no one knows

wind does not blow
it flows…
it has no mouth
it has no nose
where it comes from
where it goes
we may say we do
but no one knows

I done been had

it would be good if it weren’t so bad
the highest low I’ve ever had
mostly things come not in one’s but two’s
sometimes you win, sometimes you lose
but in the end, when all’s said and done
it’s not what you do, it’s if you had fun

unsung

there is a song
not yet sung
on lips
yet to be formed
an echo reaches out
beyond time
the refrain
strains
to be heard
from beginning to end
for now it passes silently
only hissing air is the sound
a blast of silence
nothing is heard
expectations in imagination
await the call
as lips
though pursed
remain sealed
in hope
waiting
impatiently
with faith unfurled

Judas in us

there’s Judas in every one of us
it’s very clear to see
we cannot run nor hide away
this truth can set us free
to see this is the first of steps
towards a way away
from trading lies and deep deceit
the way we live each day
that in the very best of deeds
we cannot shake the fact
that what we give to others freely
is all to get it back

imagine reality

if we could only imagine reality
the possibilities might be endless
…or maybe not
what if the dam needed to imagine a plunging waterfall simply in order not to be a swamp
and a swamp in order to avoid being a perfectly endless dam
what if reality desperately needed an imagination to be truly free from the tedium of the predictable
and slavery the urgent, forbidden desire of freedom
an escape from the trap of endless perfection
the invention of mathematical science no more than the vain measure of desperate, faithful belief
what if imagination needed a reality to exist in the first place
…or maybe not

the song of the mad

.

sing us a song

dance us a jig

the song of the masses

the squeal of a pig

that together we may party

under the midnight sun

to imagine the good

that we say we have done

to comfort our own hearts

with crimes in sweet rhyme

the lies of the poets

in justification of our time

.

darkness can be no friend or delight

it hides only the arrow that flies by night

and light is even a darker foe

bringing only clarity of the darkness which we say we don’t know

exposing the folly of the race that we run

the path we stumble in vain search of more sun

.

it is not righteousness that the oppressed demand

but a chance to also oppress at their own will and command

so bad is good, and good is bad

an anthem of folly

the song of the mad

.