing
Not letting the merciful tears flow
Time to let them go!
To weep and embrace and do what we know.

Comets or meteors?
Perhaps they're like rooks and crows
“Where there's a rook there's a crow
“Where there's crows there's rooks”

To be one amongst a shower, a storm of meteors
Hurtling through the emptiness of infinity
Protected by the confidence of knowing
That we and our equally frenzied fellow travellers
However far we hurl ourselves
Flashing by through all the vastness
Looking tiny and bright like a fireside's sparks
Consumed in a stampede, burning up and soon to be lost
Are in fact racing along a familiar orbit
That could last as long as a million years
Which all too soon will pull us back to where we've been
A familiar sight, overlooking what we've already seen

Or to be a lonely meteor
Deserting the pack, distracted by some new attraction
Sampling a novel atmosphere, hardly aware
Of the flames gathering round
Till the grip that was a comfort
That was such a pleasure to be caught by
Loses its interest or changes its intent
Returning the wanderer to the emptiness
Or turning a journey of exploration
Into a pitiful conflagration
With a final pathetic fall
Messy and destructive to all
That witness the meaningless call
Of that misguided journey's concluding bump

Well, I don't know if this is good science
And hope not to be subject to such violence
Shooting stars may enjoy applause from those below
But I'll see it all from here, and adore the moon's glow.

There's something you must know
A secret I haven't dared to show
The awful truth that could tear us apart
The terrible fact that might break your heart
The curse that caused me to keep so silent
For fear that you might suffer something violent
See all your hopes transformed to endless tears
Your innocent smiles turn into lonely years
When you finally understand and see
That I am not what you want me to be
But only a lonely thing that haunts the earth
Despised by all who know how little it's worth
Rightly regarded with fear and hate
Especially when the hour is cold and too late
Of all creatures the one that is the very worst
Plagued by a terrible unquenchable thirst
You may yet be saved but I never can
Forgive me my darling, for I am human.

Sometimes the noise of a plane passing overhead
Drowns all other sound and kills it dead
At others a quieter aircraft appears unexpectedly, surprisingly near
Narrowly, rapidly pursuing its descending trajectory
Dominating the view from my bedroom window
Igniting a tiny unwanted spark of fear
Will it crash? Will it crash?

None has crashed yet, not round here
Serene and mostly high above they pass and rapidly disappear
Obliviously delivering such highly valued freight
As human beings back from holiday
Or the latest "smart" bombs with their messages of death and hate.

Lovely, aren't they, and cleverly crafted
Designed so the lucky few may soar above
And feel superior to those far below
Like movie heroes just beating the inevitable wall of flame
Escaping the shocking weather to commandeer their favourite sunny getaway
Hoping that their hearty chuckles, industrial heat and noisy machines
Might be enough to wipe their unforeseen consequences clean

That beautiful desirable laboriously polished surfaces of metal
Will prove impossible to ignore, sweep or burn everything before
Enable them to tick their boxes, hit their targets, achieve their dreams
Demonstrate their righteous superiority
Finally banish any phantom thought remaining
Will it crash? Will it crash?

With a mighty effort we mount the air
Thrilled by the depth into which we might fall
Determined and ready to sacrifice everything to beat them all
So that we can exercise our right not to care
About the losers huddled beneath the clouds
Through which we cut such an unrelenting path
Leaving a trail of promises broken and wasted resources
Dedicated to the demands of economic forces
Flying away on a ride so thrilling
It's easy to ignore what we might be killing

And I with my feet on the ground too stolidly
Must pause and lift my eyes once more
To the rapid passing by of those who appear
To have passed the great test of life
While I tut and try to forgive the distraction
And may sometimes reflect that
One doesn't want to be remembered for having passed
But for having been present

And that any crashing done round here
Is solely into the pillow case
For the purpose of obtaining peaceful rest
And finding one's dreams the old fashioned way
Without the terrible need for jet propulsion
Or the nagging stressful sensation of having had to run away

It's ******* round here but I'm not going anywhere until it gets better
It's lovely round here and so are all the people
I live like a tourist so why go touring?

We have arrived at our destination
Trying to deny that would be silly and boring
So instead of flying off in search of escape and anecdotes
Why not dare to share the ultimate adventure
Of trying to have an honest and intelligent conversation?

I wish I could use words the way a woman can
Not struggling to let go of each one
But pouring them out like water
A smooth steady stream to comfort others or herself
A raging torrent to wear away the most recalcitrant earthen lump
A sudden drenching that dumbfounds the dignity of the pompous
A steady drip that will break the coldness of self serving reason
The pretty, witty music that entices one to dance
The shrewish cackling mockery that makes you feel you’ve got no chance
The calm murmur that can reach the loneliest, most troubled soul
The endless seeming wittering that will always have its goal
Or perhaps her words don’t mean anything at all
They just break the surface of previously parched land
Making little bubbles that pop before they’re seen
With a puff of freshly made air
The tiny gasp with which life can begin
And even when she’s silent and alone
The words will not stop
Going round and round her head until someone can be told
Pressing to express her joy and stress
The wild life she struggles to control
The dear words she wants to give with love
Which may escape to wreak revenge or savage the innocent
Which may be used against her by ruthless charmers
With echoes of what she wants to hear or damaging quotes
Of things she said but no longer feels or means
So sometimes even the best of women may feel defeat
Beaten by words she said that have been ignored
Or twisted till the love has been choked out of them
And they come back to haunt her, weary little beasts
That she must contain all over again, even though she knows
That soon they and the thoughts they hold will return to demanding life
And she that was once their mistress will become their slave
And that is why though talking with women has been one of the great joys of my life
Though I love the verbal jousting and respect a sound tongue lashing
I still hope and dream of the time when the woman I love and I
May be together in wordless peace
Comfortable enough with each other not to speak
Knowing that the immensity of silence
Is easily filled by our mutual love.

Oh where oh where has my little bell gone?
The one that I had on my bike
It used to help me go about the place
And do the sort of things that I like

I could warn others of my approach
Or greet them with a cheerful “Tring!”
Now when a bell sound seems appropriate
I have nothing with which one might ring.

So where oh where has my little bell gone?
Cycling just isn’t the same
If I find the blighter who took that bell
I’ll give him or her lots of blame.

One day I’ll find another such bell
Then I’ll be more full of zeal,
For what is the good of riding about
Without something upon which to peal?

To peal and ring, ****** and toll
And generally let the world know
That one is going places and fast!
(Hoping not to receive another such blow)