Sunday, June 28, 2015


On these winter nights the surf does not roar
And I hear rolling thunder nevermore.
But that's because the window's closed up tight
So the carbon dioxide doesn't bite.

And when I breathe the madness
That burns all ways,
Memory seared with sadness
Scorches my days.

So is all that they did worthless?
They repelled the invaders,
Propeller suns that rose in the north.
Wasn't that an achievement?
Would those knights of an emperor's sword
Have remade the land like it was?
Would they have closed the gap
As they reoriented the map?

And then I hear the donkeys
That jeer and bray,
Myopic mules and monkeys
Drinking up their day.

The legacy has all been spent
In thoughtless get rich schemes
That will never pay the rent
And can only wreck the dreams
Of the ones still yet to come,
Waiting where we all waited,
Out there lifeless and numb,
Passports ready to be dated.

And when I fill the bins
How do I know I'm right?
Mistakes are mortal sins
'Cause the climate gets a fright.

Perhaps  I'll stop writing for a while
And read in the sunlight.
Maybe I'll force a smile
And stymie tears in the night.
I'll mutter verses to myself -
Little trifles, cute and trite -
Like biscuits on the top shelf,
Packed with sugar and floured white.

And when I hear you say
You come in peace,
It's blood that blocks the way.
When will your killing cease?

The painting is by Guy Denning, an English artist who founded the Neomodern group.

No comments: