and did those feet

my feet have known the streets each long hot mile

the greyish dust has sunk into each toe

there's not a corner that i did not know

but i have not been back there a long while

i've not forgotten places on the isle

where in my youth i used to have to go

in a warm time when life was soft and slow

and what concerned us most were form and style

so much recalled yet so much that must count

in a new age when time has outreached rope

so that we find our feet have travelled far

from where each started on that rural mount

in a bright year when everyone had hope

unto this time beneath a troubled star

out past the forest

we find no limits on these warming days

when the horizon beckons us to flee

out past the forest deep into the haze

for those indoors whose eyes are all aglaze

with lack of vision there's a thing to see

we find no limits on these warming days

our minds are liberated from the maze

of ordinary tasks we choose to be

out past the forest deep into the haze

where all of life has changed in this new phase

the rules are different both for bird and tree

we find no limits on these warming days

where light and colour mingle in one blaze

while heart and mind in peace have to agree

out past the forest deep into the haze

breaking the silence in melodious phrase

one chant of joy from mountain down to sea

we find no limits on these warming days

out past the forest deep into the haze

gazing skyward

there are dark clouds beginning to take shape

out in the west so soon we'll hear the drums

aloft in heaven as the earth succumbs

its tender softness under grassy drape

is waiting eager happy mouth agape

certain that summer in its fervour comes

to soothe each rough spot that grim winter numbs

and grant each of us respite and escape

the chains that hold each down are real enough

to warrant our desire for honest ease

and liberation from the cycle's hurt

yet all in common learn how to be tough

from horrid  heat wave to the hardest freeze

we'll make it all the way until the dirt

say the right word

there are some facts that will my anger trigger

as when a child eats rubbish from a skip

or dumb inanity escapes some lip

or when the worst express themselves with vigour

for i love best good honest thought and rigour

and want life to improve at a smart clip

to have a world with neither chain nor whip

where no one will be called a slave or nigger

this is a future all can understand

and tightly hold in each understanding

where gold is not a synonym for worth

and help is to be found from every hand

while every boat comes tinto a safe landing

and every child is welcomed at their birth

such clarity in morning sky

such clarity in morning sky

a world of promise showing green

with purple buds beyond the screen

no chance today the earth will dry

while we are caught in the machine

such clarity in morning sky

will soon be past the time goes by

swiftly to conquer the serene

leaving as record of the scene

such clarity in morning sky

music and vision

sounds matter but true meaning's in the eye

where what we note of colour size or shape

becomes the means by which honest escape

from what is known and what we can descry

by normal means will happen by and by

for each of us the record on the tape

is not the whole we're not out of the scrape

just when we we think the story has to die

so let the note be sounded once for all

while the conductor smiles at his good task

for we have taken on the cloak of grace

by overcoming each pain of the fall

from mortal height to these shores where we bask

in warmth and joy beyond the cold embrace

the happy strange

there's no choice that the ordinary make

each normal day that driven by desire

in all those things the heart seeks to acquire

we wish to fault and yet the words that break

in angry torrents on our backs must take

all of our patience since they each require

that we must suffer and yet hold our fire

while moving onward for our freedom's sake

not that we grudge the right to raging voice

of those who do not understand that change

must happen that new things must come to be

in this old world and that we should rejoice

to see emergence of the happy strange

and energetic lives of liberty

the circle's now completed

the circle's now completed that is plain

even to those who will not trust their eyes

who weighted down by hope and by surmise

have given little thought to the campaign

and left the door quite open to the spies

the circle's now completed that is plain

for those who come here seeking rapid gain

and always eager to hurt or despise

the slow and gentle baffling them with lies

the circle's now completed that is plain

not at all plastic

here is the test of what we want to know

 measured in force but not yet in desire

entombed disdain of what we must acquire

on this short trip there's not so far to go

 before the flag comes down on the whole show

and story's done that tune's one for the lyre

unmusical but catchy round the fire

so we must learn before it's time to go

now heroes fail just like the common sort

and no birds cry when they let out last breath

 but mountains soften underneath the rain

 turning far greener with that soft support

in the sure knowledge that like any death

 we will be thankful for an end of pain

our plain duty

observe the future and record the past

that's our plain duty and it is enough

to get us our redemption at long last

we're only part of the supporting cast

whose job it is to murmur words of fluff

observe the future and record the past

while others move about the world so fast

they seem like angels yet we call their bluff

to get us our redemption at long last

our task's not simple though we have been classed

among the lesser folk the job is tough

observe the future and record the past

note who showed fear and who survived the blast

that changed the world write all fear no rebuff

to get us our redemption at long last

though there are horrors we'll not stand aghast

nor yield to silence or fear of the rough

observe the future and record the past

to get us our redemption  at long last

leaving the city behind

returning home and noting the white blooms

and purple blossoms as the year proceeds

to resurrect the signs of healthy deeds

that furtive humans keep to quiet rooms

not wanting to announce that life resumes

its normal course that each of us concedes

our mortal happiness too flowers bleeds

and has its joyous moments not just dooms

a simple justice tells us to observe

how the world works and then to understand

how great our folly that we seek to hold

back the ticking clock think we can preserve

all fragile nature if we lift a hand

and keep the flower perfect if we're bold

what does the trick

there are no rules that do not become stale

with greasy age but never quite can fade

into disuse there's an unspoken trade

that does not need the ruler or the scale

but measures all those things that must avail

to keep us steady when we call for aid

the ones who never come out to parade

but without whom the enterprise would fail

these actions have the qualities of rite

imbued with meaning sanctified by age

yet all the agents seem such normal folk

people who sleep through the short hours of night

would not be caught dead strutting on the stage

but will not bend beneath the whip or yoke

some sort of vision

no thought of loss just so much heavy grey

thickness of smoke  unfolding on the ground

removing colour flattening all sound

and yet we can note little of the day

too warm we think but yet no time for play

all wait to hear a message more profound

but all who speak seem narrow closely bound

by weighty powers all have lost the way

instead of music we have flighty speech

to serve as background for the journey out

beyond the doors to where all roads must start

each of us pledged to do our best to reach

the highest goal and by the human art

we know the best to overcome all doubt

king of the cats

more loud than thunder with its rumbling shout

is the clear voice that says the course is set

from west to east and there is none to let

down the lines nor to put the candles out

when storm's upon us rattling hard the spout

so half asleep and too late to regret

the cost of excess calm and price of sweat

we still confront the truth of pain and doubt

less certain that the world to which we'll wake

shall be the one in which we went to sleep

no matter what the colour of the skies

we live to understand the great mistake

to learn about just what we get to keep

and what to make of the long stream of lies