When the beat of the drum becomes a banging and frontlines full of dead men left hanging, let’s raise white flags, redraw maps and decide unstable future’s by inequitable divide
Wheels forever turn Bloods boil and burn Guns forever bang Repeat sturm und drang
Are we the baddies? You’d better believe it We’ve been found out even by our friends They finally saw through the lies we told As we manipulated them for our own ends
Are we the baddies? But we were told The world only wants what we can give And our freedom and democracy Is what they all needed to live
Are we the baddies? Oh we surely are Slowly our friends left our sinking ship Despite a desperate clinging on to hope We’ve slowly been losing our grip
The wise sage, somewhat cynical Knows what to say and when The optimist, still straight and clinical Is in trouble with words again
Yet when the time came to inspire The sage’s words fell short Because one’s dreams also require Revision to what has been taught
Maybe the fire inside was unseen So the sage had to be let go Not understanding what it would mean To be held back by what one would know
Inspired by a newsletter from Daivd Elikwu about the dangers of role models and my own experience I am currently revisiting from 2020 with my then role model, George.
I recall the forests walked in winters Kings Copse and Queens Copse Muddied paws, misty views Foreboding darkness within Fresh pine beds for love’s liaisons Illicit affairs away from spies Let’s hope no one else is walking their dogs Wet nose Surprise!
Shared with dVerse MTB: An Etheree Tree and inspired my explorations in my youth where I would often walk our dog or just go exploring for fun. Sometimes, with my first girlfriend and hidden deep within the dark confines of the forest, we would lay down on the soft pine needle bed. Queen’s Copse is a pine forest and King’s Copse is an oak forest. There are not many pictures from this area and the one above doesn’t really show just how dark it was inside, just a few feet away from the track. No light was getting in there.
A varied melancholy, pulsating darkness Even though full and flourished Despite outward appearance and circumstances Darkness wills to be nourished
Untended beds, fallow of seed Indisposition of the spirit The lack of meaning we all need Only if willing to hear it
Acknowledge the ineffable, under cover Unmeasurable, outside the rational Keep the devils at bay, from taking over Connect the universal truths eternal
It’s a splendid winter wood – On a chilly December morning – – The crunchy road straight – – Towards the gnarly wooden gate – Unhinged a snowy warning Where splendid walls once stood
It’s a splendid moss a-growing – To shade this dewy frost – – Ray’s barely breaking through – – Another turn remained true – At a further year’s cost Awaiting the splendid summer’s glowing
1994ever 