there he lay
at bottom of pit
eating hay
combined with spit

said i to he
"what did you do
for this cruel fate
to be meted you?"

"i was cerebral,"
he grunted back
"i had no heart
for those who lack"

i lived my life
engrossed in brain
no time for strife
for others' bane

it seems in heaven
they want the heart
so hay i'm given
like horse o' cart

i'm being shown
i was just like a steed
cos i never owned
one heartfelt deed

They said he'd stop his lying,
they'd be wary of his deceit,
no longer would he'd be flying
by his party's pants' plush seat.

no more would he transmogrify
the figures and dry fact,
no more the wink and smile sly
buffoon and circus act

he'd abide by their critique
while changing his technique,
his approach would be bespoke,
never again his promises broke

so they'd have you all believe
their gargantuan claims
lips honeyed 'n cloying thieve
as his lackeys play his game

Does a leopard change his spots?
Or a dalmatian his black dots?
Have you ever seen pigs fly?
Is the moon a custard pie?

Does Winter follow Spring?
Can the tone-deaf learn to sing?
Can one run before one walks?
Ask a question before one talks?

Does the sun shine at night
Or the moon midst bright sunlight?
Can we move back in time?
Ascend Everest without a climb?

With some, deceit is nature,
their hyperbole and big talk,
in their spiel o' legislature,
in their manner and their walk

and as they breathe their last in dying,
as they writhe and grasp the nebula,
they'll be holding firm to lying,
till stone[d] silent in their sepulchre.

And as they ride their spirit's back
still they'll be the same ol' hack,
till at last they will atone
the public's groan and broken bone.

a passel of lies
edifies the smogs
as pie in the skies
clogs up the cogs

as mogul eyes
gilt catalogue
thin disguise
to noxious bog

smothers the cries
of pauper who slogs
poor man who dies
just another log

i stood in the light
enveloped in grace
i felt the invite
the smile on His Face.

I felt waves of love
bigger than oceans
I felt Him from above
the heavens were open

i asked Him why
O Dweller on High
Whole Love fills all
Spring Winter and Fall

Why the pandemic
the virus systemic?
is disease now endemic?
worldwide health academic?

He answered in kind
spoke to my mind
revealed in vision
clarity given

for a second, no more
He opened the door,
but to describe what i saw
the love and the awe
would take more time,
so bide here a while
to hear this rhyme
in measured style

He showed me the love
Pouring, Unending,
Below and above
Rearing and tending

He showed me the source,
river o' life 'n being
golden waters on course,
fount of hearing 'n seeing.

Light indescribable,
A thousand times sunrise,
Of beauty undeniable,
Delicate as butterflies.

As fritillaries in a meadow,
As white, shining snow,
As the kingfisher blue
As a baby's fresh hue

And more than i've spoken
was the love that i saw
more than the oceans
the One I adore

Yet within that love
He showed me too
the cause of disease
and i'll share that with you

The awful malady
Had come from within
the source of tragedy
was inner ruin

The vaccine He told me
Was plaster and band-aid
Love though He hold me
Inside is decayed.

And if, so He whispered,
the cause is not address'd,
the decay will fester,
it will not rest.

Take heed humanity,
Shake off your vanity,
Open your eyes
To the Light in the skies.

i looked to the heavens
all was dark
as i shouted Your Name
heart all aflame
in the twilight of soul
when the mists hid my goal
when the snake had bitten
arisen from hidden
lair
soft dropped my tears
and salvaged my soul
swept away years
as i found again goal
as i grabbed that snake
by its tail as bidden
to become staff in my hand
to walk in Your Land
with You
before me
always

the celibate never married
yet had both spouse and kid
from spouse incessantly harried
till from his children hid
in dread of marriage dorm
perfunctorily duty perform'd
as allied with the grinning elf
he decried the hand he held
in that sumptuous loss of self
as the two as one did meld
he suppressed his soul vocation
in slim excuse of procreation

the well is dry
hard-baked mud
o'er buried sky
once-sacred bud

thunder rolls
bereft of rain
sighing souls
in abject pain

groaning anguish
night-time languish
panting's ceased
from bird 'n beast

senses dulled
spirit culled
save one tear
on deaf ear

the wise, clueless,
have lost their sight,
the elders viewless,
lost their bite

humanity dies
waiting for resurrection
decapitated eyes
blink dejection

i saw the willow's dripping branches
crying into the blue-black deep
its golden-yellow avalanches
falling where the monsters sleep

locks of green and silky hair
turn auburn as the dusky sky
brown and russet as the air
moist like blood b'neath battle-cry

i looked into the inky waters,
stirred them with my phantom foot,
still, dark carrion, freshly slaughtered,
murky, raven, black like soot.

all around the laughter echoes
in the places of the void
once i saw a bright green meadow,
once i saw a world destroyed.

I am the very model of a modern poet laureate,
I've information rhythmical, poetical and lexical,
I know the poets of our land and quote their plays historical,
From Macbeth to Much Ado, in order categorical;

I'm very well acquainted, too, with rhythm hendecasyllable,
I understand assonance and refrain octosyllable,
About pentameter theory I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the style of poet Edward Hughes.

I'm very good at couplets and at blank verse very fabulous;
I know the seventy-one plays ascribed to Aeschylus:
In short, in matters rhymical, poetical, and lexical,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

I know our poem-history, Caedmon's Hymn to Chaucer's works;
I can cite bards' acrostics with volatility in my vocal box,
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus,
In dialect ionic I can cite Semonides of Amorgos;

I can tell undoubted Aratus from Aristeus and Sophocles,
I know the croaking chorus from The Frogs of Aristophanes!
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore,
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore.

Then I can write a decasyllable as a dactyl or tetrameter,
And tell you ev'ry detail of soliloquies in Shakespeare:
In short, in matters rhythmical, poetical, to elloquate,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

In fact, when I know what is meant by a "septet" and a "sestet",
When I can tell at sight a literary from a prose effect,
When such affairs as odic and idyllic I'm more wary at,
And when I know precisely 'to be or not to be' by Danish "Hamlet".

When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern rhymery,
When I know more iambic than a novice in a nunnery
In short, when I'm audacious, vexatious and dilatory
You'll say a poet laureate has ne'er been so conciliatory.

For my alliteration knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century;
But still, in matters rhythmical, poetical and etiquette,
I am the very model of a modern poet laureate.

there in the deepest shadows of May,
'midst the wood and the trees and the hay,
i hear a hoot from a bird-of-prey
"Whooo?" "Who are youuu?"

midst the twilight shades of grey,
when all the light has gone away,
again, he asks, at end of day,
"Whoooo?" "Who are youuu?"

in the silence o' witching hour,
from his surveyance in woody tower
midst abeyance of earthly power,
"Whoooo?" "Who are youuu?"

And as i start a day anew
in fractious world i thought i knew
midst the frantic to-and-fro
the push, the shove, the ebb, the flow
the strain, the cries, the pain, the woe
again i hear G-d's echo,
"Whoooo?" "Who are youu?"

hair white as sheep's pure wool
clothes as white as snow
Timeless Immemorial
unwinds a cord so slow

through wormhole of space continuum
negotiates diamond drop
the ***** of Divine residuum
'gainst vacuous backstop

soft with tremour and trepidation
throbs elation of creation
unto realm of craz'd inanity
draconian place of inhumanity

enters Univocal Amity
with wraps of planets seven
to give voice to human sanity
to make earth a place of heaven

time passed by as no-one watched
none took note of passing years
till one day awoke man touched
by sweet music of the spheres

gradually the cogs move faster
breaking concrete bricks of darkness
sifting out the pure white plaster
from deep within the spiritual starkness

don't be another clothes' hook
if you see injustice, fight it

you're given contemptuous look
don't abrogate. slight it!

life's an unwritten book
don't be lazy. write it!

lest a book full of blank pages
and you a victim to passion's rages
a lick of dust flicked through the ages
never with life truly engages

what need for gold
when sunshine pours
makes heaven's abode
on lush green moors

o sweet robin, how view you the world
while flitting to and fro, brown feathers unfurled,
russet orange breast, black-currant eyed,
with quizzical look, head perked to one side,

sweet 'n staccato, your song so shrill,
melodic and tuneful, orchestral trill,
are you aware of the joy and the thrill
you add to the woods with your dark grey bill?

What mystery lies 'neath beady eyes,
thou enigma of the woods, of bicoloured hood,
what glory you be, darting 'cross skies,
unaware of all else save ma nature's good.

Evening will come, however determined the late afternoon,
Limes and oaks in their last green flush, pearled in September mist.
I have conjured a lily to light these hours, a token of thanks,
Zones and auras of soft glare framing the brilliant globes.
A promise made and kept for life - that was your gift -
Because of which, here is a gift in return, glovewort to some,
Each shining bonnet guarded by stern lance-like leaves.
The country loaded its whole self into your slender hands,
Hands that can rest, now, relieved of a century's weight.

Evening has come. Rain on the black lochs and dark Munros.
Lily of the Valley, a namesake almost, a favourite flower
Interlaced with your famous bouquets, the restrained
Zeal and forceful grace of its lanterns, each inflorescence
A silent bell disguising a singular voice. A blurred new day
Breaks uncrowned on remote peaks and public parks, and
Everything turns on these luminous petals and deep roots,
This lily that thrives between spire and tree, whose brightness
Holds and glows beyond the life and border of its bloom.

touch a person with a word
move their soul with a smile
watch their spirit soar like a bird
as a bride walking down aisle

How do we stand
before the Almighty Being,
with outstretched hand,
or standing or kneeling?

How do we lift up our eyes
before the All-seeing?
Impossible, he sighs,
But it's eminently healing.