a trijan refrain
Demagogues fighting in a war
spar to find the liars.
Though it generates some rapport,
toleration backfires.
Demagogues lose in false debate.
Speak up, strive to keep the facts straight,
demagogues, fight!
Demagogues' fight
hopefully ends in Truth’s checkmate.
Demagogues fighting for their lives
honesty clears their names.
Distorted data only drives
to falsify their claims.
Truth’s checkmate dies in deep despair
till forthright courage dares to care
truth’s checkmate wins.
Truth’s checkmate wins
the victory is answered pray’r.
Demagogues fighting could conclude
words divide wrong from right.
Grace and mercy grant latitude
if truth has won the fight.
Unanswered prayers we abhor;
integrity accounts for more
answered prayers.
Answered prayers
finds demagogues winning word wars.
February 25, 2020
a demagogue might be a person running for office
or a ruler already in power
The moon has hit its highest peak
The challenge has begun
The alpha has claimed right of speak
The challenger will run
The pack will chase until it's caught
The challenger will likely rot
The pack will chase
The pack will chase
Whom ever the alpha has sought
The moon has hit its highest peak
Alpha is on the prowl
The search will never be so bleak
The nose can find an owl
The alpha will teach the pack well
So onward the alpha will tell
The alpha will
The alpha will
Will hold the pack together well
The moon has hit its highest peak
Allowing the pack to see
For the challenger's looking bleak
He can no longer flee
The killing dance will now begin
The challenger is cornered in
The killing dance
The killing dance
The alpha will certainly win
Forgotten in my hurried quest
with forms of every kind
is that this is one of the best
all 'round you'll ever find.
Just try it once, then you will know
a refrain sets your mind aglow.
Just try it once,
Just try it once -
You'll wear it often, just for show!
Sweet fortune sent love on the run
as fate has proved this night,
the stars can’t change what has begun
time tells what’s wrong or right.
Though winds may blow, a heart burns true
and faith still holds though storm may brew,
though winds may blow
though winds may blow,
what has been done none can undo.
Sweet fortune sent love on the run
swear to this vow be strong,
seal lovers bond what’s done is done
true love cannot be wrong.
Though ship may sail to distant shore
he shall return just as before,
though ship may sail
though ship may sail,
I know we’ll meet again once more.
Sweet fortune sent love on the run
alas the dawn draws near,
stark stands the truth in morning sun
though moon held hope so dear.
Such promises made in the night
still cannot make this wrong feel right,
such promises,
such promises,
lie empty in the morning light.
I will not fear the silent night
alone below the moon
or winter’s cold approaching bite-
the sting that comes too soon.
I’ll wrap my heart in Summer’s song
And sing to keep my passion strong
I’ll wrap my heart
I’ll wrap my heart
And hope that frost won’t linger long.
I will not mourn the silent night
or raging of the sea,
the frothy caps that spread in spite
of calmness deep in me.
I’ll rise above the drowning tide
with pounding heart and battered pride
I’ll rise above
I’ll rise above
and fill the barren wells inside.
I will not hold the silent night
against the bitter wind
though darkness clouds my inner sight
and resolution’s thinned,
I’ll plant my feet, embracing choice
accept the native parts, rejoice,
I’ll plant my feet
I’ll plant my feet
remaining true to my own voice.
~Trijan Refrain~ (a fabulous form by Jan Turner)
8/23/10
Come dance with me, my winged escape
and skip the skies in flight
we’ll let the wind lick at our nape
and subtle touch invite.
Our cares we’ll toss to milky moon
and resonate our silky tune-
our cares we’ll toss
our cares we’ll toss
in freedom’s name our love commune.
Come float with me, my winged escape
on billowed waves of blue
we’ll lift the night mist’s heavy drape
and sail on moonbeams through.
This golden eve will whisper dreams
on silver sheets where all it seems-
this golden eve
this golden eve
cascades our love down rushing streams.
Come bloom with me my winged escape
in midnight’s breathless hour
my petals spread ‘neath stardust cape
to nature’s heady power.
We’ll give ourselves to Spring’s last rites
awaken sleeping appetites
we’ll give ourselves
we’ll give ourselves
and Autumn’s zenith expedite.
~Trijian Refrain~ (a fabulous form by Jan Turner)
From winter’s death comes spring’s new life,
when day equals the night.
The Lord returns to seek His wife,
our Goddess of light.
And breezes stir as life renews
across the land in vibrant hues,
and breezes stir,
and breezes stir,
the blossoming springtime views.
The dance of life, of stems and stalks
emerging from the land.
So life returns where Nature walks
and leaves Her loving hand.
Her Mother’s touch upon the Earth,
a spiritual rebirth,
Her Mother’s touch,
Her Mother’s touch,
we celebrate with joyous mirth.
As buds, begin to burst open
and leaves on trees unfurl,
in shallow lands and mountain glen
the feast is in full swirl.
The Goddess brings Her love today
Ostara blessings as we pray,
The Goddess brings,
The Goddess brings,
Her precious love to light our way.
Oh Maiden Moon, who gave my eyes,
in visions of a child,
the innocently whispered sighs
to keep my temper mild.
With waxing love, I saw you grow
the Goddess maid, of all I know,
with waxing love,
with waxing love,
a world of light you gently show.
Oh Mother Moon, who took my hand
and nurtured in my soul
the will to work and understand
in ways of old, I’m whole.
Oh blesséd Moon of perfect grace
within your light, I find my place,
Oh blesséd Moon,
Oh blesséd Moon,
with you, I stand in sacred space.
Oh Waning Moon, I’m blessed with age
your wisdom as my guide,
no words to tell upon the page
as mysteries confide.
Oh Lady Crone and queen of night,
advise my heart with ev’ry rite.
Oh Lady Crone,
Oh Lady Crone,
you fill my life with pure delight.
This shade of silence withers me
and prunes me back to white,
a near dead branch upon a tree
cast into long-bright nights.
The sun deceives, His face aglow
abreast the earth entombed with snow
the sun deceives
the sun deceives
the earth and everything below.
This shade of silence withers me,
a wound upon my soul
while Winter reigns o'er all that be
abandoned in the cold.
Such quiet seems the sound of death
as if no life were spared and left.
Such quiet seems
such quiet seems
to suckle at my lips, on breath.
This shade of silence withers me,
a haunting Winter hymn,
a saturating melody
that paints emotions dim.
It curls me up at every tip
and leaves icicles on my lips
it curls me up
it curls me up
until my heart feels like a crypt.
These winter weeds, they come alive
and seep in through my pores,
they dig through flesh, they dwell inside
and multiply by scores.
As vines lay bare 'round garden run
I curse the weakness of the sun
as vines lay bare
as vines lay bare
infectious shivers come undone.
These winter weeds, they come alive
and stretch from dusk to dawn-
perennial shadows, how they thrive
o'er achromatic yawns.
They breach my skin and stalk my bones
unearthing every warmth I've known
They breach my skin,
they breach my skin
and fall from eyes o'er all I own.
These winter weeds, they come alive
like worms that tunnel light.
I mourn all that could not survive
the hunger of the night;
it grows upon the hollowness
of sunshine steeped in sallowness
it grows upon
it grows upon
depressions empty, fallowness.
My sanity is stalked by dreams,
that catch behind my eyes
where light is scarce and I can't see
what's prophecy and lie.
The darkness comes, my heart forewarns,
through gates of Ivory and Horn
the darkness comes
the darkness comes
alive with empty, lightless storms.
My sanity is stalked by dreams,
of Gods with dripping wings
the edge of disappointment seems
to follow these twin kings.
Ere Sleep and Death make reckless flights
o'er all that lives and dies by night
ere sleep and death
ere sleep and death
race from a womb wounded by light.
My sanity is stalked by dreams
and shivers come undone
within the failing, feeble gleam-
the moon betrayed by sun.
In my nightscape all is disturbed,
the flow of life, the lilt of word
in my night-scape
in my night-scape
the voice of doubt is all that’s heard.
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