Who are we? What are we but
Small men? How can we lay claim
To the grace of God, above
All other things? I am no greater
Than the least of you, nor am I
More enchanted by the ways of
Life and love itself.
But I am humble in my humility,
Strong in my weakness,
Open and able, ready to
Take my place in the ways
Of all there is.
Who are you to choose otherwise?
Who are you to walk a new path?
Where were you when these
Words were spoken, these ideas
Spilt forth like blood on the sands?
Carry your impotent pride, your
Detestable nature, lay it at the
Feet of your blind idols,
Protest the truth and
Attest the falsehoods you so eagerly embrace.
I am not here to wait for you,
I am not here to show you the way;
You move your own feet, you
Level your own ground. You
Lay your own roots, and you
Lay them deep.
We are not men of aid or compassion,
We are not men of guilt or regret;
Strive to move forward, rid yourself of
Chains and shackles.
Come forth and bask
In the light of the sun,
Like small men.

He thinks himself a learned man,
And through vain accounts, he is right.
Though his youthful grin may betray
A naive grasp of a wider world,
He leaps forth from bounds of youth
With utmost vigour.
He is a captain among boys,
A soldier among men,
An armchair general in ambition, but
Not without dirt on his sleeves.

It is harder to remember you now,
Not your face, nor your name;
Such things are on record, made permanent
By words and lines on faded page,
But who you were, why we were,
Where the journey ended and
What became of the little pleasure we had.

You were as wind to sail,
Music to rhyme,
Effervescent, a talisman against a
Black world. I am bereft, shallow,
Alone, brought to my broken knees
With the knowledge, the taste of
A life to be lived absent you.

Oh! a cry so plain it
Scarcely leaves our lips.
We begin plotting lines
To sad refrain. Excise
All rights to light and life,
Still,
Quietly laying bare our
Failed plans, our lost paths;
Our mortal enemy, our
Only friend. She who
Dances outside the realm
Of our gaze, who plays
Silent melodies on broken
Keys, songs we know but are
Disallowed to sing.
She cares not
For lament or plea, she
Who fuels our fire;
She, misery.

Tell me all about your silent questions,
The images of life you fail to lose.
Talk about the long and rambling lessons,
The heartless anguish placed in front of you.
I've been down to beggar's end within a
Minute of exertion; I've been
Stripped apart by vagabonds with
Gloves made out of gold. I have
Walked across the valley with a
Donkey on my back, and I can
Tell a thousand stories that should
Never have been told.

Images and photographs of madness,
Lines of black and white, depicting grey.
What your eyes have seen, no-one could fathom,
What you can recall, no-one could say. I have
Seen a row of palisades de-
Fending empty spaces; I have
Witnessed refugees campaign for
Rights they've always had. I have
Seen the towns of concrete turn in-
To a sea of snow, and I have
Seen into the blackened souls of
All the nation's glad.

Resonate with life's emphatic madness,
The tinkering of bells and measured weights.
The litany of lives you have encountered,
Obituary passages await.
I'll recite the speeches made from mounts of
Manufactured diamonds, I'll re-
Late the frenzied feeding of a
Thousand hungry birds. I can
Tell a story resolute and
Free from tailors' hands, but they run
Few and far between, and they have
Apathetic words.

What about the men who walked beside you,
The ones you passed on roads of blackened glass.
The faces you have coloured in your libraries,
The memories of people that don't last? I have
Met a thousand socialites with
Blood upon their dresses, I have
Knelt with sullen faces in the
Shadow of the flag. I have
Studied with a poet, but I
Never saw his face, and I have
Met a thousand children living
Out of plastic bags.

Tell me where your path leads from this moment;
The journey that awaits beyond my door.
Imagine all the roads you may encounter,
The choices you can make, or else ignore. I will
See the face of tyranny with
Holes within its pockets, I will
Cast my piece of gravel with the
Millions I can't see. I will
Watch as boundaries fall, and new ones
Spring up in their wake, and I will
Reminisce on times I never
Witnessed, when we're free.

I will
Stand without a hesitation,
Free from selfish doubts, and I will
Point my finger proudly at the
Ones we've singled out. I will
Ride the waves of emerald wastes, be-
Reft of shallow waters, and I
Challenge all who hear me to ex-
Plain what it's about.

Was out past Southend,
about eleven thirty five,
Saw a whole troop of girls,
dancing very much alive;
I struggled to my feet,
slapped a smile across my face,
Turned my sallow gaze
toward their alcoholic grace.
I said "evening ladies," and
I just tipped my hat, but
Hell, no sorry luck for this
shabby-legged cat. They ascer-
Tained a certain thought and
laughed into the night,
Quite the effervescent attitude
for the solemn moonlight. So with no
Pennies in my cap despite my
earnest little ditty, I just got
Right back on the train and rode it
straight into the city.
The conductor with his cyanide in
silver coated capsules, takes a
Tricolor mandolin and
plays it to relax you. A
Beggar on the chairs emitting
insight by the glass, and a
Banker saying prayers for our
little midnight mass. Be-
Spoke attire from far away to
dress your tired frame, and a
Medal and a badge with which to
decorate your name.
Tracks of steel and sterling pounds to
take you where you please, with
Speed unwavered, flying through with
masochistic ease. I got my
Map and made it through, to
Angel up on high,
Got off the train in pouring rain,
with nurses passing by.