Blade

for Valentine’s Day, here’s a love song I wrote a long time ago:

 

The blades of grass cut me so hard

As I look at you, my love.

The forces of nature are sharp as your wits

As we track up the hillsides

And fall into pits.

Nature’s a garment, and oh, how it fits

As I look at you, my love.

 

The river rushes down to the sea;

It will take us along, my love.

If we must move let me travel with you.

The sun blazes down watching all that we do.

Promptings and messages drop with the dew

And we must reply, my love.

 

Blades of the reeds are piercing my heart

Down here by the lake, my love.

Cupid is aiming; he catches my eye.

I want to be with him because he is high.

But he shakes his head and returns to the sky

And leaves me with you, my love.

 

The blades fight a duel to split us in two

And make us a pair, my love.

Reedbed and pasture are shelter and food,

River moves slowly while lake waters brood.

Your answer all over the sky will be strewed,

So what will it be, my love?

 

 

 

Evil Guardian Angel

This one was channelled from Ino

I don’t know what to do with my English public schoolgirl friend. She never actually wore a tie at school, but I’ve decided that the Old School Tie is something that strangles those who try to survive without being streetwise.

Several times now I’ve picked her up from the gutter of life, dusted her down and set her back on the road again. But she only goes somewhere that’s off the map, where many a big bad wolf idles by the side of the road watching for her to stray off it.

As I lift her up by her braces (she’s never had braces on her teeth but she does so need a gate across her mouth), I swing her a few times as if from the gibbet where her path would shortly have petered out had I not picked her up. Then I place her on a friendlier road lined with flowers, and I give her a pocket handkerchief full of pot pourri tied to a stick that she carries over her shoulder.

But I should have put in rat poison. Then the discolouration of her character and tongue would at least have been quick instead of painfully slow as she meanders along the flowery way, the easy path, the ‘wide road that leads to destruction.’

In the land where old school ties have only recently disappeared, it behoves you to be very careful that people can’t tell exactly where you come from, right to the exact front door and the number on it.

If I can find you so can the stork, and whose baby would you really like to be? He picked up his bundle just as you did, and will be depositing you behind the front door where the cap fits. ALL CAPS: easy to read there above the door. So the journey will end and a new one will begin, but don’t expect me to keep picking you up this time, because I’ve picked someone else.