Tag Archives: reality

The Fall of Because: epilog

Of what’s been done, and heard, and seen,
one might well ask, “What does it mean,
that this and thus, in such a way
should through their actions in this play
express a meaning, none too clear,
expose a hidden weakness, fear,
and in absentia, second-hand
portray the worst or least in man:
the tendency to thoughtless act,
to find succor in faith, not fact,
and in the end, to just succumb
without a fight, struck deaf and dumb
by baffling bullshit strewn about
to fertilize the seeds of doubt
and fool even the wisest lot
into accepting what they’ve got
as the best way to run a thing,
and make the biggest fool their king?”

If that’s the king, then watch the knaves!
Observe the way the court behaves
when chaos in the castle breeds
a subterfuge that does not need
to hide its wretched plots at noon.
Beware! The end is coming soon;
and who is now called a buffoon
may turn to tyrant in a flash,
rewarding only those with cash
and sugared words upon their tongues.
What use then to be found among
brave souls for truth, or common sense?
That armor serves as poor defense
against the coming hateful rage
of those who cannot see the cage
outside the walls of the small cell
we think is the world where we dwell.

16 MAR 2017

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Fit to Print: englyn unodle crwca

What’s fit to print is not news.
Our bitter, contrary views
are merely stuff we seek to use as new fuel;
like fools, we think we choose

to fight false with what is true,
wielding light that will burn through
the lies and mad bugaboo everywhere.
Now there’s a hopeful coup.

Hopeful, but not meant to be.
The real world seeks symmetry
and balance, but will not be rushed ahead
or led like a pony.

No, to make news in these days,
one must seek out different ways.
To prove a thing, you must amaze the wild mob;
a big job with no praise.

15 MAR 2017

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What Happens Next

What makes reality
ever so puzzling
that vain attempting to
just pin it down
becomes a deception
ensnared in illusion,
naught but a fleeting smile
behind a frown?

What then of fantasy?

Will we think ecstasy
merely a distraction
from duty and will?

How can mere utility
evolve a society
whose fleeting passions live
only in dream?

What is reality?

Now and not yesterday,
wrapped in the presence of
what happens next.

13 MAR 2017

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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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Could be, perhaps, that nothing bad
has come to me in life;
or that which seems to others sad
and cause for care and strife

to me has been mere shadow’s play.
My days’ and night’s events
could look to some a grand array,
an endless stream of merriment

filled more with smiles than tears.
I’ve never struggled, you might chide,
in all my living years;
nor had look in from outside

while others shared the pot.
My ailments, those of wealthy men,
expensive tastes and rot;
a disappointing might-have-been

reduced by sloth and slack
to meaningless and endless work
that feeds neither the mind nor back,
creating a mere bitter jerk

who knows no more of love and loss
than what defines the words.
That poems like this I can toss
away in moments, seems absurd.

Could be, perhaps, no tragic tale
lies hidden in my smile;
Emotions? Fabricated veils
to mislead and beguile.

Could be, but you will never learn.
For all you’ll ever see
is what I throw away and burn:
my emptiness, not me.

30 MAY 2012

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The ears have it: a curtal sonnet

From eyesight, there are half a dozen words
that represent a myriad of lies.
The surface, then, is never proof enough;

relying on appearance is absurd.
It puts us in a world of slick disguise,
transmitting second-hand its show and bluff.

There are no such illusions from the ear:
with sound, we gather in, and become wise.
Discerning what is real is never tough;
the undertone is always sharp and clear

03 MAY 2011

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Like Syd Barrett

I feel like Syd Barrett in a fun-house mirror,
as if the rest of the world has gone crazy;
and what’s left of the light has crawled off in a hole
where it’s becoming bloated and lazy.

Like the tale of dervish whose well was untainted
when the water supply became changed,
and he looked on with horror as everything pure
became somehow sick and deranged;

and then in desperation, he took just one sip
of the nectar his neighbors preferred;
in less than an instant, he too was convinced
that his previous life was absurd.

I feel like Syd Barrett, left grasping the edge
of a dream cut from bright colored glass,
a puzzle of unfinished mirrors and fragments
for watching the circus march past.

27 NOV 2007

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