Of the many things the time around the solstice brings
There are many that sit ill with me and with many others
And not only the frantic formic scurrying to
Gather sweetness for a few days’ time that
All too often descends to stinging ass-showing and
Sharp mandibular work that tears and leaves scars

The orgy erupts again and again
Coating all the world in its delight
And provokes from no few their own
Sticky fluids clinging and dripping
Needing more than a few towels to wipe up
And ensuring spreading through the bush as
Seed scatters to the winds

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Already the spring is coiling
Tension building to find release
And propel forward some flower to bloom
Opening again in renewing sunlight
To the delight of those who planted it and
Who yet tend its soil

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The outside world is chill and grey
And damp besides. It stifles play
Schoolchildren would begin today,
But it does not the work allay.

The drops of water come on down;
No sequence clear in it is found,
Nor yet enough that they might drown
Who would depart from this surround.

Xarpo is just passing through
She says, and does not mean to do
So much here, as some might rue.
Soon Jack will bring in something new.

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Feeling weak as
I see the surging muscles
Swelling with flexion
Blood-fueled and
Throbbing as sweat cascades and
Heavy panting at the
Exertions little clad

I remain
Swathed opaquely
Struggling with heavy things in
Hands cramping to hold onto them
Pushing again and again but
Having them surge at my face
At least as often

The others give but passing glances
I turn away from them in shame and
Envy at what they have with seeming ease
While I yet labor for what I never had
And hope perhaps in vain my
Striving amid the smells of oil and sweat
Bodies growing unwashed and glorious
May yet win for me

If there is a race
It has long since passed me by
And even the dust kicked up has
Fallen back to earth
While clouds catch the fading sunlight and
Stars start winking out from the
Spreading cloak of coming night
Drawn to cover the bodies anew

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The opening salvos have been fired
And the new soldiers have been hired
To stand at the front and face the horde
That, not sated by the board
That showed them plenty yesterday,
At a new altar hopes to pray.

The blasts, resounding, echo yet
As that bleak army incurs debt
To press ahead in its campaign
Against who against it complain
But do not act. They lift no hand
To meet or thwart the war’s demand.

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My throat grows hoarse for how I have long raged.
My heart is heavy; it seldom is assuaged.
Attention falters when plays are too long staged,
And knuckles bleed that rap upon the doors
Forever closed, and I can do no more
Than I have done. I may have thought before
That I might move some hearts and minds to me,
To fight against the Stupid God to free
Those from it who would gladly from it flee,
But striving that I do seems all in vain.
That those who want to flee it have is plain;
The rest seem with it happy to remain.
They dance and sing, an orgy of delight
They carry on amid the spreading night.

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Though she will never read these lines I write,
I yet would have near me day and night;
Though years have passed, I still thrill at the sight
Of her. How could I not? But more I thrill
That she remains yet with me, good and ill,
And more the latter, has not had her fill
And passed on by, as many might well do.
For all that I have given cause to rue
Accepting life with me, she carries through,
Abiding my unthinking in seeming ease.
No wonder, then, that I hope her to please
With word and deed. That tempest is a breeze
I face with her. It is an easy life
I lead in leading it beside my wife.

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I see her as she stands upon the stage,
Doing as she’s done since tender age,
And see for her a future to assuage
The fears I feel for her in every day.
She knows them little, goes outside to play,
Goes to school, goes to church to pray,
And thinks but little of what can go wrong,
Running, laughing, lifting voice in song.
My own prayer is that it will be long
Ere her young heart, to its hurt, will be touched.
I know we live in a harsh world, and such
A place can wreak great harm on all, and much
Of my concern is that she may yet smile.
O! May she be a little girl a while!

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Open up and let us in
We have so much to offer
You for your mercy and kindness
And we are grateful to you
Or will be when we’re there

They do not say and do not show
The uniforms they wear and arms they bear
Waiting to pillage the lands into which they walk

Instead of bridges
They build walls of their own
Because they fear that the gold they seek
From us and from others
Will be turned to rule upon them

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