O Mistress Moth! Leap not unto the flame;
Fear not the night that cloaks prey from its foes —
Light is the unforgiving dais of fame
And seeking of its joys unveils its woes —
The pointed pyramid has but one capstone;
Yet many storied stones may crave its peak,
And trampling underfoot the very backbone
That urges strength may make the structure weak —
Be guided not by falsehoods ever bright;
The fairest candle lit beyond a pane
Of crystal glass may dream of freedoms flight,
Imprisoned in its lonely lead-lined frame —
        Be at peace —  Night demands no keen redress;
        And suffer not through fear of loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  Too swift the curtain came
To billow through a broken pane the throes
Of light and life anointed on your name —
A miscreant by each appointment grows
Until upon a trove it stands full-height,
And towering hence commands with regal reign
A Queen’s demise — So was it done this night —
Let all who bore their malice wear this shame,
For in their hands this sin will not atone;
It grows as shadows lengthen in the wake
Of shuttered light — To be as one alone
Was much to bear, too much this one to take —
        So by this end an end we now possess;
        Our trial to bear this loss for loneliness.

O Mistress Moth!  A clamour and acclaim
Born of deeds born of sadness softly goes
On — On with gust and grateful to remain
An itch to tease far far beyond repose —
A single truth makes many falsehoods moan —
And some that made your vow no longer speak,
And some that speak speak things to them unknown,
And who knows true the boldness of the meek?
Yours lives eternal blazing in the light —
A hope borne beacon fated to retain
The dreams and fears of one short mortal plight;
A star that echoes like a lost refrain —
        If light was all your heart sought to caress,
        May boundless light repeal your loneliness.

I cannot speak for thee, but here I lay
Ensconced inside my home, not struck with fear,
But purposed to entrench within this sphere
Until this growing gloom has passed away —
I dine on steak, with wine; I quaff my scotch,
And pick at nibbles from a fancy plate;
I click to find a comedy to watch,
Averting eyes from news I’ve come to hate —
Was it thus so when plague swept through the land?
When Spanish flu ran rampant and unchained?
Did children sneak to parties parents banned?
Were beaches full of tourists unrestrained?
        I think, compared to them, we have it best,
        And time shall ease our sorrows with her zest.

Climate change apocalypse,
The views of eco-terrorists:
    No one flying,
    Airlines dying,
    People unemployed;

Gulp clean air in grateful sips,
Locked in your home with trembling lips:
    No one buying,
    Industry dying,
    Boarded shops preside;

Marvel as the sunlight skips
Across the bows of rusting ships:
    No one cruising,
    Nor perusing
    Trips on oceans wide;

Ah! This world does well eclipse
Old oil-obsessed dictatorships:
     No one caring,
     No one sharing,
     Since our whole world died.

I look for truth amongst the dust
And debris of an erstwhile time,
When life had hope, as all life must
Before it meets an end in crime;
A seed was sown, a scene was set,
And time was apt to soon forget

The rain that fell to cleanse the blood,
Perchance from angels weepy-eyed,
Caressed the concrete and the mud,
Destructive as a rising tide;
What once lay here now rests but there,
Some things that were now are nowhere

And to this chaos, casts my eye,
To see the dust and debris strewn;
I look to where the bodies lie
Like shadows cast beneath the moon;
What did the hour of time perceive?
Would that I could traverse its weave

And follow thence unto a strand
That holds within the truth I seek,
And with enlightenment in hand
Then of that truth I'd gladly speak,
But I am mute, for all I see
Is washed-out dust and cleansed debris

You gave them all hope
When hope was their need
You saved them from the rope
And you planted the seed
That freedom was won
That the future was theirs
All the bad times were gone
There would be no more tears

And the planes overhead
And the boots on the ground
And the guns in their hands
Made a beautiful sound
And the women they cried
And their children ran free
And their men were alive
And life was as it should be

The years long dragged on
And the naysayers said
And the green men agreed
With a nod of their head
The future was signed
With a flick of a wrist
And one last hope resigned
And was lost in the mist

And the planes overhead
Took the boots from the ground
As the guns in their hands
Made a terrible sound
And the women they cried
For their children to be free
For their men to be alive
For life to be as it had been

And the women they cried
For their children to be free
For their men to be alive
For life to be as it had been

Oh sleeping beauty, whence thine prince
To kiss thee from thy sodden dreams?
One hundred years and two score since
Thy last farewell -- Who now redeems
This world awash for loss of thee?
Who now shall stand thine shining knight
To guard thee for eternity
And bring thee safe to heaven's height?

Oh sleep well beauty, flaxen maid,
With lavender laced in thine hair,
No earthly sin to be repaid,
Awash with frailty, love and prayer --
Oh sleep well beauty, pure and chaste,
Undying maiden, casket lass,
And watch the world pass by in haste
As thou do rest beneath thy glass.

One hundred and seventy six
Were murdered within a few ticks —
Now to hide from a war,
We’ll pretend we’re quite sure,
Their missile was launched just for kicks

All things must have a counterweight;
Each Yin, a Yang; each soul, a mate;
An arbitrator to the form,
A becalmed eye to quell the storm —

And LOVE! Oh LOVE!  You too shall find
That you and GRIEF are kin combined;
That one comes not without its twin,
For one to end, one must begin —

And so poor mortals face this plight:
To love AND grieve, or flee the fight?
For LOVE may be the greatest pleasure,
But LOVE and GRIEF are no half-measure.

Distangle fangle from the yore
To ken the roots of yon afore
And see whereof they tread

A roguish minstrel, cowlish clad,
With spritish garb, a-prancin’ mad,
Bridged east the river bed

He came a prancin’ oh did he,
As like the wind with a fiddle-dee-dee,
As like as like a clown

He waltzed and hopped and twirled about
Whilst passing through the old redoubt
Unto the midst of town

Children flocked to hark his air
Resounding from the market square
Pervading every nook

They waltzed and hopped and twirled about
From all around the old redoubt
To chance a better look

He shimmied left, he darted right,
And marveled at the wondrous sight
As wee ones danced along

He raised his pipe, began to play,
And all about began to sway
Enchanted by his song

“Come hey, come hence, come fiddle-dee-dee!”
His call was as the roiling sea
That pilfers from the dunes

Now with his ducklings all-in-tow,
He swift bridged west the river’s flow
Beguiling with his tunes

Applied the minstrel to his pipe
And nary tot nor guttersnipe
Were wont to be unled

The wee ones went unto his tune
That vexed the waning heart of June
And to the mountain fed

And all of them are dead

I saw a shadow, short at first,
And growing like an endless thirst
It snaked along across the ground,
It stirred no earth nor made no sound

And looking up towards the sun,
Observer of our world's dismay,
I saw an obelisk begun
To flee its orbit of decay

It raced on down like sleet and ice,
A keen and freshly sharpened knife,
It slashed the wind and roared aloud
As through the air it drove and ploughed

And fixed its glare upon one spot,
A small and meagre barren plot,
Where formed a shadow, small at first,
But growing like an endless thirst

Until the two became as one,
Where children played upon the floor,
And dust arose to block the sun,
Those children gone forever more