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129.
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That's what you do
If I were your one and only
baby I'm sure you could show me
how to take away the dark
and lead me to the light
but in a world that's full of madness
with a heart that's full of sadness
I realised you couldn't care less
but baby that's alright
For I was wishing on a star
I thought that I had come so far
I didn't realise
that you had mirror eyes
and wishes don't come true
I gave away my last remains
I thought that it was love I gained
but in a world of woe
when you've nowhere else to go
that's what you do
I thought this could be the first time
I thought this could be the last time
I thought maybe this time
everything would turn out right
I hoped we would be like lovers
I hoped we would be forever
your book was nothing like the cover
but baby that's alright
I guess I'll have some lonely nights
at least you left me with some fight
to overcome the tears
and overcome the fears
of what you do
you shouldn't play with peoples hearts
then slowly watch them fall apart
when you play your little game
lovers hanging on a chain
that's what you do.
Charles M. Moore
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130.
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The book without a tale
In a book of empty chapters
full of verse with missing lines
changing suffering for worship
in a song that never rhymes
giving meaning to the pages
that reply with shades of light
from beginning through the ages
you thought words would give you sight
Mirrors flatter your existence
values no one else has shared
you believed you were a partner
in the industry you shared
visions gained but now forgotten
kept in pockets where you keep
all the other treasures valued
with the words you'll never speak
Hope is something that you'll deal with
as you gather up the dust
with opinions that you sweep into
a bucket full of rust
feelings clamber on your shoulders
like the jacket that you wear
and display in front of millions
representing what you share
Teachers lie at your insistance
as you hold on to the gun
praising all your empty pages
and the things you never done
every word just like the last one
in a never ending sale
of compliance from the masses
in the book without a tale.
Charles M. Moore
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131.
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The candle is still burning.
When you heard the music playing
as he lay there in his coffin
and you know his seeds still growing
though his body lies there rotting
and you tried to make a necklace
from the wisdom pearls he threw you
but they soon became a noose
and made you wonder if he knew you
so you cried and left the scented air
filled room with prayers murmers
wonder why you ever went there?
was it just to check the numbers
on the hymn sheet that they gave you
as you knelt before the alter
you remember you were held there
as they splashed your head with water
the annointment didn't soak in
didn't make you a believer
though you grew up like a pilgrim
searching out for a redeemer
one to show you the attraction
of the life you have been leading
so you cleared your throat and sang
with others of a new beggining
and the candle keeps on burning
and you keep the candle bright
a reminder in the daytime
to protect you in the night.
You walked along the shoreline
crushing sand beneath your feet
like the myriad before you
that you knew you'd never meet
and the water lapped away
the steps of time you left behind
as your thoughts burst from your forehead
like a beacon in your mind
illuminating everything you ever said or done
and you reach out in temptation
like a soldier for a gun
for the youthful times when you believed
the ideas that you had
when you wore the badges colours
when you thought the world was mad
how they gave you strength and courage
like the others that you knew
as you marched against the many
even though you were so few
and you still recall the slogans
but you haven't got the time
for the politicians ramblings
are just another sign
like the sand beneath your feet
your small impression fades away
still you keep the candle burning
and you live another day.
The grasses may be many
and the flowers may be few
but they stand out oh so clearly
in the meadows that you knew
where you played when you were children
and you cupped them like a dove
like the memories you choose now
of the days you were in love
with somebody that you cherished
with a passion to endure
with the heartbeat of a drummer
who is going off to war
with the prospect and excitement
that was never going to fail
still you keep the candle burning
and you tell another tale.
You still recall vermillion suns
that looked like a balloon
someone gave you at a sports day
when you won the egg and spoon
how your mother came to greet you
with a teardropp in her eye
at the joy of your accomplishment
and hugs that made you sigh
like the tenderness your lover showed
when asking for a kiss
for the first time you agreed
and felt the moisture on their lips
like a petal of a flower
that you brushed against your skin
that awoke in you the tenderness
that lit the candles flame.
Where to now? , You ask the question
as your standing by the grave
in the penetrating darkness
of the one you couldn't save
from all that you had learned
and so much more you never knew
as you throw a flower earthwards
and you gaze the sky to view
a flock of doves fly in the sunset
that were startled by the sound
of the churchbell as it rang out
as the flower hit the ground
when the mourners started weeping
so you turned your head away
and pretended being strong
meant there was nothing left to say
slowly walking to the car
that led you to this fateful time
still you kept the candle burning
with the thoughts inside your mind.
Charles M. Moore
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132.
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The Cat
I have a cat called conscience
who treats me with disdain
I'm just a slave or servant
looking after her domain
she tells me when to get her food
or if she wants some milk
and finds the hottest spot she can
upon my favourite quilt
All day she sleeps upon her chair
till nightime draws her shade
then like a tart she trawls the street
to ply her favourite trade
returning home when morning comes
she rushes in the door
demanding that I get her food
and place it on the floor
Sometimes she sits beside the fire
and then just for a laugh
she'll lick the salt between my toes
when I get out the bath
I know that I'm not good enough
for such a royal line
but then I keep her company
and she thinks that's just fine.
Charles M. Moore
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