Cannon Fodder

The live men and the dead men march to war,
Their difference glimpsed by fate, yet all the same.
Those last far off goodbyes resonant
In proud and frightened minds that rise aflame,
But cannot contemplate their greatest dread
To come this way again with thoughts dark lead.

The spirits of the dead will march beside
An army living only for the day,
To lead them onto battle stricken soil
So they may guide tomorrow’s on their way,
Whose quarrels don’t extend to faceless souls,
Murder men they must, their conscience sold.

With quivered hands on guns they wait in line,
Pounding fear in every tunic’s breast,
So trench’s ridge gives way to evil pasture,
And ammunition flies on Satan’s quest.
As drums of glory beat out war’s self worth
The blood of nations' youth will join the earth.

To those lords who dwell past sanctuary’s gate
A soldier live or dead is just a corpse,
Shorn of will, imprisoned by a state
To fight a bloody war, their master’s cause.
Another thousand lie as twisted flesh
Ten hundred chits to fill then start afresh

© Teeming Universe 2008

Sojourn

On one charmed morn a golden sun arose,
Broke from straddled clouds that could not smother
The life, joy, zest that shone upon all those
The psyche touched; brilliance like no other.
A celestial smile would show the way
To bring life and warmth to all those with soul
And soul to those lost in the daily fray,
Beguiled by natural charm to be extolled.
But now the sun, still fiery, slowly sinks
The veiled orb replaced by one last flush
Of crimson flecked in vibrant marble hue.
Now lost to twilight’s haze; not memory’s brink.
Yet, others gain so surely, at first blush
As our bright star will elsewhere rise anew.

© Teeming Universe 2008

Belgium

Silence.
Silence except the wind’s light murmur
Through poplar avenues.
A beaming sun warms the rich red fertile earth
And plays upon the pure white words.
Lines of stone stood solemn and proud,
Symmetrical,
To attention.
To walk amongst them feels like intrusion.
To live on their land, their terms.
To read their last words
And on one to kneel and lay the first flowers
Upon my great grandfather’s grave.

© Teeming Universe 2008

Teeming Universe

Sphere of darkness embraces,
Stifling my sum knowledge.
Yet still I look out upon the inaccessible,
As a goldfish may stare
At a glass dome of blurry colour.

Electronic probes, telescopic aids
Make vain, valiant attempts
To puncture the sphere’s bubble.
A motley of stars to delight and torment
The greatest of fertile minds.
Tales of a transit, perhaps a wobble,
And a scientist’s suggestion
Of perfect conditions.
But no one hears.

My conclusion?
Ten billion stars in each of
Ten billion galaxy cities.
A universe of infinite proportion
Built for me and my brethren alone.
A colossal, gargantuan waste of space,
Physics in overload, self-indulgent to extremes.
Purely to dazzle, to wonder, to mock,
To tantalise one tiny world,
One soul in a sterile heaven.

Now I watch the dawn with a lonely sigh.
A small reddened sun follows
Its golden brother across the
Familiar dead sky.


© Teeming Universe 2008