End of a Day

A day comes to its end again
And now it’s time to work the doleful pen
Whether the malaise of a child
Or crowds running wild
The words are never short
This is a fearful sport

The melancholia of music conducts a draft
Of libretti, whilst I sit on this sinking raft
Not even the darkness can hide
The truth, for it’s reach is far too wide
So here comes the sorry story
In it there is no glory

The morning broke afore the light
For me the commencement of my day was night
It seems not even the splendour of the rays
Would materialise to avert the awakening of a critic’s gaze
And there was an immediate reason for my pen to shed blood
The devil, on my very head he stood

What news of slaughter or of famine to whet my appetite
What could be better to examine, careful lest it bite
For morning tunes are misleading
Only serving to delay the bleeding
And once the blue blood makes to start
Caution to the wind and with the words depart

So into the day I came
Another, but not the same
For this was tempered by the drug of sleep
Not efficacious in the night but for now to keep
Massaging with a hand so divine
I might imagine that the touch was mine

Nevertheless my duty was to record
As much gore and misery as I could afford
And there was no shortage for to please
As soldiers, babies, innocents fell to their knees
Imploring with their outstretched arms
That I must diligently record their harms

And so, I tell you, raise all hell in streets
Describe, as I do here, each time a tyrant beats
Make images resound and sounds for imagination to never sleep
Do as I say, lest complacency your fate shall reap
The very agonising experience your fellow humankind does feel
For this is not some dream or mirage, this is real

The day was long and as always grey
Even when the sun does shine, it alone can never clear the way
We and only we are able to make good
To do as righteous men and women should
Take heart though, there is movement in the shade
For even from shadows are souls made

Where did the phrases go, the page might well be blank
Was this a trick of time, a nefarious prank
When I woke, intentions were to solve
The troubles of the world, the human mind evolve
Yet here I sit, merely transcribing verses that are bespoke
Whilst officialdom still has its hands around my neck to choke

And what of you
Or did no reader have the will to chew
These fleeting words, then spit them on the fire
Of vengeance, rebellion, shouting from the spire
My hope is that one set of eyes did read
Result of which this mutiny shall feed

©27th November 2011 Hey Hey

All We Have

All I want to do
is to see the buds unfold
and know I lived another year.
For time is all we have;
not continually as in dreams,
but within this small fragment of forever,
given through grace of being.
Not to understand;
rather to explore
and to empathise,
simply with the way things are.

Looking upon the sky,
I see all I need to know.
Whether in the time of day,
with the clarity of blue
or abstract folds of white.
Else when the sun has past
and celestial acquaintances
beckon surreptitious glances,
lest their secrets be revealed.
For time is all we have
and this is that time.

©2011 Hey Hey

Poème

a tale of trouble
that bursts the bubble
and woe
you know
the kind where
the lover’s tiff
or a dampened spliff
makes days away
too sad to stay

then a dream to comfort me
perspectives to see

a poème for all time
or merely rhyme
to save a soul
take a part and make it whole
but then comes the thought
and once again it’s caught
in a world of word
that is so absurd

how does a communiqué
pave the way
how does prose
show one knows

©2011 Hey Hey

2exist

is life an existential twist
i think therefore am i deceived
do you, or even i, exist
what is out there, how is it perceived

is existence, or non-existence, real
in the mirror, who looks back at the homunculus
does he know how I feel
are there actually only pebbles or really calculus

is sleep the examination to pass before death
halfway between this world and no other
does life stop between each taken breath
how many lives is foetus in mother

to exist is to know that all is unknown
to exist is to recognise that each is alone

©2006 Hey Hey