Sunday, September 17, 2006
Laughing at your God?
Mocking your Prophet?
Calling him names?
Saying you’re insane?
Trying to unpick history
Trail the bloody legacy
Massaging facts and memory
Along this sorry road.
Things that were ever misunderstood
Can’t just be left to gain
A little mutual respect
Everything you want, you want to direct
And trample in some Holy name.
So how we accommodate?
Share this strange planet
Or get along at all.
Any way we play
It seems it’s got to be your ball,
Your nice round ball,
Or there is no game at all.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Yeah, Viva Maria and all that stuff...
The Last Days of August
Sitting under the porch in the watery sun
Feeling like Steve McQueen, his life’s work done
Feeling my age creeping through to my bones
Staring at the grass, staring alone.
These are the last days and less time to breathe
I should take more care, I should eat more greens
I should gather together all the smithereens
I should take all the advice from the lessons I should’ve learned
And put it all somewhere, somewhere useful, somewhere outside my head.
Put things in their proper place, instead of thinking them,
Spit out the words instead of drinking them,
And lay me down, untidy
Like a bed unmade, or song unplayed
Like a sentence delayed, some garment frayed.
For you I’ll allow a glimpse into my soul,
See, hear and feed and then nudge the controls,
Staying and playing when our energies return
When these times pass to memory, a beginning will come....
Viva Maria. Viva Maria.