An-Old-Grimoire

It was a ball at a funeral the light of chandeliers reflected on the polished wood of nailed-shut caskets. The dancers waltzed among the mourners who cried in all manner of voice and tongue. It was, or seemed it was the end of the beginning or maybe the beginning of the end. Some guests had danced before and some had mourned and others had done both but none could quite remember. As the evening drifted by the dancers stopped dancing and the mourners ceased mourning. They saw each other for the first time and were surprised. The hall was empty after that: the caskets buried, the chandeliers extinguished. Tobacco smoke still drifted along

Shall it ever again come to pass: this thought, this distance to the sky unturning - time standing still? Shall there be rain on the morrow of undreamt visions and forgotten futures for those chosen few who will never remember? Behold we stand! We, who are no band of brothers; no loyal comrades; no olden friends We know but will not speak. Our eternal spite discards the living and condemns the dead. Locks us into             silence

Is there still the neigh of the last horse on the last meadow Or has it already ended with the twilight in the jaws of the wolf? And so the sound of Aurora's canon still echoes through the ages A sin of hundred years ago claiming still its toll.

Sleeping in its eternal wisdom Faltering not with the passage of time Stirring but briefly as frost coats the meadows Dreaming of things all but forgotten Revering the past as a gilded fell blossom To never forget To never return To never awake

Feel the tickle and the stab Of eyes relentlessly peering from the lane to the right Driving to a place never seen before And yet already there

Upon frayed wings Flying into tattered horizons Sharing not the fate Of feathers on the wind Behold! My dawn, my death in Clouds relenting their embrace I am home at last Yet lost beyond redemption

I'm alone in old London-town Searching for a place to sleep I was going up, but came down Now I'm living on the street My bed's the number twenty-five From Oxford Circus to Manor Park Driver shakes me up when we arrive I get out into the bus stop dark It's summer but the rain is biting Got no raincoat, just a plastic bag Some folks think this is exciting But truth is this life's a drag I'll go to the place in the morning Where they give me coffee white, Let me out with the same warning: "Hey, old chap, be safe tonight" Got an appetite of a lorry driver Gonna pick some pockets on the train If I'm lucky I might get a fiver If

Tonight again I walk my beat Nothing seems to be a-changin' There's no one fresh to meet No new names for the exchangin' Run down cars on the sidewalks Trashcans spilled in the alley light And there ain't no barks o' dogs Just the rumblin' o' the city night By the corner there's a young man In his hands I see a bloody blade I don't think he's got a game plan But he thinks he's got it made He looks at me and waves me over Says, "Old man, you ain't seen a thing" Then he cuffs me on the shoulder And sends me off like he's the king I walk away, all stunned and blue –   Wasn't like this in my summer's heat But now just one t

Beacon in the hollow dark For ancient travelers of space Once lit with a great birth spark Now shines like emptiness' face Many worlds she's seen arising And many of them burn and fall But without loving or despising, Her light she gave to one and all But then came a day of mighty fire! Though cool inside, a light explodes Out of nothing, arises a great pyre As a Phoenix from a burning globe This fresh inferno shortly lives But all may witness from afar How the galactic power gives To Universe, a Neutron Star

Shoplifted bread choked him to death.