from classics:



PETER HAMMILL





X MY HEART




A Better Time




As surely as the countdown begins our time is not our own;
already there's the breath of the wind which bleaches bare the bones
of the deadlines we set, of the jokes we don't get
and forgetfulness that furrows the brow...
no, I'll never find a better time
to be alive than now.

So I wake up, to remainder the dream
of personality and posture and face
for nothing can remain as it seems
in some perfect state of pure grace....
all we prize and protect only cause and effect
but I suspect the furrow may be guiding the plough
and I'll never find a better time
to be alive than now.

No better, no worse, much the same,
we wait on the why and the when;
no question but we'll go as we came
with no shift in the shape of the zen
and it is as it is and we take as we find
always next season's buds on the bough...
but I'll never find a better time,
hard though it is to allow.
I'll never find a better time
to be alive than now.

This is the life and we've only time
to be alive right now.







Amnesiac





I can't think of anything I did or was doing,
I can't seem to get a hold on what's come to pass,
here with half a mind on something else
and half a finger in the glass,
since you ask.

I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be going:
in the end every journey's only pawing the ground
and I've half a mind just to jack it in,
but for this torn-off ticket stub I just found.
Since you ask about the shape I'm in
I'll try my best to pull myself around.

Amnesiac if you say it's so;
amnesiac what happened long ago?
Oh, now I just don't know.

I can't think of anyone that I'd rather be with
but I don't know why you should want to stick here with me
when I can't even find what was on my mind
for all the holes punched in my memory:
it's a wasteland, and I'm terrified
to admit, to let go, to accept I don't know,
all those blanks won't be filled,
I'll be found by the chill of the glacier run
of what I might have done....
Since you last asked about the state I'm in
it seems I've lost all grip on where I'm coming from....

Amnesiac does it so plainly show?
Amnesiac as if I didn't know,
Amnesiac oh say it isn't so....

Amnesiac,
amnesiac,
amnesiac,
black-out, K.O.




Ram Origami





Here's the lost boy with the brittle smile,
plastered panstick on his face,
making himself up; for a little while
all the fragments will remain in place.
We are only what we manage to retrieve
out of memory
(Who do you think you are?)

Inside, it's hailstorm visibility
transformed by outer confidence and charm:
step up to take responsibility,
step down to keep the pieces of identity calm
and the moment we believe that we got it all in place
is the very moment when the cup overflows,
out of memory.

(Who do you think you are?
Where did you say you'd been?
What did you think you were?
How did it seem?
How does it seem?)

There goes the who, the what, the why and wherefore
all folded up in origami stuff:
people and places we once cared for...
we remember, but not vividly enough
and it's all blank paper when we finally open up
with not even watermarks as messages to trace
only folds in the floe of the frozen face
out of memory.





A Forest Of Pronouns



Yes, questions
coming up on the autocue
and I'm open to suggestion
but can I say the same for you?
So lost in the forest of pronouns
that I can't see the wood for the trees....
Got to face up to the showdown
between you, me and him, which is we?

Strange language fills my head:
(It isn't written, you can take it as read
if you dare to believe it
the buts stop where the arrow's sped,
this is the main chance,
take it or leave it.)
It isn't written but still I take it as read.

I heard the grass growing under my feet -
oh, princess, what might have been?
Once your kisses were so bittersweet
that I got caught in the in-between.

Strange voices came and went
(It isn't certain, but it's 90%, yeah, you'd better believe it.
The buck stops when the arrow's spent, this is the get-out,
take it or leave it.)
If I'm uncertain still I leave it unsaid.

I can't take it, can't leave it.

Yes, questions - though responses remain unsure;
still I stay open for suggestions - for this there's no simple cure.
And I got lost in the forest of pronouns
so I can't see the wood for the trees.

Strange language floods my head...
(It isn't certain, but it's 90%, yeah, you'd better believe it.
The butts stop where the arrow's sped, this is the get-out,
take it or leave it.)
It isn't written...do I take it as read?

I can't take it, can't leave it.




Earthbound





My heart flew in my mouth
the moment that your eyes locked mine.
I blurted something out
along these lines:
we're earthbound
but we all long for flight...

My heart's worn on my sleeve:
I'd offer all I could contrive
if only you'd believe
you flood my mind.
We're earthbound
but you spring my heart alive.

My heart's stopped in its tracks -
what train of thought has just arrived
while gravity's cruel tax
drags me to ground?
We're earthbound
but you spring my heart to life.
We spin around,
we're earthbound
but you spring me free to flight.

Eathbound,
we're earthbound,
all earthbound...
but we all long for flight.

Heartbreak the anagram:
(But hero Dan had no brute boar hunted;
doubt he ran but heard no burned oath;
undo breath, do burn hate, be hard unto
burned oath, undo breath...)

Earthbound.




Narcissus (Bar & Grill)





It's a private club, so exclusive that the membership is one;
you can walk right in, can be sure your face is always welcome here.
Drink up your fill: this is the Narcissus bar & grill
so you can do what you will to reveal who you are.

You can settle down, select your entertainment -
on reflection you'll be there in every surface;
you can take your time, there's no need to have a reservation here.
Drink up your fill in the Narcissus bar & grill.
Sweet daffodil, what a fascination you are.
Ooh, what a thrill: you can be your own lucky star.

Falling in love with your reflection,
I guess you've found your blind spot.
(Don't fall in love with your reflection,
no heart could handle the rejection:
you're going to dive deep into the well.)
You had a name once but it seems that now you've lost it,
you had a name but you've forgotten it now.

Classic lessons to be learned, just a word of caution,
self-absorption doesn't guarantee respect:
what you'll get you'll earn...eye on the main chance,
this is not what you desire or expect,
drowning in the watering-hole....
and don't imagine that you're one of the elect
Pay up your bill: in the Narcissus bar & grill
there's time left to kill, better start to see who you are.
Think good or ill of the Narcissus bar & grill
it's all grist to the mill, it's all kissing that scars.
Go on and drink up your fill,
do what you will, it won't reveal what you are.
Drink up your fill, it's time to pay up your bill.

Falling in love with your reflection,
I guess you've found your blind spot:
you're going to dive deep into the well.
(Don't fall in love with your reflection,
no heart could handle the rejection:
of getting lost in introspection....)
You had a name once but it seems that you forgot it;
you had a name but it seems that now you've lost it;
you had a name but, baby, you've not got it now.





Material Possession



Every loss a legacy
every gain ill-gotten,
the golden apples on the tree are all potentially rotten.
Pluck the fruit and bear no mind,
so the poisonous bloom advances -
the hand that clasps too tight will never grasp its chances.

All the things that you've got will not be worth a lot
if the owning becomes an obsession
meaning nothing more than mere material possession.

Broken, lost, the precious thing,
does that make your life so empty?
stars shine alike upon the ditch and on the land of Plenty.
The thing that's gone was always going to be gone,
what's left is some remembered pleasure -
only their loss confirms the things we ever learned to treasure.

And the things that you claim are only ever yours in name -
do you think that they'll leave an impression?
Only flesh and bone are the true material possessions.

Your lighter's worth a watch, your watch would buy a car,
your car is worth a house with rooms to rattle round in.
Try to make the house a home that's yours and yours alone:
you dredge a lake of dreams to fill with tears and drown in.
Now the flame will soon be dowsed and time is running out,
the wheel will turn full circle, then we'll all be foundlings.

And all the things that we own are never ours alone,
no, they just pass through our hands in succession -
shake the spirit, shake the blood, shake the flesh and shake the bone
shake free from material possession.

Every loss is treasure trove, every gain is faded,
every taste and every touch will finally be jaded.
When in the end all life is spent
what we bought was mere digression:
the price we pay shaking free from material possession.




Come Clean




There's no getting back to how it started
and the next few pages are uncharted,
there's no secret passage, no speedy getaway -
what do you say now?
We could talk about this in a calmer state
but if we wait it won't get any easier.
So we're damned if we do and damned if we don't,
we can't deny what each action means:
come clean.

Everything you've done is carried with you
and no-one's ever going to forgive you
if you won't come to terms with where and who you've been:
look at the screen now.
Stir up the ghosts of your own forgetfulness,
don't pack up your troubles in the sleeping bag.
Don't ignore what you saw but believe how it seems,
you can try to make a brand new start.
We can only do our best, with an open heart
come clean,
wipe the slate clean,
come clean.

The slate's clean but there's something that you never forget,
though it's hidden in your most secret place
it's still written in the memories that you've buried - worse yet
it's restructured in the lines of your face...come clean.

No spooling on to how it's ending
and the next few pages are mindbending:
the territory's minefield and the needle's in the red.
Let's put it to bed now,
cook up a cover story for our given lots,
be do or damned, stand by the forget-me-not.
there'll be no blame for the stain that a lived-in life leaves,
no shame in what might have been.
We can only do our best but our lives'll never be pristine -
come clean, the slate's clean, come clean.

Maybe what I mean's this is as clean as it ever gets.....