A Prayer

To lonely me, a throneless king, the queen to be my lady bring.
My love for her's so true, You know it seems unfair to falter so.
Be she mine forever Lord, bring her to me so that, together we can share love of Thee.
In these arms of mine I desire to hold her; with your Love Divine I long to enfold her.
Oh, as I weep these tears of pain when I do sleep, she comes again
to guide me on with loving light. Please bring me Lord from this dark night,
and guide us Lord, so that we might with one accord come to your light.
Sir, I entreat with humble heart... Help us to meet in love, to start
a wondrous alliance eternity-wise, in radiant defiance of Satan's lies.

You say: "Just ask, it shall be given." So I ask: Sir, when will my shriven
helpless soul receive the love which remains hidden whilst my heart above
the earth does rise to seek love out; that in my eyes,
compassionate, she may reveal sweet love for me, my wounds to heal.
Oh, show me Lord, whilst I grovel low, is it your accord that I must crave her so
and in return (for my reward) apparent spurn? Please help me Lord!
Can evil's bent stoop quite so low that she is meant to hurt me so,
or is it that your Love Divine has picked her out - will make her mine?
And could it be her love for You if shown through me would blossom too?
Or is it sworn in truth that I am so forlorn her love would die?

You say: "Then seek, and you will find." Though I'm not meek You know my mind's
seeking your grace with heart contrite. Behold her face contains your light!
...or so it seems to one so poor, who in his dreams seeks Heaven's door.
Is it true Sir, that I shall find your love in her? Will she be kind
enough to give this heart of mine the chance to live in peace sublime?
I pray You Lord, bring her love to me, still longing, though (ne'er patiently)
your Love Divine I forever seek. Oh, help me Lord, I am so weak!

Please hear me Sire. I entreat you with great desire... bring her to me do.
So ever more, her heart with mine, we can explore your Love Divine.
But if this love should be in vain then help me, Lord, live alone again.
As I here pray on bended knees, I beg You God, give me patience.....please!?

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Can You Hear?

Have you heard the news today?
An honest man began to say
that all the grain poured in the sea
could have been used so easily
to feed those who are going to die
through the selfish greed of my brothers.

Can you think of any way
to make the modern airlines pay?
Do you think that there may be
a way to answer this query?
I want to know why they can't fly
food and drink over to my brothers.

If they'd just go
and govern so,
then me and you
could say we too
would like to show
we also know
now what to do.
Wish it were true!

Have you heard the news today?
Fresh milk was all poured away!!
Is it that this has to be
for the good of you and me?
Or is it that you just won't try
to help me ease the thirst of my brothers?

Do you know there is a way?
If only governments would say
that, at expense to you and me
(because the country's on it's knee)
the nation's airlines are to fly
food and drink over to my brothers.

If they'd just go
and govern so,
then me and you
could say we too
would like to show
we also know
now what to do.
Wish it were true!

Have you heard the news today?
China has grown up this May!
Making friends with you and me
just the way that it should be;
has anybody wondered why
suddenly they stand and cry: "Brothers!!"

Can you hear just what I say?
Get down on your knees and pray!
Come along! Rejoice with me
the way that it will always be!
It makes me feel like I could cry -
God's Love for you, and me, and my brothers,

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Cheer Up!

An unhappy soul is in my eye
and what is this I see - Why cry?
The future can't be quite so bad
so why is it you're looking sad?
After all, today's the day;
so come on, let's look bright and gay.
Crack that face and give a smile
and I will stay here for a while.

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Chėrnyj Mak

You were called my Chėrnyj Mak
I wonder if you'll e'er come back,
for you walked out leaving strife
at the peak of my great life
and there left me all alone
to become a rolling stone.
As I seemed to backwards go
life itself became so slow
for one who without a friend
could not see beyond the bend
and for one who knew not where
to look for the signs still there.
Time ticked by, the world turned round
till one sunny day I found
I came on a new straight way
just as night closed on my day
and once again I moved along
with fervour now, renewed and strong.
But suddenly, to some surprise
the road fell off before my eyes
and vanished into new dead ground;
another hazard I had found
which made no easier for me
the way to solve my own quandary.
But yet I age and time goes on;
I trudge by still a lonely one.
There is a vacuum inside
which I often cannot hide,
and which at times becomes a cell
in which my heart is locked in hell.
I think of poppies red and black
and wonder if you will come back
into my world again one day
and there become a golden ray
turning to zolotistyj
the Chėrnyj Mak I used to see.

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Crazy Man

The show must go on
for the master has gone
to all this trouble
and he's damned if the wetter
day will get the better
of his crazy schemes.

The sky turns black
and the padre gets the sack
to no avail.
More rain pours down
on everyone's frown
- we get soaked!

"Right then, you crowd!"
He cries out aloud,
"Go out and die
for your queen and her country
(in the show that they must see
to glory my name)."

Some stupid things we do
in this our human zoo
while no-one watches
our antics. They're wasted
on one who has tasted
the sweetness of power.

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Ill Desperandum

The sickly sense of pure despair...
the need for someone just to care...
the mental turmoil - When, and where?
The aching question: Is it fair?

To love the world and give your all,
to be around and heed the call
to pick folk up after they fall;
to leave them feeling really tall.

And when your turn to fall comes round
you whisper "Help!" and none is found.
You cry but no-one hears the sound.
You fall because you've lost your ground,

Must so many men be so?
Why is it they do not know
how to repay love and show
that they don't want you to go?

Help me! Help! Please tell me where
I'll find the love and strength and care
to recharge stocks that once were there
deep in my heart before despair.

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Thirteen Steps to Sanity

I say: "There will be no more war!"
coz I'm the one who knows the score.

If only everyone would think
the same as me; I know the brink
would then recede.

There is no need
to prove that I am wrong.

Why won't you sing my song?

Instead, you stifle me again
because, you say, I am insane.

I see a man in uniform
and I wonder: "Is he warm
enough to fight the cold?"

Or are his ideas old
and is it that he'd rather fight
another man to show his might
be the greater power?

We all stand and glower
and wait to see who'll rise again,

Who knows?
Maybe we're all insane.

I take a step into the world
and see the banners are all furled
in memory of men who died
all because an idiot tried
to prove me wrong.

He fooled the throng
into believing he was God
when he was just
a silly sod.

It's been said time and again
that, sick in head, he was insane.

I take another step outside
and see that other men have tried
in their own time
to prove that I'm
wrong.

You all say that I'm mad
but, I swear it, you've been had -
there is no future in this world
and the Devil has you curled
all around his finger.

Again
I wonder...
p'raps it's me who's sane.

As I stride across the ground
my mind inside goes round and round
a roundabout and in and out
of problems that are all about
me.

Now that I'm in my car
I feel like a movie star
with one sort of face inside
and one behind which he can hide;
while the magazine's refrain
tells the world that he is sane.

Back home, I sit in my room
thinking of forthcoming doom.

Glory be to God on high,
and down here on Earth in my
little hell
I ask him: "Well?"

Happily I contemplate
on the secret crucial date
when J.C. will come again
showing the world I was sane.

All the time I wonder why
I worry so.

I think I'll try
to take it easier
and maybe discover
how to keep calm.

When all round harm
is threatening -
instead I'll sing
and brighten myself up again
trying to keep myself sane.

Working on throughout the day
every month I claim my pay;
which has to be expended
on things that must be mended,
and pills to take
for my headache
gained by working at my stone -
wearing fingers to the bone.

What is there for me to gain
other than collapse, not sane??

The money which I earn
cannot my future turn
from bad to good.

My future would
be oh so much better
if I could just get a
reason for all of the graft
that slowly is driving me daft;
but I will not complain
or I'll be called insane.

I go and sit beneath a tree
and watch the birdies watching me;
they sit laughing on a bough
at me pondering on how
on earth they fly
and why can't I.

I think Sir Isaac Newton knew
what it was that man must do
to get off this earthly plane
and manage to remain sane.

I found one day I had the will
to use a fiber-type of quill
and write some verse -
I could do worse!

The poetry which my pen has wrote
always seems to long to smote
Establishment
which seems so bent.

At last people can gain
from my being sane.

In love with many girls am I,
a crazy mixed-up bardic guy;
but my good friends cannot see
what it is girls see in me.

I have a minute sort of claim
to what they must consider fame,
but even so, it could be worse
for maybe they also write verse...

I love them all though all the same
and although some seem quite insane.

(Them too!)

My mixed-up life now has an aim;
although my verse may bring no fame
some may learn
the truth they yearn
by reading what I have to say
and writing it into their day.

At last my goal is reached,
the lesson has been preached...

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