Tag Archives: battle

The World is Full of Magic: carole

Though some now say it comes to nil
The world is full of magic still

The end is nigh, soothsayers scry,
and from their parapets do cry
“Beware the evil that draws nigh!” –
though some now say it comes to nil.

The world is cracked and folding in
upon itself, and in the din
one barely hears the voice within:
the world is full of magic still!

But those who stand, in spite of fear
of loss of life and that held dear
sing out their songs, so loud and clear,
though some now say it comes to nil.

Excelsior! and “Forward, Ho!”
Against the grain, and tides, we go,
what weapons work, we cannot know;
the world is full of magic still

At some near point along the path
the bards may scribe our epitaph;
so fill the world up with our laugh,
though some may say it comes to nil

Reality is what we make;
there is no permanent mistake.
It matters not which path we take,
the world is full of magic still

Though some now say it comes to nil
The world is full of magic still

31 JAN 2017

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The World Begins: bob and wheel

Today the world begins or ends;
we celebrate both birth and death,
and in between, our lives stretch on
in days and nights all much the same.
Who is to blame?
Some fools would blame the child,
while others seek the cause
among the sick, defiled,
and dying who create our laws.

What is the truth we seek to find?
Some reason that our side is right,
to justify our lust and greed
and bathe ourselves in light.
But what is right?
No system forms its cage,
no moral code defines its bounds.
Not boundless joy nor rage
can claim what is not found.

The world transforms from night to day;
we bask in light or hide in shade.
In neither state do we reflect
a righteous sense of purpose.
Are we then worthless?
What use is thinking so?
While there is breath, take air
and seek out those who throw
their lot with you, out there.

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Mere Words

Are they still weapons, these mere words
we use to crystallize what thoughts
may form at random in our heads
or like to squeeze out for some end,
a worthy cause we would advance,
a blessing, curse or snare of love,
some cleverness sure to impress
or at least baffle for a time?
How everyone is armed these days!
It takes so little effort now
to build an arsenal behind
a screen of anonymity.

There are more poets, it would seem,
than there are fishes in the sea,
more than the stars out there in space,
more now than ever were before,
and each would wield a sacred sword
to cut away the rotted flesh
and free the suffocating soul
so it may somehow serve the world;
and everyone assumes their blade
will make the most important cut,
remove the cancer, scour the wound
and make the body pure again.

There is no end to such deceit:
that words alone can change the world,
that careless phrases in the void
transform some evil into good
by virtue of their worth alone,
or by some miracle subdue
the brute force that enslaves the world
and makes it blind and deaf;
while everyone pretends they hear,
that they are the sole conduit
by which the universe declares
itself, and by that act, survives.

They may be weapons, but what use
are words in such unthinking hands
that would destroy to somehow build
a world that values their intent.
Just how will some mere phrases turn
the tide of angry sentiment
that grows against the use of thought
and would devour diversity,
while everyone, in pantomime,
acts out some peaceful, loving role
without believing it themselves?
What good can such words do?

30 APR 2013

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