Disingenuous of A

Disingenuous of A

Yes, something stinks that is to say

In this country where so often fact

Is baked, refined and sold like smack

Now rampant addiction has ensued

Masses need the comfort of servitude

Or the euphoria that can only be enjoyed

With blind ignorance to what's destroyed

In exchange for some great honourable dream

Little more than a scratch'n'win it seems

Because we're told this running race is fair

When most have weights or even chains to wear. 

Hypocrisy like this survives

Entwined through 300 million lives 

Because to break it down would be to say

We're not the greatest, this is not the way.

When truth is simply bought and sold

Along with the democracy of old

Which this country built its name upon 

Then what was great is all but gone

So if there is some that still believe

Not in divisive gods, but in equality

Then now is the time that they should stand

'Cause they are the only hope left for this once great land.

For money cannot buy respect

In truth, they rarely intersect.

So question much, and let power reside

In numbers of people, not numbers of bribes

Tie-dyed Jeans (La-lah-love)

You will never understand

How far I searched the land

Yes, Anaheim strip malls, Spitalfield's stalls,

New York back streets, Montreal

Everywhere I'd search

With your jay-bird on its perch

Claws held around that piece of twine

And pulling at my heart strings all the time

It's la-la-lah-lah-love

La-la-lah-lah-love

Is it always such a one-sided affair?

And though you never did before

Now that we're no more

I see you walking out the Art School doors

Wearing those tie-dyed jeans I bought

For la-la-lah-lah-love

La-la-lah-lah-love

Is it always such a one-sided affair

Communications

Across the nations 

Complications from your strange translations 

Words can often be

A double-edged-sword battle for me

In la-la-lah-lah-love

La-la-lah-lah-love

La-la-lah-lah-love

La-la-lah-lah-love

I'm moving on, for all you care

These feelings make for quick repair

And it seems it's not a one sides affair.

Curves (This Is The Place)

This is the place 

It's where I joined the human race

The shag pile, mission, open face

Bricks, pull strings, lips, hip sliding things 

Shiny vinyl paints the scene

The organ fills the in-betweens

We're 3 and 5, he's 1, ears keen 

The melody's a breeze and life's the seas

Explanation's made of words

But life's made up of curves

As I shape a clay triceratops 

A best that I will never top

Or so it seems, but always in my dreams

I'll chase the black and gold and fly 

And hope to never wave goodbye

This is the place

It's where I left the human race

Cracked concrete bumps against the trolley base

As weight, with aches, threatens to break 

A grey mist paints the scene

An underground of in-betweens

Games, red, fire, roasts, the Island Queens

Music saves past's slaves, then sends me over waves

Explanation's made of words

But life's made up of curves

I considered which line looked the best

So why that one and not the rest?

My Queen, the one always in my dreams 

We'll chase the black and gold and fly

And hope to never wave goodbye 

But when we do, I'll cherish every moment spent with you.

Rocking Chair (Something True)

Rocking chair, right by the weather-beaten door.
I wouldn't care, if my feet still didn't touch the floor.
But now they do, and now that you
Are more than something black and blue, I say, 
Just tell me something true.

My favourite shirt has holes, and in places I can't hide
So should it go? If it still fits me then I really don't see why
What should I do? It's time to choose,
But with so much still to lose, I say,
Just tell me something true

Because I'd like to change my tune.
And not walk a different path in these same clothes each afternoon.
I'd settle for a clue.
Just tell me something true.

Rocking chair, wearing grooves into the floor.
If I didn't care, would I show myself the door?
What's there to prove, and who to?
Is it time for something new, I say,
Just tell me something true.

Which shirt should stay, and which should definitely go.
I tried them every way, and still don't really know.
I always liked bright blue, I still do, whether round, buttoned or crew, I say,
Just tell me something true.

Because I'd like to change my tune.
And not walk a different path in these same clothes each afternoon.
I'd settle for a cue.
Just tell me something true.

I've watched a lot go by
In my rocking-chairing life.
And it all seemed so worth time
I was learning by the knife 
One thing I know for sure
Is I'm really great at rocking 
By this weather-beaten door
Here next to you
Saying the only thing that's true
That's what I do, no less will do

This is the one thing that is true

When All The Signs Are Swept To Sea

When All The Signs Are Swept To Sea

When there's bridges over bridges
No wonder there's no time 
To let your grass grow
Yeah you know
We're all sinners in the innards so
You better race your boat along the beach
before there's no time left to reach

All the bitches and their kitsches
No wonder I don't know 
Which way my hair grows
Yeah do you know
We're all skin heads in the innards so
You better pinch your nose and start to speak
Before there's no time left to peak

But I don't know
Which way to go
To get me to tomorrow

And I don't know
What pace to go
To make it to tomorrow

All the preachers and the teachers
All wonder and chastisement 
While my doubt grows 
Yeah you know
And winners must be grinners so
You better hope the chosen hold the key
When all the signs are swept to sea

But I don't know
Which way we'll go
When we get to tomorrow

No, I don't know
Which face should show
To get me to tomorrow

And I don't know
I never seem to know
So just stay close
And help me through tomorrow

More Lake District Photos - On The 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's Death

As mentioned in my previous post I was lucky enough to be in Keswick, visit Robert Southey's grave and to stay in Greta Hall, the home where Southey lived most of his life, on the 170th Anniversary of his death, 21st March 2013. 

I would like to thank Jeronime, Scott and their lovely family, current owners and B&B Managers at Greta Hall, for their wonderful hospitality, as always!

Here are some more photos. Including a couple of panoramic shots you will need to click to view full size.

The Peak of Skiddaw - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK


Crosthwaite Church - containing an effigy of Southey and where he is buried.


View of the mountains from Southey's grave.


Greta Hall - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK

360 Degree Panorama of Keswick & Derwent Water

Panoramic Shot of the nearby Yorkshire Dales

Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

Despite many creative things to blog nothing has been getting posted. So it is that I go right back to March 21st, the 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's death, with this entry. I was lucky enough to be in Robert Southey's Study in Greta Hall (Keswick, United Kingdom) for the second time - and on such a meaningful occasion. 

While sitting in his study I read the following poem in a collection of his works, written late in his life - a telling depiction of his love for books and respect for their writers. Then below that is a poem I wrote immediately following reading his.



Stanzas Written In My Study

by Robert Southey

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,
Where're these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old;
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude





Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

by Joshua Jones

Who remembers you
When old has passed to new
And new is getting older too

Who recalls a word
You once spoke and they heard
Or they read before you were interred

Who gives much thanks
That here near Greta's banks
You toiled for hours, quill in hand 

Who really knows
The "you" beyond poems and prose
The hopes you never shared or showed

Just know that I
'Til the day I die
Shall share your writing far and wide

For as long as one remembers
You shall always be alive