Without Us

You don’t understand me, perhaps …

But you certainly don’t like me;

Because I’m mine and

Comfortable with the fact.

I recognise your token sympathy

For the false pity that it is.

But hold: there’s something

Far bigger happening.

We should spit on our palms,

Make some kind of a deal,

So step aside, hold out your hand

Or go for cover, because it

Can happen without us.

Distant Blows

Distant blows -

Source unknown -

Sledgehammer?

Rimshot?

Shell?

Each replying to

Its own call;

Echo meeting shock.

Distant, rolling blows;

Definite, getting closer.

Survivors listen for the

Passing cracks,

Not knowing if

Construction is approaching

Or its alter ego: destruction

Is heading down the plot.

Unconcerned, the men

Digging trenches

Lean on shovels,

Knowing the soil

Will succour both …

And more.

 

The Way I Was Taught

Ought to get back -

The way I was taught -

On the horse that’s

Not a horse;

Get something to

Put by in the bank

That’s not a bank.

To remind myself

That the road that’s paved

With gold is walked by

Saints and sinners

As well as those

That have never noticed.

More Than Disconnected

There he was -

And here he still is -

Pride-blind stubborn man,

Reaching for the silver,

Expecting the love.

There we were -

Here we are still -

Though far more than disconnected;

Well past dislocated dysfunctional:

Bitter-orphan diversities.

Pretending not to listen,

Not to care.

The big casino simply

Wasn’t room enough.

As Tides Always Will

Those years ago,

Our first encounter,

I had only sounds …

Sounds and the pictures

Behind my eyes.

Now tunes return, as

Tides always will

And now I am able to

View the world-as-was.

I cannot help but smile

- So rainbow wide -

At the waters deep,

The bridges long

And all of those

Glorious adventures

In smoke.

By the Harvesters.

Of course, it’s got to be

Better not to dwell on it;

But we’re all going

To lose it one day.

He shouldn’t know it,

This head-down young charger,

Won’t know it until it ambushes him,

But his day is today.

Continue reading

Every Man

Two and a half days

Pushin’ bare earth ‘n’

Cold blood ‘n’

Iron bones around.

Send me the word,

Oh send me the word:

The one that means

Slaves can have honour,

The one that’s carried

By the northern star

And passed on by

A man named for colour,

A man named for royalty.

Every man headed for freedom

When the word gets here.