Willow Walk

subjects of your talk

mark this for turn of hope or choice or chance

that when we rise our hearts to joy are turned

instead of knowing that our work had earned

such tiny wages but the real advance

we did not realize nor yet enhance

those ways in which the greater fires burned

but did not eat up all of those who yearned

to set their feet free in the happy dance

now we have given you our honest word

and you fall silent it is not enough

that you do nothing to prevent our walk

along the forest path where golden bird

is seen at sunset matters not so tough

must in the end be subjects of your talk

 

groupons nous

we can't escape the honest final fact

of what we are but knowledge of the when

evades our thought for women and for men

the whole affair requires a lot of tact

while ancient legions trooper and cataphract

do battle to control both hill and fen

while we are in the grip of thought again

having no choice but fearing still to act

all voyages must come at last to port

or end at the sea-bottom ever lost

those are the options and we cannot choose

the fate that we are given time is short

as we find out we have to pay the cost

of all delaying and we always lose

no honest name

we do not get the choice to grow or fade

since each of us is placed just where we ought

to find the truth of all the things we're taught

which is much more that what life must abrade

with its rough edges we are ever frayed

broken and blinded knowing that we fought

both hard and well but losing were caught

in the old trap and sent back to the shade

so much to tell about where we were cast

the clawing upwards that's another fight

though none will listen to the loser's tale

nor should they we recall the faded past

while today's children look towards the light

and have no patience with the ones who fail

missing the answer

missing the answer means that when the true

vision of justice fills this hungry mind

it is not understood i have turned blind

to what is obvious not known the due

reception of the gifts of midday blue

warm and attractive nothing left behind

to be cleaned up by the unfailing kind

while i accept the price for what is due

time makes no changes on its very own

except in the bland lies that old folk tell

to calm the foolish on their downward run

instead they seek to gnaw upon cold stone

while listening for the distant warning bell

and for the sound of the last urgent gun

then they say goodbye

being denizen of no place ready set

within the bounds of the sublunar realm

is nowise daunting the facts overwhelm

only the weaker minds instead each debt

incurred in course of duty or regret

is paid in full by shade of oak or elm

in memory of the old man with cracked helm

by one who can't resist that final bet

each night is sacrificed so that my rest

becomes a loss that's added to the pile

just one more line that goes into the jest

another little twist those are in style

the truth is always harder than the lie

that's what they tell us then they say goodbye

flowers have been cut

what choices for the poor or for the dead

in myth or legend amount to the same

decline of knowledge ending of the game

feasting on shadows and the ghost of bread

stale waters and the odours of the head

nought to the matter there is no more shame

where we have gone only the dirty flame

of penny passions when the nights are red

now dreadful options face us on each side

when we must turn toward the fallen night

with little hope that anything we say

could make a difference it's a thorny ride

where we'll be going and the sort of plight

we find ourselves in is not healed by day

no bounds to honour

no bounds to honour yet the unjust lie

faster than lightning reaches for each throat

enforcing silence there's a bitter note

we can detect even when on the fly

a universe of difference going by

while on one side are those eager to gloat

over the losers in the daily vote

our only option here seems rather dry

what has been paid does not in full restore

the world we had but what we tell each child

will matter in the end since their delight

in the large world will become so much more

absorb the truth and gather in the wild

on that fine day when their strong hearts take flight

 

the end of pride

i wrote the words and sent them on their way

not knowing how each reader understood

just what was meant nor whether any good

would come from what was simple dance and play

of thought and vision now the options sway

between the meadow and the darkling wood

and we are trapped right where the choices could

not be more difficult on the worst day

what's said can be repaired but what is made

is fixed within the world once and for all

to be acknowledged or to be denied

that is the problem puts us in the shade

leaves us exhausted makes us want to bawl

and in the end will take away our pride

now the news

fallen from glory the world now turns drab

so easily a single dullish cloud

before the sun and all brightness is cowed

without resistance we can never grab

the moment back it's cast upon the slab

and we are from all justice disendowed

who were not long ago happy and proud

but now have come to the realm of the crab

the world is many things other than fair

since what we have we always have to earn

on terms that change each day and are not right

when most we want the best of things to dare

but never mind all that is good must burn

and from the fire we gain a better light

so many failings

there are so many failings but the one

that most we fear will come to us so fast

it will not truly matter we will cast

away anger and hope then face the sun

one final time knowing the course is done

all dues are paid and all pain in the past

where it belongs nothing left but one blast

of rage or vision to pay for the run

so is it set in the soft human mud

that we call history shaped by the tide

of shallow seas that will all marks erase

and take away as well the taint of blood

letting forgetfulness replace all pride

and a calm vista do instead of praise