On Englands streets its people gather in ones twos
Threes in their thousands for this matter.' To stand and
March to celebrate the very essence that made their country great.' There will be burghers plumbers tailors and
Farmers; surveyors councillors barbers, and no harmers
Ex police and soldiers too.' Professors lecturers and maybe you? Clever and not so ( inclusion at its finest) many
British and united' soldiers may have died to achieve none the less.' Such
Sacrifice will guide them on' to teach, care; to nuture and they will be their
Finest.' They will many songs, words of hope no doubt will ring, may tomorrow be
Pleasant with great purpose at this big London gathering.!
Time is not justly counted by increments...
like a pie all crust can have space without filling
it disappoints –
too much wasted by reluctant planning –
few visions of living ever leaving the station of
Excursion – like a dynasty of tempting brochures culminating in
tenure, that far more brave and less credentialed travel faithfully
outright...
Triumph's Reckless Youth vs Pompous Charted Night
such licensed surveyors expose dark by tiny bits called
stars, seeing only seconds, oblivious to stuffed longer
gigantic days' leaps packed into uncharted universes
time shallowly used is soul
and spirit only outside basted,
exterior roast__toast
while the bloody inside
left yearning release,
for its surface~ burning!
when time is too contemplated,
measured, set in plates of orderly
rations – seasoned but only tasted
(a belly denied lumps of glutenous
impulsive passions)
it is a written novel
with no real claims
to glory....
Time then...is only Time
dimly expressing God's timeless
true story
stones scattered around
when stacked in right angle lines
mark old boundaries
I look out into the scorching sun
The treeless expanse is no fun
An expressway they are making
Disinterest in pedestrians they're not faking
The dust blows right into your face
As soil laden dumpsters against time, race
I am waiting for the bill "we must all pay"
As the kick-back takers like to say
Without them we could not hope for this belt
Our unmet need the politicians really felt
Planners and surveyors studied the road less, travelled
As our debt burden out of control, unravelled
They are on site as we speak
Cheek by jowl with the hoi polloi meek
How many have nots will ascend to use this expressway?
How many generations of children for it will pay?
some day
some time
somewhere
in the state
of Maine
two surveyors
who knew not
that they were
poets because
they were
drunk
and so thunk
in a staggered line
this is yours and this
mine
Canadian
Maine again
was Canadian
now Maine again
a toast: draw the line
A belt keeps pants from falling down
Or gives the loops employment.
A song that’s belted out may give
The audience enjoyment.
A belt of Scotch may calm the nerves
But there is no denyin’
The brightest belt is in the sky
On he who hunts, Orion.
One belt can lay a boxer flat
And factory surveyors
Keep track of goods that travel
On the belts we call conveyors.
What prompted this was Henry,*
Such a proud, excited fellow
Who just passed his test in Tae Kwon Do
And earned his belt of yellow!
*my 4 ½ year old grandson
The Abandoned Railroad
By Elton Camp
Its wooden ties are in a state of decay
The rail bed is partly washed away
Nature slowly but surely will reclaim
Then once again all will be the same
Though the rails alone for decades last
Testimony that a train formerly passed
Surveyors and laborers worked in vain
Why it was put there, none can explain
For those who built it no longer are alive
The works of man so seldom long survive
So it has been through the ages of history
Both people & their works lost in mystery
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