The land is in sight

The time will come when all
This sand
Will seem like shit
In my hand
But for now
I wipe my brow
Continue to sit
Continue to stand
And pass through the day
Like a ghost without sound
Like a ship without sail
Trying not to run aground

And the storms may blow
And the seas may sink
Before the tow
I pull and think
Upon my oars
that reach for the brink
Where the water runs over the gunwhale

I have seen many like me before
They cry caterwauling from the stocks
The captain has whipped them
Then they're sent below
To be out of sight of St Peter's Rock
But I know
There is land ahoy
Although I see it not
From my crows nest
I see clouds gather
There one day I may rest

Woman in the Window

There’s a woman in her window and she’s watering her plants

Just as the sunlight marks the day’s start

And she tends to the seedlings and watches them grow

Which she put in three weeks ago

And there are men with suitcases wheeling them down the street,

for their families are leaving their hotel in retreat

And elderly women towing their trollies behind

Back from the morning shop at the grocers

Red Letter Days

Let the dust settle down

Let the air rush in

The fury and the sound

To bear anything

I have ten thousand pounds

And it rests on a king

If I pull out an ace

I’ll ruin everything

It’s a hard, hard place

When you’ve everything to win

And you’re in the wrong place

To even begin

You’re on a rock out in space

Circling the moon

And you fall from grace

Though you’re born with a silver spoon

It’s a hundred lives

All traced back to one

Just the circus of the humans

All under the sun

It’s a red letter day

And a star crossed bun

That you bake in the oven

And you give to someone

The tree lines are endless

And the birds circle round

The bridges and the pigeons rattle with sound

The banks of the river back up in green

And you think you should shoot them

There are ten thousand actors
and hundreds of scenes

And ten thousand lives
All condensed into one
The red letter lives lived under the sun

They bring you the chapters

To their latest books

You read them, close them

Give them a second look

There are ten thousand pages

And ten measly words

That mean anything to you

Beyond swollen dead birds

She used to eat roses

She used to eat roses

For the feel of love

To imbibe in her body

The rich sensual stuff

To embalm by her tongue

The death roll of arms

The dying of the light

In the passionate night’s charms

She used to eat roses I’m told

Those figures in poses

All wrapped up in gold

Glowing in the prescience of a dream

But her roses were not what they seemed

Now that she’s grown and tasted love

And lost love in the passing wind

She grows roses in her garden

Tends them with her green fingers

Bruised down to the bone

The constant feeling of earth and weed

We must remove what we don’t need

After brutality the rose may grow

Unimpeded, only after the brutal blow

She used to eat roses I know

Now she sits in her garden,

Where row after row

She watches the breeze blow

through her roses

The house of the Wolf

All the houses are dug like wolverines

The opening lines of smug underlings

Fall by the wayside of a certain despair

They know no happy endings

They forgo repair

I salute the happy cats

The bold bright eyes

The pigs even fly

Above their sties

And such are the cornered hues

When heaven lets go her deluge

Upon the unsuspecting folk

Dragged out and beaten put in yoke

I looked for humility in the hands of those I knew

Looked for a caring touch, but they were few

The salad days are over too

And looking back now I’m older

It seems colder there though almost new

The lucky ones with tickets to this life

Get to ride the train without much strife

Those of us without the fare

must dodge the inspector

When he comes to claim his ware

We must slip between the tracks, jump the carriages

Hold on tight to cracks, as the train rumbles past

Like thunder we shall ride the lightning last

Some of us must choose marriage

For that is the building block of society

By that token you earn your keep

In the land of peaceful sleep

And yet if you choose to rebel

What is there left which you can sell?

Nobody wants what you can give

A humorous life is what you live

Then is it better to live in drama

Of the fading corpse?

You know the deal, you’ve seen the scene

In the movie of course

It will be a re-run, of such pride eroding toil

That would break the back of camels

Sent out to walk on sandy soil

It would be a desert dry

And yet I think that I could try

For there is something left in the sky or land

That speaks of rain

And then a little rain could come

And freshen up the hopes of one

Whose confidence had been hard done

Under such a blazing sun

Silver Bullets

Your silver bullets have not killed me yet
Meet me in the morning
In the land of no regret
Shoot me dead at midnight
When I am the beast and yet
The werewolf in the wardrobe is not dressed to kill
But easy to forget

Sometimes I like to dress up. Halloween spook
Or crazy vet
Your silver bullets hit me
In the centre of the chest
Luckily my heart had moved
To my mouth or maybe my feet
You left me there in a pool of blood
As the moonlight swam in your eyes
And all those silver fish of lies
Came out about the carpet

You left me there in the moonlight
Your silver bullets in my chest
A stake through my heart
A crucifix to digest
But I woke up to smell the coffee
Your silver bullets haven't killed me yet

People of the setting sun

People of the setting sun
Look upon what you have done
The beauty fades in your eyes
Look once into their dying skies

People of the setting sun
I have come to walk among
The fire branded soulful ones
Out in the street as night comes

See their flags sail high
In the western breeze
Hear their trumpets sound retreat
To the Mountains and the trees

Know the customs of the Hun
People of the setting sun
East meets West invested in
The bloody tide of Hungry skin

Far beneath where shadows shun
All the curtain calls begun
The cast walk out on to the stage
The setting scene for another age

Open up the cuts which run
Deep red blood of dying sun
Flowing from the mother
Down to her son
In the streets, the budding streets
People of the setting Sun