this past century -
looks ahead to the next
(this text made (& remade)
but first to define the '90s
RADIO WAVES & 'The Flying Quill'!..
breaking a no-credit rule: Thanx for flying CoSmoc & special
thanx to Dwarf Data
and breaking again thanx to the author of this next bit:
about system
NIGHTWALKERS
Dawn it breaks,
And our city wakes
With gusto it shakes
And the shackles break.
The nighttime fades
Becomes distant…
Perception altered we wander
Lost souls within the cycle they call life.
Once the sun has risen
The stymied battle
Starts anew and
Belligerence ensues…
We fight the system
To test it
We conform to non-conformity
And all the while, we detest it.
We want to rebel,
But we take great pains to hide
- without taking sides
Our improbable creation, our living Hell.
We cannot hide for
Our shadows betray us
With their sharp outlines
And their need to trail behind.
What is it behind that façade,
That we try so hard to veil?
We've got bones beneath our skin,
But what lurks behind the eyes?
Pen pushers unite,
We bottle and shelve our hearts and desires
And prioritise with senseless sensibility
So we can sweat and stay out of sight.
The sun it fades,
Bleeding myriad colours into the sky,
We start to leave our inhibitions behind
Cruel day gives way to loving night.
And in your warmth we bask
Wrapped in your hundred arms,
We smile and sigh
And succumb to all your charms.
You entice us with lavish laughter,
And while we sit under your starlit sky
Debating the inconsequentiality of life
You watch over us as you shape shift.
The night fades and few of us realise,
That we simultaneously create and destroy.
You are content to watch us initiate our own undoing
As we discard our hopes in patchwork fields like mutilated rag dolls.
J.R. Mostert
Waiting for the tide to make around
Before this vessel runs aground
Wishing for a sun-lit avenue
Where i can always walk with you.
Newton's laws do keep me here
Though i really have no fear
Of rats and mice and crawly things
Of cadmium, cabbages & kings.
I'm sitting in a strange apartment
At the local police department
Without mod cons nor colour TV
Jest a table chair and me.
Of the following two anonymous poems, the first comments on the programmes
of land enclosures in England and elsewhere in the 17th and 18th centuries
in which rich people managed to get to own common land previously used
by all those who were living in the village.
The law's an ASS
That she may sentence pass
On he who takes the goose from off the common
But sets the greater villain loose
who steals the common from off of the goose
=========
In Gotham once the Story goes
A set of Wise-acres arose
Skill'd in the great Politic Wheel
Could pound a Magpie, drown an Eel
With many things of worthy Note
At present far too much to quote
Their District was both Far and Wide
Which not a little swell'd their Pride
But above all that they possessed
Was a fine Goose by all confessed
A RARA AVIS to behold
Who laid each day an Egg of Gold
This made them grow immensely rich
Gave them an avaritious Itch
The Case belongs to many more
They not contented with their Store
Would Methods vague and strange pursue
To make the Harmless Bird lay TWO
This glorious Purpose to obtain
About her Neck they put a Chain
And more their Folly to complete
They stampt upon her Wings and Feet
But this had no effect at all
Yet made her Struggle Flutter, Squall
And do as any Goose would do
Who had her Lliberty in view
When One of more distuinguish'd Note
Cried D*** her Let's cut her Throat
They did, yet not an Egg was found
But Blood came pouring from the Wound
The above poem appeared as a mezzoprint in America between (i believe 1774 and 1776). U.S. Library of Congress.
the Owl
A wise old owl sat in a tree
The more she heard, the less she said
The less she said, the more she heard
Why can't we all be like this bird?
The Tiger by William Blake 1794
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And, when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tiger, tiger burning bright
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Cheshire Cat
Oh i would be a Cheshire cat
& what would people think of that?
With that big wide famous smile
i'm gently disappearing all the while...
Advice
Good Advice is dear
Poor Advice is hard to tell apart
Honest Advice is clear
Follow Advice from your own 'Art.
And then finally the very Last Poem
A message from your steward
Welcome to the World
Enjoy your Life
Live as you may
Die with Dignity