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History

HISTORY

An empty cocoon
Abandoned, decays slowly
Its job accomplished

Cathedral

CATHEDRAL

How wonderful this architecture
Down the centuries enduring
Inspiring, heartening, overawing
Expensive though these cathedrals
In more than market value terms
And still begging for more if you please
Cath as in cathedral not cathar – no thank you
Indoctrinating generation after generation

How wonderful this architecture
As Europe some kind of torchbearer
Enduring both they and we
Inspired, heartened, overawed
Its worshippers trailing in the dust
Each down our allotted years
Striding, limping, tottering
Let massacre surround us

How wonderful this architecture
How romanesque the sleight of hand
Preaching persecution and crusade
Tolling for privilege, for tithe, for death for heresy
Cleaving definitive paths, signposts
This Way Heaven; Purgatory; Hell
Servants or sinners, sheep or goats
How few left any monument, mark

Dover Beach

DOVER BEACH – Matthew Arnold (Published 1867)

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

DOVER BEACH – The Fugs (Released 1967)

Backstory

BACKSTORY

She had tattoos, she said
I’d have to pay to see
But then I’m miserly
Rather squeamish besides

Paradigm Paradox

PARADIGM PARADOX

Up where we truly live
Time and space are phantoms
What we do; what we say
Already history

String Of Lights (30c)

STRING OF LIGHTS

Uniting
Poets illumine
Your dark night
Of the soul
Passing the torch down the years
Lightening the load

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

The Wound We Wind

THE WOUND WE WIND

Round and round we wind
The wound we wound around us
Tight in our own grasp
History is history
The present we give ourselves

The Next (Goose) Step

THE NEXT (GOOSE) STEP

The “top” one per cent
Terrified, naturally
Of those they exploit

Their diagnosis?
Organised supervision
i.e.: police state

The Cuckoo

THE CUCKOO

Alarm bell rings out
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!

Knowing onlookers
(Programmed so to do)
Pity these deaf parents
Puzzled yet obeisant

Watching their progeny
Thrown overboard
By this guzzling
Immigrant

No one though pities
The cuckoo’s offspring
Motherless, abandoned
Left to fend for itself

Still there’s always poetry
As there’re always poets
Who never quite fitted in
Left casting their pallid light

And treating Spell Check
As a servant rather than a god

Last Chance Saloon

LAST CHANCE SALOON

Believe it or not
This is where we ended up
After all that past

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