Category: history & mythology

And All This For You (day 836)

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Shift with me, a while
As we waltz down this hall

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

I do not guess with my moments
Grass and trees tell me rocks

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

And long earth has forever shone
Sweet Gaia’s cuddling sun

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

Shadows fill in the blanks
For eyes that carry onward; hope

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

I’m a god damn coward but
I’ve shared this bit with you

It’s love, and all this for you
It’s love, and all this for you

Old English Accent (day 782)

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It wasn’t too long ago that I
Wandering through fields waist high
Came upon one friendly blade of grass
That spoke to me in old English decree
Thus like:

Forsooth it is thy jolly Lombard
Erect in flight of recent folly
That doth not retire grand ambition
That doth not spare no damsel plight
Amongst thy gallows of conquered fate
Whence settling down amongst thou bromus
He contemplates his recent fight
And not one hour should pass thy penance
When thou stumblt upon a gift that gave
So lovely displayed be suit noble court
Of kindly and jolly King Edward the IV.
And in this gift so deep a sentiment
Earl Warwick, himself! ere be knelt
The gift to seekers shall be found
Not in man’s work but in mankind
Thou gift is also found upon
Thy brow of revelations crown

And to this joy that I’d now found
While wandering to and then to fro
Reciting, by name, the grass that grew
Here I would learn to love anew

North Thompson Field of Hay

As the Dagger Begins to Sink (day 772)

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Don’t throw away my misery as if I’ve been kindly handling your manner for years
Respect it and covet it like a well worn lawn mower, hardly spewing black smoke
And dance around it with spears and face paint while chanting god-speek
Because if you, for one single moment, think the moon will set before the deed is done
Then you’re sadly mistaken, sadly believing in mystics and chimera
Barking at the moon fully loaded for bear with a hand down your trousers
While the children of the night roll around at your feet, stretching for answers
Into the pale night skies pockmark’d rivers of darkness
Don’t let me be, standing here against the cold wall of ancient growth alone and heavily breathing
Listening for forgotten sounds to ring alert, echoing in the night
A calming sensation growing up through my spine as anxious boils over into my thoughts
When the dagger begins to sink into it’s last goodbye

In Warszawa (day 707)

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Was it only a dream
Those dreadful years
In Warszawa cold
In Warszawa starving
Ghetto staring
Eye to eye to
Eyes of surrender
No choice in living
No matter living
Searching into
Darkened eyes
For a heart of gold
In Warszawa cold
In Warszawa starving

Ancient Ruins (day 702)

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Standing here marked in my sentinel pose
The pigeons have come home, bringing what blows
Shifting time here from then, now, and future
And watching seasons twist before my eyes
Carrying new colours with birth, love, and death

But my purpose has been lost in the changing of regime
What once was a tyrant has now become kindly
Taxes increased, but civil liberties have too

Blinking slowly I become a shifting flower of dust
A shocking array of memories unwritten
While passersby brood and confuse points on maps
And come more and go, pigeons of flight
Remain here in harbour, remain here at rest

History Sleeps (day 688)

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And your swords
Heel’t by the pressures of oath
Forcing thought from mind
Into duty, sworn and bred

~

It is here where deceit grows
Amongst the cobwebs of freedom
Faith of the free
Growing dissonance

~

But straightened backs
And freshly pressed regalia
Adorned with pride and service
Calm thy boiling blood

~

Hindered with loathe
Confidants biding their time
In halls of betrayal
Seething with ego

Unnatural betrayal hidden
Behind blind eyes of service
Suckling the easy tit of
Mephistopheles

~

While memories float frequently
Between graying hairs
And balding victories
Scavenging the lands of truth

Relying on honor
A choice and a path
Not a reason or calling
But inward honesty

~

Though demons fight unceasingly
Through hushed dark corridors
Escape routes of the squeamish
Icicles of setting winter

~

Until the end remains clear
Ancient avenues of chestnut trees
Above the family crypt
History sleeps as change begins