All along the paths of stone
That bruise and hurt our feet
There are none who would throw us a bone
Among those we meet
So many so the wild dog howls
Up from the depths of hell's bowels
Its been rejects of them that prowls
All along the jetty
Sometimes out on the lake at night
The wild wolves roam,
Their homes out of sight
All alone their eyes are bright
Out on the lake tonight
Sometimes out in the deepest forest
Tigers roar, warthogs forage
But it is all in jest
Of every last homage
To Budapest
Or the road once promised
Sometimes in the dreaming spires
I catch a glimpse of burning fires
Spiraling up into the sky
Like tears streaming down from the Sun's eye
Sometimes I feel the hilt dig in my side
Sometimes it is a thorn
Sometimes a spike, mostly
It is the sword thrust from love
That makes me cry
Why do you always move the stairs
From the steeple?
Why always move the chairs
For all the musical people?
Why when nobody cares
Do the wolves show their wares
And sell their teeth?
Why in the crooked house
Where snow white sleeps
Does the wicked witch creep
and always preach?
About how trolls should not be trusted
And how Goldilocks is crossing
Over another bridge
Then she tires of her stroll
And reaches for the porridge in the fridge
And why is puss in boots stuck in
The smartest suits when you
Feel he is a Spanish kitty
Meant for ally-cat pursuits
There can be no let up for
The open can of worms
That Cinderella is left to hold
After the cigarette factory burns
She should have worked in a glass works
And held onto a zoo of animals
Instead she lent towards the prince
Who was consumed with financial windfalls
And sucked into Pumpkin growing
On the slopes of Kilimanjaro
Thursday, 28 March 2019
Cutting Glass
Labels:
Budapest,
fairy tale,
forest
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 24 March 2019
Day at the Lake
We walked
by the reeds
And we read
by the rocks
We saw by
the seas
By the cold
water were shocked
Sat and we
pondered
We pondered
and sat
And the
things that we wondered
Stood up or
laid flat
I have
spent my life waiting
waiting, waiting
for you
Now down at
the lake
I see a
reflection of somebody
new
I am no
longer the man I used to be
In the
water I didn’t see anybody
I knew
Down at the
lake, I waited, waited for you
Waited for
you to rise from the water
Like Guinevere,
like Excalibur
Like a
sword somebody
threw
Now by the
lake you can cut me
Cut me with
your double-edged blade
One side
for things I’ve said the other
For things I
left unsaid
Down at the
lake, you drew me
Like an
artist’s portrait
Sometimes
it was a caricature
Like a cartoon
that somebody
drew
Now with
your pen you kill me
You take
away my soul when you make
That
picture of that time when you saw me
Sitting
down at the lake
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Polished Diamonds
She's polished in the art of what she wants
What she wants
And she always, always gets what she wants
What she wants
What she wants
She's nobody's fool, she's nobody's fool
She is nobody's fool
But you know she's old school
You know that she's old school
She is diamonds in the shaft of a mine
She is diamonds in the shaft of a mine
You might find them, but she's always on the line
She's always on the line
Always on the line
Singing Canary, singing out from your cage
Singing Canary, singing out from your cage
Makes you think she should be on stage
Polished diamonds in the hands of the thief
Polished diamonds in the hands of the thief
Fall like sand when you know your time is brief
You know your time is so brief
She comes alive when she's staring out from the shore
She comes alive when she's staring out from the shore
Always thinking that there must be something more
There must be something more
Polished diamonds, shining in her teeth
Polished diamonds, shining in her teeth
When she smiles you know there's an end
To all your grief
When she smiles, there's an end to all your grief
What she wants
And she always, always gets what she wants
What she wants
What she wants
She's nobody's fool, she's nobody's fool
She is nobody's fool
But you know she's old school
You know that she's old school
She is diamonds in the shaft of a mine
She is diamonds in the shaft of a mine
You might find them, but she's always on the line
She's always on the line
Always on the line
Singing Canary, singing out from your cage
Singing Canary, singing out from your cage
Makes you think she should be on stage
Polished diamonds in the hands of the thief
Polished diamonds in the hands of the thief
Fall like sand when you know your time is brief
You know your time is so brief
She comes alive when she's staring out from the shore
She comes alive when she's staring out from the shore
Always thinking that there must be something more
There must be something more
Polished diamonds, shining in her teeth
Polished diamonds, shining in her teeth
When she smiles you know there's an end
To all your grief
When she smiles, there's an end to all your grief
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
The River of Fortune
I sat by
the buckets of sand all around
Brought up
from the river
Placed on
the bank
I was
waiting with my buckets of sand all around
Waiting to
build a new temple in thanks
Well it was
only a river
A river of
fortune
It was only
a river to me
It was only
a river,
Just a
river of fortune
And I
followed the river
That flowed
into the sea
Well I
walked up the mountains
To find its
old source and
I searched
for the gold at the end of the rainbow
And I
followed the river, the river of fortune
I followed
the river that flowed
Into the
sea
Well I cleared
all the tables
Threw white
and sable
Flags over
the things that were never meant to be
And the
river took them all
All my
possessions
And they
carried them out and into the sea
It was only
a river, a river of fortune
Only a
river to me
It was only
a river, just a small river
But I
followed the river down into the sea
Well I
fished on its banks
And cried
and gave thanks
And it
answered my prayers sometimes
And it gave
back in barrels
When I sang
of its carols
Oh the
river of fortune
For the
bold and the free
It was only
a river, a river of fortune
Only a
river to me
Only a
river, just a small river
And I followed
the river that went down to the sea
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sun on the Parliament
The sun on
the parliament
The shining
white government
Cleaner
than clean, holier than thou
Looking
backwards or looking forwards
Holding on
to something I can’t see anyhow
Where are
the dreams that I once mastered
Where is my
shipmate to stand in her bow?
It came
like a triffid out of the blue
It shot
like an arrow or a bullet that flew
And there
was no stopping the love in the morning
There was
no cropping the growth that was new
For we all
fall down, when we sneeze
We all come
down with that flu
Love is as
catching as a fire in thatching
And its
impossible to put out what has grew
Finally,
there came a question
It was
asked of our lives if true
Or if false
it meant we must return to our boarding
on the
chicken wire fence where we crew
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Seven days a week
Context> Isis defeated in Syria,
A factory has been burning for half a week
They've just discovered how to scan a baby's heart while its in the womb
Well it burned from Monday to Wednesday
But on Sunday was when the fire went out
The factory burned, burned, burned
From Monday to Wednesday
It burned down the chambers of the heart
An the cathedral bells there
Rang in the boiling air
And what can be a greater organ than
The human heart?
Well the organs blew their pipes
And the strings strummed their pangs
And the choirs of the angels
Sang their hymns
But the church still burned
In the ferocious desert wind
That fanned the flames higher
Through the knave
An incendiary bomb went off
And melted the lead roof
And it dripped on the stone slabs
And the pews
The font filled up with ashes
Where the babies cried their lashes
And the mothers lent against the pillars
With tear soaked eyes
And the church of the sacred Heart burned on through the night
It burned as the planes dropped their bombs
And it burned from Monday all through to Wednesday
On Thursday the fire crews came in to save the pews
And they doused the crucifixes in water
On Friday the mothers carried crosses and saved their daughters
And on Saturday all the fathers saved all their sons
So by Sunday the water ran down all the church walls
And the flood came in until the fire in its heart was gone
A factory has been burning for half a week
They've just discovered how to scan a baby's heart while its in the womb
Well it burned from Monday to Wednesday
But on Sunday was when the fire went out
The factory burned, burned, burned
From Monday to Wednesday
It burned down the chambers of the heart
An the cathedral bells there
Rang in the boiling air
And what can be a greater organ than
The human heart?
Well the organs blew their pipes
And the strings strummed their pangs
And the choirs of the angels
Sang their hymns
But the church still burned
In the ferocious desert wind
That fanned the flames higher
Through the knave
An incendiary bomb went off
And melted the lead roof
And it dripped on the stone slabs
And the pews
The font filled up with ashes
Where the babies cried their lashes
And the mothers lent against the pillars
With tear soaked eyes
And the church of the sacred Heart burned on through the night
It burned as the planes dropped their bombs
And it burned from Monday all through to Wednesday
On Thursday the fire crews came in to save the pews
And they doused the crucifixes in water
On Friday the mothers carried crosses and saved their daughters
And on Saturday all the fathers saved all their sons
So by Sunday the water ran down all the church walls
And the flood came in until the fire in its heart was gone
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Falling into the hands of trust
All of my yesterdays are as a nothing
And all of my tomorrows are dust
The wind blows a gentle breeze of understanding
And I fall once again in your trust
I fall again like the night from the sky
As certain as a pure ray of sun
I fall again like a prisoner held captive
Under the aim of your gun
And the mountains still last in the distance
Despite all our human affairs
They will pass and out smart us
And endure beyond the years of our care
But how can I just a man
Hope to leave a trace in the sand?
When the tide will come in
And wash away my footprints
As if I never did stand
And how can you, just a woman
Hope to command the wind
When you may for short time direct her
But in the end she'll make up her own mind
And all of my tomorrows are dust
The wind blows a gentle breeze of understanding
And I fall once again in your trust
I fall again like the night from the sky
As certain as a pure ray of sun
I fall again like a prisoner held captive
Under the aim of your gun
And the mountains still last in the distance
Despite all our human affairs
They will pass and out smart us
And endure beyond the years of our care
But how can I just a man
Hope to leave a trace in the sand?
When the tide will come in
And wash away my footprints
As if I never did stand
And how can you, just a woman
Hope to command the wind
When you may for short time direct her
But in the end she'll make up her own mind
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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