beyond this world of make-believe -
far above this world of sorrow -
where the hearts of grown men grieve
blind to see the hope of morrow

in green plains, in the meadow
where the rivers four do meet
where the sun shines, source of shadow,
drenching yellow fields of wheat

there i met my true beloved
saw him with the eyes that see
saw him bless a world corroded
bless a race that's lost at sea

and there i stumbled 'pon the sighing
'pon the tears that bitter be
salty tears of his crying
flowing to a deep blue sea

there they mingled and embraced
with the tears of the dying,
the faults of man, of souls debased,
souls of men that lost hope trying.

kissed those tears that bitter be,
became as one in bluest sea,
carried those souls in his embrace,
carried those souls to highest place

to the palace of Messiah
soared distillate of pariah
turned from darker than the night
sweetened to the brightest light

as the essence of omnipresent
turned the bitterness evanescent
turned the bitterness opalescent
the shine of sun in moon-like crescent

he doff'd his cap, all suave and urbane,
i am the idol you serve in vain,
i am the recognition of people around,
ephemeral honour to which you are bound,
as you can see i'm nothing but air
it's all in your mind. I'm not really there.

Paucity of light
causes spirit's yearn
to exit dark of night
to feel that spirit return

and when at last he makes connection
he knows that his prostration
is one with the benign Creator,
the Worshipped with prostrator

[when at last you make connection
know that your prostration
is one with the benign Creator,
the Worshipped with prostrator]

For creation is not adventitious,
coming from another source,
Creator is not capricious,
tumultuous immortal force

when all the world exasperates,
when all around seems lost,
remember your congenial state
with the One Who dwells aloft.

for all else is shadow
of the shining light
that shines eternal glow
within eternal night.

Horris:
When I was a lad I started a term
As junior clerk to a consultancy firm
But after four days, could work no more
So when no-one looked, I skipped to the door.

Chorus:
When no-one looked, he skipped to the door.

Horris:
I skipped that day with a step so free
That now I am Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
He skipped that day with a step so free
That now he is Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
Through high connections of my family
I was given the post o' graduate trainee.
I wrote an article inventing a quote
And attributed it in earnest to a historian of note.

Chorus:
He attributed it in earnest to a historian of note.

Horris:
I lied so well, they rewarded me,
That now I am Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
He lied so well, they rewarded he,
That now he is the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
In being such a *** I made such a name
That a leading writer I soon became;
I wore scuffed collars and a hand-me-down suit
For the pass examination at the Institute.

Chorus:
For the pass examination at the Institute.

Horris:
That pass examination did so well for me,
That now I'm Prime Minister of this country!

Chorus:
That pass examination did so well for he,
That now he is Prime Minister of this country!

Horris:
Of journalism I acquired such a grip
That they took me into the partnership.
I used expletives when i got angry
And was accused of racism 'n bigotry

Chorus:
He was accused of racism 'n bigotry.

Horris:
But that kind of tree so suited me,
That now I am the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Chorus:
That kind of tree so suited he,
That now he's the Head of the Queen's Ministry!

Horris:
I grew so rich that I was bent
to become a member of Parliament.
I was always schmoozing for my party's call,
And never thought of thinking for myself at all.

Chorus:
He never thought of thinking for himself at all.

Horris:
I thought so little, they rewarded me
By making me Head of the Conservative Party!

Chorus:
He thought so little, they rewarded he
By making him Head of the Conservative Party!

Horris:
Now young and old, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise to the top of the tree,
[If your soul isn't fettered to keeping to the facts,
'N you're prepared to engage in questionable acts,]
If you've got few morals and can always keep your cool.
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

Chorus:
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

Horris:
Just ride roughshod over all 'n sundry,
And you all may be Heads of the Queen's Tories!

Chorus:
Just ride roughshod over all 'n sundry,
And you all may be Heads of the Queen's Tories!

soul sings,
soars cerulean skies
searching, seeking,
attaching ode of awe
to Everlasting One.

a myriad solar stars
danced on rippled river
moving, broken bars
silver of largesse Giver

leaping light in flits of fun
as arrows from archer's quiver
glancing, lancing cracked mirror
with searing rays of sun

as footsteps mine trod a-bank
a host of dew-blest drops
upon the blades as soldiers' rank
green rifles on hilltop

and thereupon, beheld did I,
a myriad suns of shining sky,
laid out scattered 'neath my feet,
laughing, dancing, notes on sheet,

safron heads with garlands gold
as spokes of wheel, of chariots old,
lemon-yellow and amber blond,
plates on stem as juggler's wand

scarce a week of nights gone by
and in same field did I spy
in place of golden suns of sky
a myriad moons, with heads held high

and from the ivory spheres of pearl,
as wafts of breath did cause to swirl,
a newfound life of newborn soul,
as sparks divinity from the Whole

for though the sun gives life untold
honey'd nectar and heat from cold,
the seed of future is in moon's hand,
as fairies 'light upon the sand

Said nettle to butterfly, 'welcome back!'
'i remember you when you were black,
bushy and wrinkled, fat and hairy!
hardly a month since last you fed on me!'

'bushy and fat? don't be ridiculous!'
snorted Painted Lady of colouring meticulous,
'but what can one expect of insolence infamous,
just like your hairs, pointy and venomous!'

'don't be so hoity, my young lady',
hummed Urtica dioica, 'I'm not so shady',
'you, on the other hand, have changed your look,
you're like a chameleon or shifty crook!'

'Don't nettle me', said m'lady blushing,
'i'll not be accused of guile or bluffing,
it's you that ought to be of yerself ashamed,
hiding burning-needles in hairs untamed!'

'Each to their own', shrugged the burn-****,
'Don't ask anyone to touch me Harris tweed,
but i'm here for you, to meet your need,
i give you food, I help you breed'.

The butterfly appeared though not to hear,
Engrossed with the nettle's front 'n rear,
Her abdomen bent, spiracles as bow,
She laid her young children, her seed to grow.

'It's not too late, my little young'un,
a little courtesy and manners to learn,
be nice to he who gives you good turn,
'cos it's your eggs i do discern

on underside of my green leaves,
the least you can do is say "how d'you do"',
but butterfly had gone, as succulent beeves
to little brown wren, in beak as he flew.

everyone has devils
some hide them better
it's our job to channel evils
'n thereby make them lesser

think not to restrain that urge
to bind with shackle and fetter,
don't expect to purge
the malevolent abetter

show him a way forward
lift your sights higher
together swim shoreward
toward that spiritual fire

you want to die?
don't ask yourself why,
ask how to use the feeling
to give yourself a high

seek out that inner aspiration
find the glint in mud,
award yourself gratulation
for all your sweat and blood

as you work on what matters
focuse on the prize
and if your spirit shatters
from thence shall you rise

for from dark earth emerges seedling
from black coal the brightest diamond
decay 'n rot shall be your healing
in your swim to distant island

dissect the flower, analyse its beauty
listen for heartbeat of soul,
they quash the essence through academic duty
and say they've reached their goal

spirit's illusion, it cannot be,
it shows not up on graph or tree
beauty, a fantasy, ape-evolution,
guilt and merit, states of confusion

and so they educate their world-leaders
their politicians and news-readers
their children and their teachers
church-goers and their preachers

the world's an accident, matter of opinion,
as is the lollygagging of cryptic religion,
then they're surprised, feign outrage
as world fills with killing, **** 'n rampage

the dusk chorus
sing for us
ivory keys
on twigs of trees

heralding
the oncoming
silver ring
of night-time king,

in his velvet robe of black
diamond studded, crystal'd lac,
ere he enters life's arena
they sing the song of ballerina

how she lost the love she yearned for
how she pined, and longed, and burned for,
how she found her sweetheart courter,
how she fell in arms of lover

and as the satin sheet was laid
she lay down beneath his shade,
closed her eyes as love betray'd
secrets of her true knight's blade

adamantine as rock of star,
inflammable with fire bizarre,
soft in ear whispered endearment
as perfection reached fulfilment

then, phoenix from the embers,
slow she rose up as eternal,
as immortal soul remembers
birth of life from youthful kernel

for forever now she'll sing
the notes that form her truelove king
the music of the morning's morn
as new life and breath is born

sliding down the gutter
sparkling pearl of rain
faster than camera shutter
its flowing down the drain

lost forever drop of blood
once as pure as snow
now intermingles with the mud
with iridescent glow

hermit, stranger, hides his face
in his mother's apron,
spirit, soul, of nameless grace
other-worldly patron

boots composed deriding eyes
trample overhead
and inner spirit withers, dies,
and now is lying dead

defenestration of all that's good
by world blacker than pitch
tainted saint of boyhood
lies defenceless in the ditch

He bent over
The shadow in grey
Kissed the lips
Of life away

Eyes, closed buds,
Ne'er more to open,
Veins of blood
Weary and broken.

Spirit released
From skeletal prison,
Body deceased,
Soul arisen.

Flowers of light,
Music immortal,
Embrace a child
Unto God's portal.

He dipped a pen into the ink
and let the letters flow
like running a finger down a mink
forming blackbirds in the snow
the liquid flowed in courses deep
betwixt the fibrous path
on either side an ivory heap
as plaster 'tween the lath

the letters had a life their own
glinting in the sun
as shiny beads or poppy seeds
sprinkled on iced bun
and then, as corn, newly sown
choreographed as one
the letters marched, in unison,
as soldiers with a gun

each distinct, they swayed together
as wing compos'd of feather
the harmony of black and white
milk stars on velvet night,
and then, just when, all was right,
they vanished all together,
as all at once, they took to flight
and flew into the ether.

and now, each night, when all is still,
they visit me in my dreams,
those raven-black letters of quill
dance wisdom in moonlight streams
as homing pigeons coming to roost
coo mysteries in the dew
as prancing horses newly hoofed
flashing waves of sea-green hue,

and as young maid new seduced
'neath heavens of sky-blue
where rainbow colours introduce
soft butterflies flying through,
wherein conception, zen-induced,
old friends appear as new
i lend my ear to hear produced
their music i once knew

when pen in hand i sought to spill
the secrets hidden 'n true
of why the very highest hill
is home to lowly shrew
and why from ash beneath the grill
a phoenix wakes anew
and why the soul allows its will
to bivouac in corpse shoe.

i spied Time a long way off
bent and stooped on wooden staff
his beard too long for me to see
a figure on skyline boundary

i shouted to him at top o' my voice
but never dreamt he'd hear
it seemed i really had no choice
but travel through the years

the years they took their toll on me
the pain, the hurt, the misery,
but when i bent my head to bear
i felt no injury

at times like that i felt the joy
unspoilt timeless eternity
in that moment to enjoy
lack of personal enmity

as time stood still, beyond this world,
a taste of time to come,
then i'd forget that old man knurled
over staff o' mourning hum

but recently he seems much closer
not so nearly stooped or bent
could it be i'm getting older
approaching that wondrous event?

he winks to me and smiles assent
his beard flowing in the winds
patiently, he waits advent
o' when he'll grant me my wings.

he doffs his cap and waves to me
allowing me to see
the path i've trod, the misery
was all so necessary

500 or 504
"an error - we'll fix it asap"
well, i've stopped keeping score
of the ineptness of this app

"Uh oh, we encountered an error
making this page for you.
We've been notified of this terror
and we'll make it up to you"

"we'll wire you $100
for every minute you've wasted
for the anguish and the hollers
and the powerlessness you've tasted."

"we know how awful it is
to loose your work in a second,
the hard work, sweat and tears
when it's all computed 'n reckoned."

"We're sure £10,000 won't go amiss,
we've sent it to your account,
sorry we were disastrously remiss -
we hope you'll accept that amount."

Reality, my friends, can daunt,
so i shall daydream all i want
though i'd sooner be piggybacking a leviathan fish
i may still fantasise and wish!

i saw their edifices, beautiful structures,
and gave a sigh of despair,
i'll never be able to manufacture
monuments of such flair

i felt a tap, tug on my sleeve
looked down on wizened man
said he, asmile, 'please believe
your skill to do what you can.'

'each day a brick you can lay
upon the ****** ground,
with dedication, day-by-day,
you'll have built compound'

'a base to build higher still,
one brick at a time,
until there rises upon the hill
a place you can call heim.'

'an edifice of your making
of which you can be proud
an edifice that's breathtaking,
soul-deep and soul-profound.'

once upon a time there was a world
with smells and colours and sound
people would watch how roses unfurled
watch the blackbirds pecking the ground

there was sweet silence within the quiet
a place where angels and fairies could dwell
plenty of space for colour to riot,
forget-me-not with the bluebell

there were greens of the spring, gold of the summer,
orange-browns that made the heart sing,
fluttering of birds in wake of newcomer,
swallows and swifts circling on wing

it was a world where the people cared,
heard the heartbeat of mother-nature,
no place for kitschy pop-posts shared
incessant interruptions as leaf's crenature

the so-called prosaic had depth and music
we weren't so clever but men were still true
we lived in harmony with world's acoustic,
before we sloughed the soul's inner view

once there was a world where people connected
not on the screen but in their souls,
where the inner voice was always respected,
people in tune with their inner goals.

i pray and hope we'll still be able
to pass this on to the next generation
else a world, tottering, unstable,
has orchestrated its own cessation

Life recedes, unbidden,
into the shadow,
depths, dark and hidden,
start of embryo

the earth is breathing
suppressed desire,
the enigma of living
the hidden fire

Up to Mighty One he came
Inspired man one day
Laid his supplications fore
The One Who holds all sway

Singing songs o' Divine Lily
Stranded in love-affair
'til he got excited and
he shouted into the air:

It's a long way to G-d's Prairie
It's a long long way to go.
It's a long way to G-d's Prairie
To the Sweetest One I know!

Ascend Divine Lily,
Express your love so fair!
It's a long long way to G-d's Prairie
But my heart's right there.

It's a long way to G-d's Prairie
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to G-d's Prairie
To the sweetest One I know!

Ascend Divine Lily,
Express your love so fair!
It's a long long way to G-d's Prairie
But my heart's right there.

there once was a time,
before your time,
when men were gentlemanly
and the ****** was celibacy

the air was purer
and if we were poorer
our lives were satiated
[with] meaning that radiated

quondam royals had mystique,
your wife was yours and was unique.
i often wonder what went wrong
but it's been too dark for much too long.

when first i peeked from the ground,
clothed and swathed in viridescence
chlorophyll succulence all around
reflecting sunlight's iridescence

as ballerina's pirouette
as ice skater's loop and twirl
as fiery sphere in dark sunset
as spinning top's whirl 'n swirl

as emanating baby's head
as spirit rising from the dead
as crystal gem in golden set
as sacred dome of white lunette

i emerged with head clasped tight
with green fingers as stalagmite
loom'd from earth in silver wonder
as lightening strikes in silent thunder

as sun bequeaths its golden treasure
as peacock sprays its blue-green feathers,
I shyly let my flower grow,
my lemon crown, with spokes that flow

shameless as a clown's false grin,
painted crimson on plaster'd chin,
sparkling like a whiskied gin
'fore the room starts to spin

swaying in the woodland breeze,
amongst green rifles set at ease,
move in unison as waves of seas,
as strokes of paint on artist's frieze

then, one night, as i lay still,
beheld a change in moonlight chill,
as halcyon petals withered and died
white fibres midday opened wide

crystal spheres of ghost alabaster
speckled as sugar and salt in caster,
of pearl 'n ivory, ball o' moonstone,
as pail of milk, as polished bone

clocks of flying feathers and fluff,
fairies' parachutes, children's puff,
seed in seat of air balloon,
to plant in dune my nature's boon

sometimes i yearn to sing with the stars
to be one with Jupiter, Venus 'n Mars
to scale the heavens, make my voice heard,
to soar ever upwards, on feathers of bird,
to join in the song of orange-tipped rays
that shine over Earth at start of new days
to bathe in the light of Eternal's blue gown
and sew for Him words He can wear as a crown

and at once i am there, in the heavens above,
in the waves and the currents of outpour of love,
dancing among stars of burning white fire
circling with angels of purest desire
the existence of self dissolved in the ether
the soul's divine rest with the Earth far beneath her
spirit at rest in the ***** of Source
in loving embrace of benevolent Force
Mind of the Father and Womb of the Mother,
Arms of my Friend, breath of my Lover

there i forget all the pain and the sorrow
the worry, the fear, the concern of the morrow,
i forget to beseech, to implore and to pray
to scream and to shout, to beg and to say
"Make the world better, that man and beast
not prey on each other, on their downfall not feast,
that each live in harmony as sister and brother
with regard and care and concern for the other,
that there be an end to the senseless warfare,
that breeds on pride, that sows despair,"
To plead, "put a kibosh on the metal annihilator,
the blaster, the bomb, the knife of executioner,
that seeds of pure kindness should sprout and proliferate
heal minds of the mindless and hearts of the ingrates."

i forget to pray, to roar "it's enough!
all the death, all the sickness, all the hurt thereof",
for there in heaven there is only love
there's no mention of pain in the heavens above.

he had the wherewithal and the madness
held West to the wall
exploded ultimate bomb of sadness
laughed at country's fall
there was cough, there was splutter
in the corridors of democracy
there was slight embarrassed stutter
as they crumbled 'fore monocracy
as they waved white flag in flutter
wrung their hands before the violence
as they washed the ash down gutter.
as they kept their pledge of silence

plant a tree too close to others
its growth is stifled, development smothered,
it'll wax scrawny, tall and lank,
needing its neighbours to cling to the bank

its roots cannot spread,
its branches are muted,
without anchor or head
smallest gale can uproot it

plant a tree without support
it'll grow awkward, twisted and gaunt,
plant a tree without protection,
it'll be trampled or plagued by infection

but plant a tree with space all round
with support and guidance, staked to the ground,
it''ll grow proud with full formation,
a shelter for humans and bird habitation

tie a horse to cart or hearse
without bit or bridle, reins or headpiece
it''ll run amok, out of control,
subject to whim, race, gallop or stroll.

tie a horse too tight to carriage,
whip with crop without fear of carnage,
it'll suffocate, unable to breathe,
or bristle and flare, simmer and seethe.

but tie with care, treat with sensitivity
it'll reward you with years of activity
it'll enjoy its ride with you
a friend 'n ally till its adieu

smother a child with rules and restrictions
it'll develop maladies and evil addictions,
or else be forever unable to speak,
individuality suppressed, character weak.

treat it with abandon and over-laxity,
it'll never understand the meaning of chastity,
capricious and fickle, as ship without rudder,
there'll be crime 'n disgrace to make Bluebeard shudder

cram the child into class of peers,
without room to breathe, develop in years,
it''ll mature narrow, petty and limited,
easily broken or slanted 'n bigoted.

but guide it with love, with room to develop,
surround it with friends but not to envelop,
show it firmness while broadening horizons
a free spirit with integrity 'twill be till it wizens

it started like any other
a day in a month in a year
i waved good-bye to my brother
mother held back a tear
with pack on my back
i boarded the train
all set to track
a rougher terrain
to mountains alive
with celestial music
a buzzing hive
of quiet acoustic
in wood and in glade
every grass, every blade,
all light 'n shade,
matter calcic and humic,
buttons o' G-d's tunic
shining pure gold
the ancient, the old,
a bastion of peace
from avenging ire
from man's caprice
from world on fire
from lust for success
in G-d's largesse
heavenly blest
no greed or excess
no rush for progress
in milieu of emeralds
no nascent dictator
no destroyer of worlds
no human-life baiter
but midst the Eden
lay archetypal snake
interspersed with reason
bred on heartache
a venomous tooth
foxy and furtive
language uncouth
aggression assertive
coiled at bend
ready to unwend
the henchman at crossroad
waiting at gate
with poisonous goad
and age-old hate
overused trope
from mouth void o' hope
arguments specious
ostensibly sound
gaining impetus
as he held his ground
polluting, plundering
the sweet mountain air
innocence encumbering
with insidious fare
till he'd decimated
the Garden of Eden
it subjugated
to blood of the demon
and G-d had grown wings
had flown far away
the Ancient King
now waits for new day.

as the waves of the sea
hitting wharf rhythmically
as the suckling of the babe
past midnight hour on astrolabe
is the cooing of the dove
in the silence of alcove

like the call of the cuckoo
as sweet spring breaks forth anew
as the hoot of tawny owl
'midst the canine's nightly howl
is the cooing of the dove
in the silence of alcove

as an angel drawing near
whispering secrets in my ear
as the mysteries of world beyond
juxtaposed to burning pond
is the cooing of my dove
in the silence of alcove

i see a world through my eyes
i hear it through my ears
is that the world you see too
or d'you have different fears?

why do i never stop to think
how others truly feel
why does our ego us hoodwink
to believe just our world is real

i like it when i hear my name
i can give others that pleasure too
that little buzz akin to fame
'coz you're important to you

if i open a door to others' feelings
how much richer my world might be
why am i frightened from revealing
my world's not a sole reality

Each person's a complete universe
with light 'n shade, blessing 'n curse,
his world might be entirely diverse
to the ambience in which i immerse

if seven colours make a rainbow
what iridescence, what beautiful glow
must myriad realities together show,
G-d's divine Glory, above 'n below.

Covid 19 they called it,
Coronavirus' latest hit,
Through air 'n breath contracted,
Through touch 'n cough, sneeze 'n spit.

The plague it swept humanity
Plucked sweet lives of too many,
And suddenly, respite for yee,
Approved vaccines to keep us healthy.

They flashed the headlines with its news,
It beat Trump's company out the pews,
But then the naysayers proclaimed their views,
"It'll **** you; it's a public ruse!".

"It'll change your DNA", they said,
"Bill Gates is out to make you dead",
They came fast, those prophets of dread,
On social sites and media threads.

I heard it from son's father-in-law,
I heard it in the streets galore,
I heard it in God's Name swore,
In chemist-shop and grocery store.

Was it coincidence that the majority
Of those cynics said no to authority,
Disagreed with statistic, with facts in their face,
With death that had decimated the human race?

Might it be that the deniers
Were the real death-suppliers
They that spread the false fires
With their rumours and coloured flyers?

So I went online and booked my appointment
For a jab by the NHS and a dab with ointment,
I'll roll up my sleeve, I'll savour the moment,
I've made my decision, I'll have my enjoyment.

And with the injection, I'll fight disappointment
The confusion sown, the anxiety poignant,
I'll do my bit with the needle's deployment,
It's the ayes that have it, not your street-clairvoyant.

there is a light
that shines bright
like the moon in the night

always sealed,
never revealed,
scion of yon Elysian Field

shunning eyes that peer unbidden
to light of soul, always hidden
beneath the scars that life has stricken

a light brilliant because never shown
a light that's hewed from 'neath G-d's Throne
a light burning brightly on its own

so when you see an 'ordinary' guy,
inside shine million suns of sky,
secreted in corporal shrine from on high

whether you know it or not
you've hit the jackpot
just by being alive.

As my legs brushed the bulrush,
As my hairs bristled fibres,
Long and slender brushed they by me,
As I traversed the golden whiteness,
As I crunched the golden snow,
Glistening, shining, in the spring sun,
As the maiden in her bride-gown,
As the delicate, trailing mayflower,
Sparkling white on the prairie,
Vellum soft 'neath scribe's beard,
Flowing like the ocean river,
Speckled grey as starlight clusters,
As the feathers of the starlings,
As the grey of children starving,
There he stoked the strokes of blackness,
Stroking, drawing, marking, scribing,
Drawing dells of deepest darkness,
Marking summits of sweet sharpness,
'Midst the valleys of butter-yellow,
Midst the velvet, whispering whiteness,
Midst the plains of swaying wheat-corn,
Coursed those rivers of ink-black starkness,
Dark as the midnight in icy winter,
Dark as the secrets of youngest maiden,
Dark as the cravings of inner madness,
Black as the heart of yellow sunflowers,
Black as the eyes of hater's glower,
I, the housefly, witnessed these secrets,
With my eyes composed of myriads,
With my senses known to no-one,
With my tender tip-toe foot-pads,
As I tread the path of no-man,
As I licked those tender fibres,
As I dallied 'neath the scriber,
As I fled my pad of scribes,
As I circled the ocean tides.

beware the affable smile and charm
the silken manners and finesse
for oft-times snake that seeks to harm
will in finery dress

You are G-d's portal
His light uncurl'd
Through mere mortal
He encounters the world

Vegetable 'n mineral are His vibration
Insect and beast His animation
but it's conscious man, zenith o' creation,
that links time 'n place with Realisation

your interaction, base or gold,
lifts the cosmos to worlds untold
or drowns His Spark in mould and canker,
pulling worlds down, hook, line 'n sinker.

so when next a choice presents to you,
to cleave to light or cleave to gloom
whether to heed soul's faint quiet call
or succumb to daemon's ignominious maul

remember this, it's not just you,
it's G-d Himself in what you do,
and ship you sail has many a rider
who'll be affected by your decider

the light you light will kindle hordes
of souls and sparks to reap rewards
its effect is hidden and unseen
it can alter more than you dream

the hole you bore is not just for you
it can sink ship and passengers too.
so though each person is a universe
each connects with all, for good or for worse

when blood is cheap
is it time to weep?

when animals matter more
is it time to keep score?

when police abuse
do we watch more news?

as rivers run purple with human blood
earth saturated with pain
skies run scarlet as lava flood
sweeps life 'n limb down the drain

Covid and war
who's keeping score?
what will come next?
send me a text

More than the ripple of a thousand tears
More than the cries of a thousand years
More than oceans of anguish and pain
Of cruciation and torture inhumane
Is the music of the spheres
When G-d draws near His bairn

in a crevice of the earth
beats a heart
like a newborn babe at birth
at the start
as new life emits a gurgle
and a cry
prepares to jump the hurdle
or to die

so the snowdrop lifts its sleepy head
from beneath its snowy spread
a revival from the dead
at the edge of flower-bed

its flash of white
like moon in night
augurs sight
of colours bright

as Artist starts anew
His canvas set and true
no imprecise slapdash
or impotence 'n backlash

for here He blends true harmony
the plant, the flower, the bird, the tree,
and all combine and music sing
in herald of [the] season spring.

Crinkled leaves tell a tale
Of attack of aphid bug
As their honeydew leads a trail
Of ants to feed upon their drug

The curled foliage a dilemma
the quandary of a bind
presents itself as their gemma
is ravished 'n slowly mined

as all their sap, their life juices,
feed blackfly while unaware
of their damage and abuses
'midst symbiotic love-affair

Now do i quash the bugs whilst feeding
squash 'em 'twixt my thumb 'n finger
stop the pests from further breeding
or do i let them live and linger

Why should i have more ruth 'n mercy
on the senseless vegetation
are the greenfly more unworthy
that i be cause of their cessation

Why should I be a feared colleague
of grim-reaper in his quest
my act proclaim i am in league
with unwelcome saturnine guest?

Melancholia!
there's magic in the word
like 'male-genitalia',
each syllable unslurred

and the term itself
what images it conjures!
as a mischievous elf
intent on misadventures

with a black, sticky net
'gainst crimson sunset
with sad secrets scary
to capture the unwary

on his face a grin
as he bows to you low,
"howdy, please step right in"
and oblivious, you go.

and then you are caught
as he draws the string tight
as you struggle for naught
as the day becomes night

as all outside becomes blurred
all syllables slurred
everything of one colour,
a dark, deathlike pallor

and then there's the sinking
as you can't stop the thinking
like repetitive gramophone
with monotonous undertone
over and over
it draws you in further,

to no appetite
complete lack of enjoyment,
to no respite
through own self-employment

feeling culpable
for nothing at all,
feel unlovable
as you stare at blank wall.

Melancholia.
What a beautiful word.