Legends In Lost Valley

Petrified in valley of the lost

like legends stood

Mutations of the mountains harboured

nothing that was good

Spat forth for a vengeance

from the bowels of the earth

Practised patience outwith time

awaiting secret birth

To ponder into places where no man

knew their name

To mix and match and mortify

heartless just the same

As when erupted from the fire

secreted way down deep

Sadists raised, sadistic birthed

humanity to reap

See them, hear them, guess their names

spot them in your lives

Could be neighbour, brother, child

could be someone’s wife

Loiter in the valley still

changing as they must

See all evil, do all evil

undermine all just

Petrified though once they were

characters of stone

Hills will call them back in time

to answer and atone

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Spirit of History

In about three hours time I should be ensconced in  ready to partake of the privilege of The Men They Couldn’t Hang.

(source:-   caitlinmccuskercoursework.blogspot.com )

Hopefully, ‘cos I’m ever hopeful, :), listening to this. Spot the bit that’s just ace.

England, 1936.
The grip of the Sabbath day
In London town the only sound
Is a whisper in an alleyway
Men put on their gloves and boots
Have a smoke before they go
From the west there is a warning of
A wind about to blow

Like Caesar marching to the East
Marches Mosley with his men
Dressed in their clothes of deepest black
Like a gathering hurricane
This is the British Union
With its flag of black and red
A flag that casts a shadow in
Berlin and in Madrid

So listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

So mile by mile they come on down
To a place called Cable Street
And other men are waiting there
Preparations are complete
Mosley comes so close
They now can see his outstretched arm
A hand raised up that way
Never took the future in its palm

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

The battle broke as the fists and the batons fell
Through the barricades came the sound of the wounded yells
Jack Spot burst through with a chair leg made of lead
Brought down a crashing blow on Mosley’s head

And so we learn from history generations have to fight
And those who crave for mastery
Must be faced down on sight
And if that means by words, by fists, by stones or by the gun

Remember those who stood up for
Their daughters and their sons

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists and stones and batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

Listen to the sound of marching feet
And the voices of the ghosts of Cable Street
Fists … stones … batons and the gun
With courage we shall beat those blackshirts down

 

Funny thing,

that we get far enough away from events

we call them history.

Then we look at it

and get a new perspective.

Or more than one.

No one says we have to look at history.

Everything only happened yesterday.

Yesterday is upon us every day.

Marching.

Demanding action.

The pendulum swings

to extremes,

all sorts of extremes.

If we don’t learn, we repeat.

I’ve repeated this song a lot.

Funny thing is,

I’m a pacifist.

By choice and persuasion.

And a coward..except.

Most of us would fight – in some shape or form – for what we believe to be right.

If only we could learn from history what that is.

Separating the myths from the legends.

We’re not obliged to learn.

It’s simply desirable.

To keep the music flowing.

To keep life going.

To keep on keeping on.

Let the spirit of history live.

 

Zeus

 Wikipedia

Unconsumed deity, sky and thunder,

Lightning bolted eagle trailing justice,

Law and order, punisher of plunder,

Titanic created, lived among us.

Trinitied with sea and hell, your brothers,

Abstracted myth in far-off temple ruins,

Fathering demi-gods, feared by lovers,

Apprehensive, we danced to all your tunes.

With credo of contempt for nymphs and men,

Eroticist, spiritually spent,

From seat of philosophy and reason,

Temporary immortality lent.

Create personified divinity,

Assorted theocentric legacy.

Ymir

Light-filled warmth,

vapours of mist

steaming from

fountain-formed ice,

Northern frost giant,

milk -fuelled Ymir,

slain for creation.

Sacrificed.

Xenophobia

Perpetuated myth

of stranger evil,

daggers drawn

for devils in

disguise.

Weird, lurking

creatures, strange of

habit, beware their styles,

their foods, their tongues that lie.

Remember to dissuade

all hope of union,

foreigners fierce,

fulsome

of eye.

Bewail

portents, signs,

curses may befall us,

enlist the guard, pogrom,

genocide. Ensure a culture dies.

Propaganda, stereotypical isolation,

belief that diverse

means

alien,

 spy.

Really?

Are we all so

very different?

Two legs, two arms,

One heart, we live, we die.

Warriors

Warriors bleed

heroic silence,

under-armed,

dismissed

by fate,

they wait.

Their time comes,

with peace or violence,

imbuing

inner strength,

no longer

bait.

In history and myth

their names

are legend,

numberless

from lands

both far and near,

woven into 

tapestry

of folklore.

Truth emerges.

Warriors 

overcome their fears.

Valkyries, Vampires And Victims Of Vile Visions

Lay down, warriors, to demi-gods,

you are chosen.

Let virgins feed

all needs 

with meal and mead.

Valkyrie tapestry

depicts your future

while vampires

curse and urge

desire to bleed.

Victims of their visions,

you are welcome

in Valhalla’s halls

for dying

in the field.

Vile mastery,

treachery to living.

Lay down, now,

die,

display you yield.

Unicorn

Ubiquitous in heraldry,

Twice blessed upon Scots’ Arms,

Mythical and magical,

Succumbs to virgin charms.

Innocence and purity,

Horned to bless and heal,

Nurtured joy, virility,

Unto only one would kneel.

Tantalus

honeyed lips to taste

ambrosial sweet

nectar to need

forever

out

of

reach

Star Musing

What tales are told in stars above,

How reflected here below,

What light extinguished in that plane,

Here leaving remnant glow

 

What universes stretch beyond,

Expand imagination,

What heavenly bodies once foretold

Splutter conflagration

 

How to attest our ignorance

Even as we learn

To reach beyond with minds, machines

Unto skies for which we yearn

 

How best to seize this knowledge

And such wonders so profound,

To be among the source of life,

Feet harnessed to the ground

 

How infinite the galaxies

From atom so compressed,

Energy empowered such

Thus our world is blessed.

 

What power so held by mighty force

That crushed one atom then

Created all, watched it expand

Source from way back when

 

A spot of dust became so vast

By massless, weightless form

Light from light eternal

Is this how we were born?