Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Old Man's Lament

Child-sun blazes
through grey morning fog
his passion overpowers
night’s sluggish slog
‘till bright noon’s afire
with his effervescent  love,

but it’s all the same, it’s
all the same.
Morning, noon, and night
may embrace our little lives,
but it’s always the same.

The ancient moon rises
in the fast-fading east.
Bloody sun dies, failed day retreats,

but it’s all the same, it’s all
the same.
Morning, noon, and night
may consume our little lives
but it’s all the same, always
the same.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

A Prophecy

The cities of England burn
with the rage of youth -
nothing to gain
and nothing to lose.

Blitzkrieg rains incinerate
shops and schools
give cover
as they rush through
gaping windows.

“so why not go get your own?
a penny’s worth,  a purse,
a watch,
designer jeans
you know…..

“nearly one million school leavers
and graduates
out of work,
a generation lost
to worklessness.”[i]

So sirens wail as batons flail
like v-bombs launched
on the nation’s children…


The story of our
strangled civilization
written on the back
of bloodied balance sheets

until new order prevails
in the cities of England, France,

the few rich
and the many poor.


Monday, August 1, 2011

Three Vespers

In the day’s final glow
all colors flow
to the whispering breeze,
dark, rustling

Through the hot afternoon
with purpose I moved
and never did think
bright day would sink
to gloom.

In the gentle west wind,
in the soft starry glow,
I hear you sing
and then I know
never will you 
leave me