“The Queen & The Soldier”

The soldier came knocking upon the queen’s door
He said, “I am not fighting for you any more.”
The queen knew she’d seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

He said, “I’ve watched your palace up here on the hill
And I’ve wondered who’s the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why.”

Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.

He said, “I see you now, and you are so very young
But I’ve seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I’ve got this intuition, says it’s all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?”

The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, “You won’t understand, and you may as well not try”
But her face was a child’s, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, “I’ve swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I’ve bled.”
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

“Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won’t march again on your battlefield.”
And he took her to the window to see.

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

And he said, “I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don’t understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange.”

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.

Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on..

Gang aft agley

Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion,
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request;
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men
Gang aft agley,
An’lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

Inglan is a bitch

dem a have a lickle facktri up inna Brackly inna disya facktri all dem dhu is pack crackry fi di laas fifteen years dem get mi laybah now awftah fifteen years mi fall out a fayvah Inglan is a bitch dere’s no escapin it Inglan is a bitch dere’s no runnin’ whey fram it mi […]

Letting Go

Knuckles round knife
And cutting the slice,
Peeling and paring
The earthen skin.

Searching the puzzle
And picking apart
Easing the seems
In integral heart.

Swollen of toe
In junior school shoes,
Casting away,
The things I must lose.

Barnacle’s grip
On memory rocks
Washed by the tides,
To loosen the locks.

Time is the oil,
Of Sesame’s call
Choosing the future
Amongst potential’s all.

Taking the grey ships
Into the West.
Death of the Old,
And pains in my chest.

Left on the beach,
In seaweed embrace.
Turning away
And looking for pace.

Leaving behind,
The more that you take,
Footsteps in sand,
And thirst that won’t slake.

Melancholy’s magic,
Tempers my mood
Washes the cheeks
And deadens the food.

Waiting and watching,
For sunrise in East,
Birth of the Knew,
Is bringing its feast.

Release is elastic
And stretches the thread,
Taking the knife,
And paring it dead.

Pulling on chord,
In navel hue
Eviscerate and cleanse,
The time it is due.

Letting it go
Is hard and IT aches

Letting it go
Is sad with BUT brakes.

Letting it go
Is now and IT takes.

Letting it go
Is time and IT makes.

Letting it go,
Is free and NO fakes.

Go to the door,
Yell at the sky
Open those wings,
It is, time to fly.

Raising above,
And looking down.
How small is the past
How distant, its town.

Ginger bread houses
And icing sugar roof
The future is here
Please, give me some proof.

Letting it go
Is hard as nails.

Letting it go
Is hard as ….

Letting it go
Is hard……

Letting it go
Is…….

Gone.