What I thought I knew about love

Love is digging,
it is not a tick,
It is not blood sucking
It is time to quit
What I thought I knew about it
Has been overthrown by a new suit

The kings and queens of the merry-go-round
Go-round, and around, and up and down
And they dance in their throws
They swirl in their gowns
But where is the jester? He cannot be found

What I thought I knew about love
I'm dumbfounded,
I think it is fitting but that thought is illfounded
I  thought it was sweet, but it is rotten meat
And it smells in the wells, in the day's heat

What I thought I knew about love is forgotten
I left it in the lake, it has sunk to the bottom
My haystacks of mistakes are burning beside me
But I can't see for looking through the smoke
Which misguides me

What I thought I knew about love is all sold
I wrote it in the magazine had my words printed in gold
But they are too thin for the story to be told
So I try not to give - in, just God let me be bold

The word was on the tip of my tongue

And she was there also beyond
The pail
Looking for her chain mail
Armour to wear
Joan of Arc who had
Talked with God
And knew just exactly where
She belonged
And I fell like a beast in the field
Under her sword of the lord

I fell like a sacrificial calf
upon
The altar of circumstance
And so it was done
Like it should have been first
The cut was made
The scar will be worse
But the pain I remember
As if I'd rehearsed
This scene a thousand times
Already

And she saw signs,
I swear she did
In the pines,
On the paths
On the lines of her palms
In the tones of my laugh

Like a detective of the macabre-
Sonata a full evangelical
Angel fire-starter

So and so

I took the needles from the haystack
And broke the camel!s back
The straw dogs walked in the afternoon
In the land of the midnight sun
And soon
The pale terrapins were playing in the pond
And I saw that it was good
And their flippers shone
And Jeremiah stood
Under the parasol,
Because his song had sung out to sea gulls
And there were no words left
To
carry on

Early Birds

You have to be an early cat
To catch the early bird
The gold falls from the sky
I can't catch it
The morning is golden
So is your memory
But you gave away your gold
You little canary
It is flown like the sky lark
The pirates have smuggled it
Now they've taken you to their island
Where you will lie with them
Their giant cat claws have lain on your breast
Where your heart beats fast
With the bold and the best
But bird kind cannot manage another like you
So they leave you to the pirates
And their drunken cat curfew

It takes an early bird to catch a worm
And it takes a bin full of promises
Before I can learn
That the ring that I gave you
Was yours to burn
And the Gold that you gave me
Was never mine in turn

To be continued

A large part of diversifying accrued agreement rests solely on the shoulders of giants. It is not that giant’s shoulders are literally any more satisfying to rest on than an ordinary man or woman’s shoulders – Giants can be the most quarrelsome and loathsome of creatures, whose habit it is to eat farm yard animals and anyone smaller than themselves – no the real advantage is their broad shoulderlieness. I say this as one who knows

Do you like Techno?

When you finally realize

You've been talking to a white supremacist

And they call you a woman just to mask their cowardice

And they tell you its alright its not the tone

Of the skin

Its the ideology they have a problem with

Not the race thing

You realize they are a racist

A nutter, a fraud

That they are this brand of "English abroad"

Who think they have the right

To say what they like

because they live in

A country that is free from wrong or right

That they are just saying what everyone feels

That they have the upper hand on the

Unconscious subs meals

That they should be valued

Along with the rest

That they are the victims

Of all this unrest

That Muslims and Jews are a scourge on the land

And if they had their way they would wipe their hands

With all the unclean

The un-pure bred

Well just point out

They have something missing from inside their head

They have missed that they are the cowards

They think they are warriors

But they are brow beaten, brown-nosers

They are small little fish

Flailing in the mud

Their time is up

Their oxygen is sucked

They have little left to sustain a

dying life

They are ancient remnants

They must be consigned

To the rubbish bin of life

And if anyone asks you do you

Like techno?

Just respond firmly

No I do not

And walk away from the party because

It is shit

And they all need their heads examined

For dancing to it

out-foxed

a fox kept in a box
Is like to get the pox
But a fox without her socks
May tread on sharp jagged rocks

So, think outside the box
but inside the fox
Then a thought that can cause shocks
Will be more like one that unlocks