melting

melting

Time has come now it is time,

Snows and Heat are melting in us, 

Divides of game and senseless crime,

Fly off the sight of the tired campus,

The piper plays a different tune,

Children are back to their only commune.

The baroness has left us so dignified,

From us our Father she’s not to snatch,

Maria sings tired, a hymn so tried,

To bring him back to a winsome match.

Time has come now it is time,

Years of grief and tender tears,

Seemed never to end and never to rhyme,

We sing and chant now with pride, without fears,

See the children of sixty years,

Moving everywhere from where they were.

Mountains glow and the rivers flow,

No horrid sound comes of them though,

Forests bloom and flowers talk,

Shepherds smile and boatmen row,

Roads and streets are open to show,

That Peace and Wealth are here to walk.

Farmers feast from west to east

And take the bowl from south to north

Happy are we, to say the least

With our food we knew, from back and forth.

The crescent Moon and the glowing Sun

Rise and set so happy to burn

Daughters and sons of the Father so strong

Are never to fight, for right or wrong.

The winds are fresh and the need is prime

Time has come now it is time.

Penultimate

Penultimate

No, No! Nothing is fixed or final

Yet it’s not moving at all

Rehearse the hearse,

or the womb you’d like to nurse

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.

Flowers will drop or form into fruits without a trace,

Babies will seed from the gentle Grace,

Yet monuments and buildings re-built

Without remorse, or any bit of Guilt.

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.

Powers play on the stage once more,

As Kids and Children fight to death –

All have points so proud to score,

The lands in vain go out of breath.

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.

Rats will scare the cats again,

Until the piper plays the flute,

The mourning mayor is still in pain

has left the Town, so immune and mute.

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.

Farmers decide not to plough the Land

So fighters beyond reach go begging for grain.

Women decide not to be Mothers again

Those wombs that bleed in moan and pain

Might never fight for right or greed

Become a horror, or snatched to the battlefield.

Yet there is just one more to come,

Reject it or welcome.

Beauty and bliss will never cease,

In the days to come as those bygone,

Sense will crush the films and seize,

Yet nothing sinks when the show is on.

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.

No, No! Nothing is fixed or final

Yet it’s not moving at all

Good or glad; bad or sad,

our own tribunal

Reject it or welcome,

There is always one more to come.