The World is Broken: skeltonics

The world is broken;
Cassandras have spoken
their tales of woe.
Let teardrops flow;
and as fear grows,
watch kindness dry
and those who try
to counter lies
with trust and truth
lose friends and youth.
As our illusions
die, confusion
fills our dreaming,
leaves us scheming
more on winning,
our minds spinning
to control
mind, body, soul,
and seek no answers.
We are dancers
in a maelstrom;
there is no music
left while we lose it,
no symphony for cursing
the headache we’re not nursing.
What good is more nay-saying?
What is this game we’re playing?
The world’s not slowing;
we’re not growing.
No point guessing
where we’re going.
You have to choose
to win AND lose.

30 MAY 2017

It Is Their Flag: roundelay

Almost in spite, some fools seem to keep trying.
They seek a balance where mad chaos reigns;
they fight for life, despite death’s constant sighing,
giving their all for sake of what remains.
It is their flag that in the dark stays flying,
and puts self-serving cowardice to shame.

They fight for life despite death’s constant sighing,
giving their all for sake of what remains.
With courage and resolve near mystifying,
in ignorance of weariness or pain,
it is their flag that in the dark stays flying,
and puts self-serving cowardice to shame.

With courage and resolve near mystifying,
in ignorance of weariness and pain,
they sacrifice themselves; and in their dying,
release the world from its enslaving chains.
It is their flag that in the dark stays flying,
and puts self-serving cowardice to shame.

They sacrifice themselves, and in their dying,
release the world from its enslaving chains,
for future generations, signifying
the truth it is important to retain.
It is their flag that in the dark stays flying,
and puts self-serving cowardice to shame.

12 MAY 2017

The Threshing Floor: englyn cyrch

Give an answer, if you can,
where doubts plague each fighting man
weighting healthy action down
and distracting from good plans;

where blind fear is laying waste
to fresh brick and mortar paste
shielding helpless, sick and poor,
from the pike and bonfire’s baste;

where to live alone is brave,
which makes heroes from mere knaves
who seek glory for all time
in some lines from poet slaves;

where faith falters, and belief
in war’s leaders and great chiefs
leads to slaughter fresh new lambs
who learn firsthand of despair;

where if love is found at all,
it kneels at the wailing wall
and drags on through endless hours
hoping honor breaks its fall;

’til what lives to fight once more,
taught to win despite the score,
lays its weapons down and dies,
chaff dropped on the threshing floor.

06 MAR 2017

Glory Evermore: dirge

With slow and silent steps it comes
encroaching on the day,
the shadow of the night that grows
to fill the world with gray.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

War on its march to midnight turns
our grays to darkest black
as on a path to nothingness
it leads us ever back.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

Replace all love with mindless fear,
and on that slippery slope
disguise all lies as honesty
and destroy morning’s hope.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

Hear now the muffled sound of drums,
come through the morning mist,
its slow parade of death designed
to fool those who resist:
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

Come, make believe that victory
through violence makes for right,
that wealth creates nobility,
who pay others to fight.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

Believe that those who sign the orders
seek a better way,
that those who hold the rifles
will all see the light of day.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

War does not make a difference,
with its patriotic zeal;
or make the steam that blows the whistle
ever turn the wheel.
Oh, come and join the battle, child,
for glory evermore.

27 FEB 2017

Random Theory: cyhydedd naw ban

No bright, bleeding edge technology
can by itself inspire us to see
beyond the limitations that bind
us to solutions posed by old minds,
gurus and mentors with rigid ways,
and coaches still running ancient plays.

The revolution cannot be fought
using hackneyed strategy still taught
in broken and ineffective schools,
who at best offer us simple tools.
We need to seek beyond the hammer;
relearn to speak using new grammar.

But in the end, no shortcut or device
grants understanding of work, or price,
nor strips away a rigid mindset;
artificial means are not there yet.
What must be done requires human acts
that integrate ideas and facts,
creating blueprints for the future, now,
out of something unknown, new, somehow.

To that creation, our tools and toys
may add flash, bells, whistles, and some noise
as mere ways for focusing the brain.
Our duty to thinking must remain
so that the choices we weigh and rank
leave in their outcomes, ourselves to thank.

And revolution, if it then comes,
some fresh distribution of stale crumbs
amongst the cannon fodder still here?
How it will change the world is unclear.
The only certainty is still death;
the randomness of life is what’s left.

16 FEB 2017

Imagining the Cost: common measure

For those hard up against the wall,
imagining the cost
they pay for each small victory,
compared to what is lost,

when those who may yet stand
refuse and meekly kneel,
or worse, just fold their praying hands
against reason’s appeal,

may be the hardest part.
What honor is enough,
to heal such wounds as these,
succor the sterner stuff,

when those you fight to free:
the so-called meek and mild,
deride your vanity
and chide you as a child

to put away your swords,
and fight no more anon,
since all that’s clean and good
has long been dead and gone.

13 FEB 2017

Battle Positions: casbairdne

Assume battle positions:
each gun states its conditions
for damning to perdition
those it slams with derision.

The war horns sound, confounding
the loud screams, so dumbfounding,
as drums and jackboots pounding
start death’s song wild resounding.

The chaos, so deceiving!
What valorous achieving
can come from man’s believing
that battle’s won by grieving.

1 FEB 2017