Friday, 23 March 2007


Now at last, I feel it clear,
I'm still loved and God's still here.
I know it, I know it's true.
And at last I can sing again,
With no concern of how or when,
I know it, I know it's true.
No matter what I say or do,
He is my only solace then
And this old soul is made brand new.
And finally I leave my fear,
Release to him my every tear;
And all good things, of God and men
Reflect his glory, shout "Amen".
He promised he would bear me through;
I know it now. I know it's true.

Monday, 19 March 2007

Gilded Cage

I heard her shout for sureness in the dark and swirling doubt,
For freedom from amusement, but we wouldn't let her out.
Vesuvius erupted with an upwards-rushing cloud
The slowly flowing panic of a girl who's not allowed.
Don't let her touch the telephone,
Don't let her call the cops
Just feed her on the internet and play top of the pops.

I heard her call for clarity, and silence in the noise,
We taught her about make-up, though, and how to get the boys.
She didn't understand it, but she learned to play along,
She looked upon enlightenment, and saw it takes too long.
Don't tell her of achievement, or of sweet ambition's fire.
She'll manage on emotion, undevotional desire.

I heard her cry for meaning in her mad and shallow shell.
She began to ask for things that we don't know how to sell.
She pained the puppetmasters with her pleas for an idea,
For freedom of thought and the feeling of fear.
Searching for significance, she pushed on every wall,
But not until her sweeter song did they begin to fall.

She sang of pure and pretty things, of things she didn't know,
Of bigger bolder brighter things than we had thought to show.
With wet and wondering eyes, she sang of all her pains,
And when the walls were ruined, she stepped over the remains.
It broke my heart to see her destroy her home.
Not a day goes by I don't regret leaving my own.

Wednesday, 14 March 2007

Can't forget

There's a lot of wasted words that I've thrown away on you
A lot of empty promises I couldn't carry through
A lot of tears and anguish, but they haven't changed a thing,
And endless useless months have passed that haven't dulled the sting.

And why can't I forget
And why can't I move on?
Why's it not over yet?
Is there still more to come?

I'd bet a lot of money that you haven't thought of me
Half as often or as fondly as I've kept your memory.
I wrote so many letters that I never tried to send,
And even now I wonder if you call yourself my friend.

What am I to you now?
What was I to start with?
What are you to me now?
More crap to fill my heart with.

I know you never knew me, 'coz I hid myself from you.
But I was shy and younger then, so what else could I do?
There's no doubt in my mind that I have changed a lot since then.
We'd have to get to know each other from the start again.

Is it worth it to you?
Should I just let it die?
And what else could I do
When we never said goodbye?

Tuesday, 6 March 2007


"I challenge you," cried the count, "to a duel.
Of fencing or boxing or something more cruel.
I'll make you suffer, yes I'll make you pay,
For stealing my lady-love's heart clean away."

"Stealing her heart clean away?" roared the King,
"She barely used it with you, my old thing.
I'll meet your challenge. A swordfight at dawn!
We'll duel here, but please don't get blood on the lawn."

The count and the King both grinned from ear to ear.
The duel was a custom, they fought every year
In memory of their good lady most fair,
Who'd kissed them both in one night for a dare.

She'd kissed the count by the warm candlelight,
Then the king by the moon, then went home with a knight.
No doubt she was wealthy, and noble, and hot,
She may be a doll but a lady she's not!

But the king and the count still meet every Spring
To duel on the lawn of the love-stricken King.
No-one gets hurt, and it's all good clean fun,
Then they toss a pound coin to decide who has won.

They usually battle in chain-mail and shorts.
But would it affect their good friendship (of sorts)
If they knew the lady they both so adored
Was not just no lady, but also a Lord.

Thursday, 1 March 2007

Where is he in the dark places?

I've never been there
Can't begin to understand,
To sympathise or help.
There's nothing I can say or do,
You know the feeling.
Sometimes we see no rhyme or rhythm.
Maybe it's hidden, maybe it's just
Sometimes it feels like the Hows and the Whys
Have burned out and faded to ash.

I cried.
I know that doesn't help.
It would be stupid to care, I suppose,
I should joke and move on,
Try not to let the pain touch too close to home.
Can worrying help you grow an inch taller?
Live a day longer?

I prayed.
I know that doesn't help,
Or if it does, it helps silently, invisibly,
Creeping along the carpet and onto your bed and into your heart -
Doing invisible things, perhaps.

I can't carry your pain,
Would I if I could?
I don't know, you said yourself -
You can't die to heal another.
You can't, I can't. (He can, you know he can)

I don't understand
It's not fair
Not fair