I promise I don’t do it often but I’m doing it tonight.
Because of this!
How I’m feeling.
Go meee! Go meee!
Well, not really. Most of the work is ahead but, hey, sod it, I did the bizness. :)
Err in life to consummate its knowing,
Hello to all mistakes that guide the way,
Adieu to all perfection, we’re still growing,
I know, I’ve made and learned a few today.
To criticism, ere your learning’s over,
Debunk the myth that says that we should know,
Er, I think not, else I’d be a corpse here,
I’ll f*** up everyday so I can grow.
On it as we speak. ;)
I have no right to wonder or to wait here,
That was another life and this is now,
To warrior, I was your woman,
Our weaponry the words we did avow.
I have no right to question or to grieve still,
Through ages past and all the years to come,
By river over yonder in the valley,
I, willow, weep for days we were undone.
I had no right to put down roots, hang on to
Promises we made so long ago,
Time rushes past and it has all but stolen
The gift of you, the man I used to know.
I have no right to make this dedication,
You’re gone and I should make my peace with grief,
But here I stand as shelter for all others,
For lovers who all weep yet still believe.
so you gave a little
took a little
little was enough
love and all that stuff
little was the knowing
little were the ways
little chance to see much through
in all those little days
of lots – capacity –
from little words
He came and stole the words she loved and hated,
In his pocket, while he gathered up the souls,
Confounded, over- under- estimation,
Humans with their fatal faulted goals.
Concentrating Nazis, all those people,
Compliant, in vicissitudes, they blamed,
As Death patrolled a world of colour flaming,
Where only very few were ever named.
The nameless marched and shuffled, sockets sunken,
Scarce of bread, more scarce of liberty,
Scapegoats for moustached aspirations,
Pillar-scourged by Christ’s humanity.
Muslims now, where Jews, or maybe black folk,
Gays perhaps or aborigines,
Red-skinned, each condemned in one stroke,
Pointed fingers back at you and me.
Death patrolled and wondered while he captured
Souls before they fell, he held them tight,
Whatever had they done and why the rapture
Of others he would meet one day or night.
Munchen times, the Dachaus and the ghettoes,
Golan Heights, Great Plains, upon our streets,
Look no further for the scythe or saviour,
Everyone we meet and how we greet.
Sickle thoughts while reading and to living,
One rush of air we’re gone, he passes on,
Steals our words, our actions, as deposits
Comes and goes, collects and moves along.
Banked eternally, all of our choices,
No choice for death, he does as he is told,
A Book Thief gifts her love, compassion,
Death carries secrets all should be foretold.
How she danced upon resistance across the silken threads,
Lighter than a touch of air on downy feathered heads,
Gliding as a skater while ravelling her tales,
Doomed by pride, but reconciled, to weaving as she sails.
Circumnavigation from the centre to a ledge,
Round again, rotating, with a pivot, to the edge,
Godliness decreed it so, to scuttle, words her theft,
Alas, Arachne’s fall from grace continues until death.
Delicately balanced as she looms and pirouettes,
Vestigial veracity in the web she weaves, and yet,
Fine interlace, in gaps of truth, reveals her potency,
In need, she purloins captives, with her poison sets them free.
Spinneret fandangoes, unknotted in prowess,
Gossamer to gild the lines, the fabric of her dress,
Fascination’s failte, with her welcome, bids you come,
Fealty to the widow, to her mourning, now succumb.
Denigrated damsel by belittled deity,
Resuscitated for her skill, the likes of you and me,
Workers for the kingdom, in the balance as we step,
Tailors to the weavers to repay a single debt.
If you find it will you tell it we’ve been looking,
We lost it way back when, we can’t tell where,
We’ve turned out drawers and rooms and cupboards,
Searched for what is lost, most everywhere.
Widened search, we’ve ventured into corners,
Darkened places, depths we cannot own,
Into caves and cloisters, we’ve gone seeking,
Through passageways we’ve wandered and intoned –
Are you there, we’ve pled, reveal your hiding,
Conceal no longer, let us find you please –
High and low and on our knees and prostrate
We’ve begged, cajoled and cried out heartfelt pleas.
Everywhere we’ve gone, in all our searching,
A vague, unearthly voice, just out of reach,
Has whispered in our soul – keep right on searching,
You’ll find it in the end, it’s well worth finding,
You’ll know it by the lessons that I teach –
Light would help, a torch, a candle, matches,
A glimmer in the dark illuminates,
One star to steer by, even its reflection,
It’s waiting, oh, how patiently it waits.
If you find it will you tell it we’re all looking,
A legion that have lost it in the dark,
Somewhere in the past we lost our future,
If you find it pass it on or leave one vital spark.
“And what is good, Phaedrus,
And what is not good…
that which is good –
which has always been good –
drips still –
is not broken
How would you have me tell these children
How to prep for life yet preserve youth
Should I tell them all the ways we love each other
Or reveal the awful with each truth
Should I tell them of the Flanders Field still growing
Gift them euphemisms for the cause
Sublimate the knowing, temper answers
Opt out with some version, ‘just because’
Should I tell them that, for all our evolution,
We haven’t found a way yet to exist
That sometimes there will be betrayal from a lover
Served with honey and a tender kiss
Shall I tell them that adults are a throwback
Dinosaurs that still believe in myths
Legends, including every dragon
Will they trust us still when knowing all of this
Will children, with their foresight and their fairness
Decree no confidence, invoke that law
Every right they would have, let’s start over,
I’ve seen it, just repeating what foresaw
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