rant street crazy

daylight robbery,

that’s what they done to me

and daylight isn’t all they took,

they steal the words right out of my mouth,

the thoughts right out of my head.

they keep on telling me i’ll be free

only when i give up my liberty.

they want to take the breath from my body,

the sound from my ear, they interfere!

they even want to change the brain waves in my brain

and keep drumming in again and again

jingle, jingle, that old refrain,

that i never need think for myself again

till i still look just the same,

but i may really be one of them so watch out..

they keep on telling me how lucky i am

as they take the water from the palm of my hand

sweeten poison colour and put it in a can

and sell that water back to me

that water which used to flow free.

that water which used to flow free.

that water which used to flow free.

they take the ground from under my feet,

put a fence around it and shut me out;

they try to steal my heart,

say i’m better off without it,

say i won’t even feel it

say i never need feel a thing again –

say if i don’t shut it they’ll crush it,

tell me there is no redress,

this is progress!

we better wake up before too late

or the daylight robbers will get the lot.

they get their lawyers to keep us from suing them,

and the crimes they commit they keep on doing them,

and try to get us to sing along with them.

they’re changing the climate with our assistance

eating up the world with too little resistance.

you wait till the day dawns

when they sell you back to yourself

but new and improved, and you buy that one.

first they take away memory

and then they rewrite history,

first they take away memory

and then they rewrite history….

just you forget, don’t you fret,

just plug yourself in

switch yourself on

who needs memory

when you must consume to be,

when to consume is to be free?

they want our compliance

not our defiance,

and if we don’t shut ourselves up,

they’ll do it for us,

take special powers to keep us quiet;

now any spontaneity they call a riot –

sh, just keep watching the war on tv,

the war they say they’re fighting for you and me;

so long as there’s a war they’re happy

quick quick find an enemy,

get those weapons ready.

wake up, wise up, read between the lines;

when they say you’re out of your mind

be sure you’re getting near the truth;

use your madness as your sleuth;

what we got to practice is resistance

in that resistance we need persistence

for that persistence we need resistance –

resistance, persistence, persistence, resistance.

rise up, find your place,

rise up, take your space,

rise up, sing your song,

give what you are, know you belong,

take only what you need and sing that song,

sing, sing, sing that song.

love song

longing to find the object of this love that burns in me,

restlessly i reach out, seeking what calls me;

small though i am, this love is so vast, this longing so great

i can hardly eat or breathe for the strength of the yearning within me.

i search in the mountains and gorges, on sea-strands and cliff tops,

in forests and plains, along rivers from sources to deltas,

among the myriad grass blades and leaf forms in a hunger of longing,

down on the sea beds i wonder at the strangeness i find there,

and i gaze on the clouds that constantly change in constant inconstancy,

and still there is love left that longs for a beloved.

i marvel at the coat of the leopard, the wrinkles of the elephant,

the form of the runner, the hunter, the stalker, dance of hunter and hunted,

eye of eagle, nostril of vulture, ear of fruit bat,

cry of tiger, song of gibbon, colour of a flock of macaws,

voice of the whale, intent of the ant and the termite, cunning of the orchid,

knowledge of nestbuilding, instinct for flight and direction,

bodies of great trees branching high into aerial pathways,

the lean of the leaf to the sun, the twist of the tendril in motion

that turns like cloud spirals, rain rising and falling in love with the sun.

i watch flocks flexing in flight, remembering migration, fish swarming and spawning,

male seahorse in labour with the moon, jetting forth miniature offspring,

the billions of bees and their dancing, the hosts of the human. –

then i see it’s the earth herself i love, her full self, her round being,

this is what i long to embrace, and as i think it,

she floats clear in my passionate imagining, a breathing jewel, and i see

how night and day flow over her lands and her oceans,

the ripple of her mountains, her blue ocean trenches

and all her directions, north to the north pole till north becomes south,

east to the sunrise and west to its setting as east becomes west and west east,

and i love every arc of her endless horizons,

going over each part of her body,

tracing lines of migration and change on her skin.

i am carried in the roaring winds that circle her south pole,

resistlessly carried in her cold ocean currents, heavy with abundance of life,

thrown up on her shores, drawn back to her depths,

caught in the race of her tides from moon ebb to full,

till i enter the secret succession of the slowest of growth,

living crystal histories matured to perfection in the veins of the rocks

in the time before time, measured only in the decay of uranium.

i return to her lapfuls of islands rooted in her sea beds

with their auras of wavelines in infinite gradations of blue

till they end in foam in her tide pools, her reefs and lagoons,

breaking endlessly on her infinite shorelines.

now she swims out complete and alone in her membrane of water,

emerging by the smallest of margins into life in all its diversity,

so i cry out in one breath so simple, so complex,

so full of infinities, so fragile and finite,

so finely poised in the tension of living and dying,

so absolute, so contingent, so balanced, yet between such extremes.

and now that my love has found its beloved,

i recapitulate mineral thoughts, single celled intensity,

bivalve persistence, amphibian ambivalence, lizard insight, all that we’ve grown through

in order to praise the unfathomable beauty of my beloved

till i end as this being and transform again

to whatever this matter may dance into next,

grieving that only the human forgets where its true love lies,

for even the earthworm has its own forms of worship,

and i thought of the final emergence of the curious and dexterous,

the gossiping humans, careless trustee of the jewel that wears them.

great fertile shadow of being, in the darkness of potential

you were already here, life giver, life taker, mother of emptiness

and overflowing, mother of earthquakes and storms, maker, unmaker.

i ride on your back round the sun, gazing about me

at the splendid company with which we journey,

most indulged, most indulgent and dangerous of children

who long to deny we are linked by a life chord

to our parent of parents, as we struggle with darkness and light.

my love is too large for me, it overflows me and bathes me,

this love is your love for me, i do not contain, you contain me,

i am lost in you, bathed in the warmth of your vast embrace.

Oak

Let me reach inside that word,

smell the powdering rot at your ancient heart,

feel the sinewy grasp of your living bark,

roots grappling the ground, your twisted grace.

The counsel you offer is far from human,

your heart beats slow, your skin reflects the turbulence

of ancient fields of force, the energy

of this creative universe.

Now all your former spread has shrunk

into this mighty stunted trunk, which leans,

is full of shadows.  You’re slow to leaf,

But the crumpled green gold still uncurls against your rough skin.

Let me reach inside your name, let the word

reverberate, strong as rock, the sound of standing long,

of roots that reach deep, so your name speaks

the sound of when the wind wrenches,

but knowledge much deeper than the moment

keeps you steady, although the road runs close,

its tawdry restlessness shown up by your presence;

our temporary chatter hardly ruffles

your millennial meditation;

You have never forgotten what you are.

Urban Moon

I see her just rising full above the low houses

and my heart catches hold of her

like an amulet you might keep in your pocket

and caress for comfort, old, well loved, familiar.

She comes with me on my lone and jolting journey

on the empty stinking top deck.

I lose her but she comes back over my shoulder,

companionable, playful, gone again; and there she is,

this time to my right, moving magnificently on ahead

as we pitch over the crest of a hill,

and the bus teeters dangerously towards her.

She remains steady above this crumbling labyrinth of streets,

swerving lights, mad repetition, where everywhere

is still the same lost place.

She is my sole companion; watching her,

I think of all the others who steady themselves

by her full light, return to themselves in her,

she who is born and dies each month,

tugging the waters into rise and fall,

pulling at the seed’s dark heart, the heart of time,

the ever falling and unfolding flower.