at the dockside

we go to meet

the losing side

nowhere to hide

the river’s fleet

 

time has in tow

all our desire

so tell the choir

how much you know

 

out from the port

no ship departs

the while our hearts

each hope distorts

 

choices are made

visions described

policemen bribed

that is the trade

 

so when we learn

just how to speak

in the antique

manner you yearn

 

to see us grasp

all of your pride

held well inside

falls from your grasp

 

what is said true

within these walls

nobody calls

honest or new

 

nothing but old

rumours and lies

that we despise

pass here for gold

villanelle for emancipation day

free folk who turn their backs on the sweet cane

for bitter striving on the mountainside

don’t count hard labour now as any pain

since now there is good reason to hold strain

while men on horseback dare not shout nor chide

free folk who turn their backs on the sweet cane

whose feet are moving uphill from the plain

towards the places where they used to hide

don’t count hard labour now as any pain

when it’s all yours when none of it’s in vain

as hopes are reached and none of them denied

free folk who turn their backs on the sweet cane

have seas to cross and great dreams to attain

their inner voices have made them decide

don’t count hard labour now as any pain

they will not fall back to bondage again

but face the world with proper joy and pride

free folk who turn their backs on the sweet cane

don’t count hard labour now as any pain

what is surrendered

move forward and you come back to the past

you give up peace and friendship at the start

but still the monster won’t let you depart

anguish alone must hold on to the last

love smiles but all its moments go too fast

and hope is faster here than any dart

anger and rage will rot the normal heart

while hatred journeys before every mast

time is no cure nor change of sun to rain

nor is the amaranth a source of steel

though each magician turns out just a liar

we turn to them to ease the steady pain

produced each day by turning of the wheel

knowing full well we can’t avoid the fire

time changing

now stars go missing in the summer sky

while stub-tailed comet promises dire days

no cloud will come to temper the hard blaze

of unforgiving sunrise when the eye

notes every droop and watches as the dry

heart of the kingdom stands revealed the praise

goes far from us to those who would amaze

both child and elder with some easy lie

life changes fast and the urgent voices

that might report the meaning of each tale

fall silent as we have to hurry forth

to new devotions to human choices

anger behind us so that we won’t fail

and faces set towards a truer north

as for the rain

enough that yesterdays beyond recount

involved the passage of so many turns

nobody listened to a child’s concerns

nor waited long for the adult account

since it was plainly duty to surmount

such little things as every child soon learns

it does not matter soon the forest burns

and not so high will any ashes mount

no obligation seemed so very great

that meeting it did not require our hearts

to open out as sigils of this pain

but this is something born purely of fate

which cannot be avoided by our arts

so we stand here and wait as for the rain

on the black road

we catch the crabs at night on the black road

just shovel them into the waiting bag

until the sweat pools and your spirits flag

 

above the stars signal in arcane code

while you wipe down with an old smelly rag

we catch the crabs at night on the black road

 

that leads us back to where the waters flowed

past all the places where we let hope sag

back into swamp where memories might nag

we catch the crabs at night on the black road

in this gentle rain

you miss the vision in this gentle rain

of what was needed by the hungry soul

since no one here is in their proper role

 

nor is the story ever truly plain

for none of us could ever reach the goal

you miss the vision in this gentle rain

 

of cities built upon an ancient pain

and of the sweetness that they could control

but neither salt nor sugar can console

you miss the vision in this gentle rain

that reaching finger

what has been lost in that one languid scene

that moves the western soul so we’ve been told

as much as oil and far far more than gold

is any sense of what else might have been

before the truth that nothing was serene

what seemed the warmest turned out dull and cold

the wildest moment most tightly controlled

nothing what what we thought it had to mean

the object found was other than the sought

a glimpse of hope en route to where truth fell

before the onslaught of the shining lies

right where the innocent young fools were caught

believing to the last this was not hell

and what they saw were the redeeming skies

a bangup old time

there are no boundaries in human time

we may not cross or otherwise respect

unless as you or other fool direct

since we are bound to creep out of the slime

ignore the sweetness of most daring crime

and only take those goods the herds reject

choosing to be in sombre tones bedecked

for only silence tastes of the sublime

gold alone rules whatever may be law

in heavy book that we know to be fact

in this reality we have not made

when what seems best is just another flaw

and no one ever will come through intact

we have no choice except slowly to fade

Republican Parties

For Sanford, or Ensign, or Vitter,

Whose political hopes seemed to glitter

The chasing of tail

(An objective so male)

Sent their presidential hopes down the shitter.

 

Now Newt used the word with an arr,

Didn’t care he was going too far,

He seemed to forget,

To his own regret,

No wagon was hitched to his star.

 

So Cheney he came out so quick

To wield the proverbial stick;

So ready to pounce,

And even denounce;

But everyone thought him a Dick.