Oh just shut up, you loud-mouthed crow.
Tell me something that I don’t know.
Like ~ when's the day on which I'll die,
and if there's anyone who'll cry,
or wave my wretched soul goodbye.
Some years ago I discovered a sign
in a men's public toilet
the sound and feel of my own laughter
filled me with much delight
Please don t throw your cigarette butts in the urinal
it makes them damp and hard to light
It is hard to imagination that the man who wrote this sign
would have had such a deep nicotine affliction
To attempt to light a soggy butt
to satisfy his daily nicotine addiction
Would this sign be found in a women's public toilet
There's no urinal, Their sign would likely read
This toilet is only suitable for one kind of butt
and when you leave please make sure the dunny lid is shut
.
only
first me
hold
feel nervous
mine
maundering
You shut yourself away
Very little on display
It started small
But now you have built a massive wall
You won’t show any emotion
But don’t see the erosion
You don’t communicate much
You are loosing touch
The enemy is your shadow
Your way of thinking has become narrow
You are letting the shadow control you
And alter your world view
You have shut everyone out
Your body language has put me in doubt
About how you are actually coping
There is no laughing only moping
You say you don’t feel safe
Then lockdown the case
No words just walking away
Pushing everyone the opposite way
You have been sick for a long time
I have been caring and patient on the decline
But when you shut down
You make everyone drown
I hope you leave your shadow soon
Before it takes you to the last saloon
Why does it take people marching in the streets
for us to take notice and get out of our seats?
Could be because society keeps humming along
as long as the majority feels like they belong.
What about the few that get pushed to the side
fighting daily just to get to the same starting line.
Tearing down the oppressed is sadly etched in stone
yet it shouldn't stop us from rebuilding those that feel alone.
Naive to believe the reconstruction will happen overnight
since we won't be able to quickly flip all wrongs to right.
But we can begin with a recognition and understanding
that the world keeps score based on our social standing.
So while the many may never know what it's like for the few
it's never too late to open our eyes to start seeing clues.
What if they all just shut up
Stopped regurgitating half-digested tripe
Arguing over such complex matters as
Is the Zebra white with black stripes
Or black with white stripes
Does the rain in Spain
Fall mainly on the plain
How much is too much
Does a little really go a long way
Can two really live as cheaply as one
How many angels can sit on the head of a pin
Will a stitch in time really save nine
Why don’t wet birds fly at night
But I digress…
What I meant to say was….
As our gang's led,
We'll stand on the ledge for the show.
We'll bang our heads,
And then over the edge we'll go.
Cuz they fed us meds,
And old scraps they dropped below.
There we bled undead,
With no other place to go!
One eye hits shut,
an invitation for mishaps.
One eye hits shut,
a feeling wakes within your gut.
Sunshine has stolen thunder’s claps,
in the realm of afternoon naps.
One eye hits shut.
You scorn the work my chisel made,
Yet you have never held the blade.
You see the flaws, call them mistakes,
But you have no idea what it takes.
It’s easy to point the finger with empty hand,
To stand high ashore and sound so grand.
But the sea never hears from those aground,
Only from those swimming safe and sound.
I won’t explain the things I’ve done.
For you have no idea why it's so fine-spun.
Instead, I'll hand the control over to you,
Hiding the hurt and pain that I'm going through.
Let’s see if you can match your claim.
When no one else will share your blame.
Because flipping the game your way,
Is the only way you'll beg me to stay.
I won’t confront and fight your claims.
Because I know you enjoy those games,
Where you deride my skills and learning,
With phony debates that are so undiscerning.
Don’t judge my journey; you've not trod that way.
Step aside, let me continue; get out of the way.
If you think it’s so simple; I'll let you try and fail.
Don’t mock the captain, 'til you've faced the gale.
So tired of the TV talking heads
twisting every word that's said
much of it scripted
and has to be read
they don't even have a vested interest
only putting their mouth
where the money is at best
my advice to them...
'If you have nothing useful to add,
Mum's the word
don't drive us mad,
keep it under wraps
stow it under your hat,
put a lid on it
or a cork in it,
zip your lips,
spare us the hot air,
it's a verbal Sirocco and, in all likelihood,
an ill wind that blows no one any good.'
The gate creaked, moaning and groaning to shut,
Sealing up, quelling, the bickering blame-game glut.
No you can’t sneak around, and jump the fence,
With grave looting cries of grief-stricken offense!
That won’t work anymore! So don’t strut up on-bail,
Clad in your ghostly godforsaken gossamer veil,
Claiming it was not your fault, 'cos you told no lie!
For snake-eyes have tears that very quickly dry!
The gist was far to hollow, for back-sliding disdain,
So go! The gate’s locked - you won’t get in again.
I turned to look back, feeling anxious as I stood
"by the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find."
Was there someone there watching me?
The gate creaked shut, echoing the taint of guilt
That I hoped no one heard.
Earlier I came through this gate to meet you in the woods.
It was rusty, stuck shut, and needed a heavy shove to open.
It reeked a somber reluctant groan, trying to stop me.
But, I would have nothing of its rattle, grind and snag.
I pushed it aside, and walked into the woods along the winding path.
The gate hung its head, trying not to see what it knew I'd do.
It looked up and sighed and rusty hinges creaked,
as the victim died and cried out, ambushed in the woods.
I turned back to retrace my steps, afraid of being watched.
I could feel it in my bones, though nothing was there to see.
As I approached the open gate it seemed that it had moved
every so slightly, impeding my escape through it.
It groaned, rattled, creaked with a clang of defiance
embellishing a subtle vibrato in the concordance of guilt.
The deed was done, the dirge was sung, the gate sprung, shut.
They came for the ones who floated in on streamers.
I did not care, they weren’t relatives or anything.
Then the soldiers came for the polka dotted ashtinglers.
I was never fond of them, so I ignored their screams.
When they came to take away the marshmonitors, I almost stepped in.
But they had guns and bayonets, and they were brutal.
When you are living in a dictatorship, you learn there is no freedom of speech.
I kept quiet.
They took my favorite neighbors, the Ashwanders on Tuesday night.
I heard Mr. A screaming for the rest of us to help him.
I thought if I kept my mouth shut, I would be safe.
I was wrong.
They've done with this world, they've shut up shop,
They've locked every door and window.
They've pulled the curtains tight, all in is excluded within.
All dissension within is chained up and barred shut, all out of spite.
They've silenced the migratory birds,
They've told them to go sing to the neighbors instead.
The postman now tosses their mail in the bin,
As the sign on their letterbox proclaims, “World’s switched off!”
The planet can spin, it's so nice elsewhere.
Who needs the cranky, spiteful, detached, deluded - U.S.
When we folks, all around here, are the welcoming sharing 'us'
We no longer want to hear the TRUMPet blare!
Let 'em cut off their nose to spite their face.
I want to hold you in my arms tonight
And fall asleep...
Turn off the light
Before you do though let's do this
Let's get real close
And share a kiss
It may last long, it might get late
Who cares?
I wouldn't hesitate
To kiss you while the light still glows
I wouldn't know
My eyes are closed
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