Tag Archives: inevitability

No End of Days

The world has not yet made its final twirl
around a sun still managing to burn;
the seasons, although changed somewhat of late,
continue with their ceaseless promenade.

Both wise and foolish prattle on no end,
with new results no different from before;
the civilized maintain the status quo
their barbarous ancestors stumbled on.

The end of days is always almost here;
soothsayers find new suckers without fail.
The young, in spite of things, still become old
and stop all their pretending at some point.

So put away those funeral shrouds for now.
There will be no apocalypse this week.

16 MAY 2016

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No Surprise This Morning: an alba or aubade

That morning comes again is no surprise;
the laws of physics have not been withheld,
nor has the motion of the planets, if
those laws are merely whims, been held at bay.
No vengeful demons or vain deities
have paused the world in darkness for their play.

No, the edge of space where I sit has again
been turned and tilted to its burning star;
while elsewhere on the globe, lights flicker out
and someone borrows my fear of the night
(which is not trepidation of mere dark,
but rather, the unknown outside the cave
[or box, as we prefer to call it now,
since we are civilized a thousand-fold]
that waits for us, like some divine pop quiz
on that damned chapter we forgot to read).

So, morning comes again; and every time,
despite all evidence to prove it will,
and though our own experience and sense
would tend to ease our worry on this tack,
yet we stand dumb still, starstruck at the sight,
in shock that our blind faith
caused it to be.

04 AUG 2006

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After Our Summer is Gone

Just because we stop, the world
does not see fit to up and quit:
although we think our present season
the focus of the universe.

Just because our silicon
has returned back to native dust,
and what we’ve turned with artists’ hands
from ore to sculpture soon is rust.

The chlorophyll, almighty green
that courses wild through our bloodstream:
when it has drained away what soul
we once possessed, who will control

the world that constant, presses on
and throws its earth upon the graves
of king and peasant, saint and knave,
who build, discard, then too are gone?

31 JAN 2005

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The Wheel

Some men stand tall, some men feel
Some men show signs, some conceal
Train is rolling, iron and steel
Steam that blows the whistle never turns the wheel.

Some men make plans, some men deal
Some men kick out, some men kneel
Highway’s burning, oil and steel
Steam that blows the whistle never turns the wheel.

Some men destroy and some men heal
Some men build up, some men steal
Trouble’s boiling, blood and steel
Steam that blows the whistle never turns the wheel.

Some men save life, some men kill
Some men won’t cry, some men will
World is turning, earth and steel
Steam that blows the whistle never turns the wheel.

1998

A Real Audio version can be found HERE.

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Changing the World

If I say I want to change the world

without asking first its permission
without asking the right questions
without first accepting my limitations
without wondering about my own role
without looking beyond my own hard science
without recognizing the status quo
without battling my own personal demons
without watching first, and listening
without staking my reputation
without risking seeming foolish
without figuring out what I am willing to die for
without doubting my own abilities
without seeing the possibility of loss
without shaking the roots of my faith
without wanting to be amused
without having second thoughts
without giving up what this world gives me
without reaching beyond my grasp
without rejecting some kind of immortality
without changing myself

what kind of revolutionary am I?

Only in a world that needs changing so desperately,
it clings to any prop, regardless of whether or not that prop may float
where those who populate that world
do not ask those questions of themselves,
without my prompting,
would such a revolutionary be followed.
I would not follow them, myself.

In that kind of world, there is no revolution,
only the illusion of rebellion,
a paper tiger tossed by an apathetic hand
into the glowing embers
of the same old song and dance.

How many revolutionaries does it take to change a light bulb?
One, if the light bulb wants to be changed.

22 AUG 2003

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