Do you know how deep the darkness goes? No. Chiaroscuro black conceals all but what's divulged by echoes, and figments spastic minds reveal.
Covert Cave [Lyric Poem]
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Category Archives: Lyric
A Poor Place to Be [Lyric Poem]
A turned field on a cloudy day. A clapboard shack, with threat of rain. Oh, it's so dark and gloomy - a rickety roost, not so roomy. Staring out the window, wondering: was that sound grumble or thundering? Grumble of stomach, thunder of sky? And I can't see out this bad eye.
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Mythical Kings [Common Meter]
Don't sell us benevolent kings, such creatures can't exist. An unchecked mind won't self-censor, and lame dogma persists.
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Winter Walking [Lyric Poem]
Out into a winter night, with snow and silence and fright. What's beyond the torch's light? Rubber boots on crunching snow. Oh, how far we have to go. An hour's trudge until sun glow gathers on the horizon. Then walk 'til the day is done -- again abandoned by the sun. We'll set up camp in the dark, try to get flame from a spark, and dread when next we embark... a few hours down the line.
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The Hut Life [Lyric Poem]
Just give me a simple brick hut with its doors tightly shut, and a cooling crossflow breeze, shaded by banyan trees. I won't be expelled by AI or sold the daily lies. We can talk live, not by "hit send" -- clueless to the world's end.
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Creeping Evil [Lyric Poem]
I feel creeping evil from all around the rose. I'd thought it long since dead, but, oh, it grows and grows. It was only dormant - just biding its time. Its suffocating burden weighs on all sound minds. Oh, when will it reach here? One can never know. It will sneak up on us on silent tippy-toes.
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Doom-Mongers & Talking Heads [Lyric Poem]
You are not the heroes
you think yourselves to be,
dreaming up perfect worlds
that can never be.
Anyone can picture
a far-fetched perfection,
and groan of other's faults
with dead-eyed disaffection.
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Misleading Lines [Lyric Poem]
The headline read, "The World 's at War!" It turns out "with halitosis." I couldn't bring myself to read more. I don't need no bad breath gnosis.
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The Golden Age Mythos [Common Meter]
There never was a Golden Age,
a time much better than right now.
But playing martyr 's all the rage:
to think our world the garbage scow --
whose stinking mass forever grows.
Lest you think that I'm saying these
are times of pure and sweet repose,
Please, let me put your mind at ease:
These times are best. These times are worst.
(To blatantly steal from Dickens.)
This twist is just how we are cursed
to shriek like that sky fall chicken.
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Grasp Reflex [Common Meter]
A white-knuckled grip on the rail, though the ship is sinking. The brain insists one hold tightly; there's no mind for thinking. A samaritan pries at your fist, but it will not budge. In giving up, he feels guilty -- conscience jury and judge. You couldn't wedge just a single breath to crack a space for thought. A simple thing it is to let go, but look what fear has wrought. A quarter million tons now drags you to the cold, dark depths. Until the body's unthinking gasp of watery breath. The hand lets go, but still you sink trapped by your last mistake. The tragedy of a grasp reflex that you could not break.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 