Song Fragment

There are a million songs
made up from different words
sung to many melodies
yet just one voice is heard.
I sense a million hearts
alive with countless prayers
though my desires are mine alone
in truth they’re just like theirs

It is she

is it she
that births the tears
of joy and pain
is it she
who made the madness
crack my soul again
is it she
who drives the clouds
away from darker days
is it she
who shines like sunlight
into my waiting gaze
is it she
who makes complete
all the parts of me
do I really
need to question
it is she, it is she.

a scribbled partial lyric found in box

my favourite shirt lies on the bed
just like that Nicky Heyward said
and no one pulled the blinds last night
I laugh inside at who I became
on Earle Street in the pouring rain
as my shadows drank up the light

of just another Sunday morning
let regrets play no mind
just another tied on head
push the button to rewind

Another Verse Without A Protest Song

the bells are ringing,
and the sirens singing
to warn of wars that never came
for the end will be dealt
in silence and stealth
and what was won’t come again.

The Harp Decayed (unfinished)

the blessed harp of ancient days is silent
decaying in the rains of winter’s lost
its strapped entrails sing no more of glory
or of the heroes’ blood its songs had cost

Cowboys

What are you dear space cowboy?
at that round up on the moon
are your spurs all full of cheese
and holsters full of spoons?
don’t you know that moonbeams
cannot be herded in
nor can the silver light that shines
be branded on its skin
so take a break space cowboy
and sing your western tunes
the night sky is a lonely range
and most lonesome is the moon.

Song for the younger man

I thought upon your name
as the warm Sinatra rain
sang onto rooftops
this grey September day

and from beyond the tears
I’d collected through the years
I drew a crooked smile
that I know won’t go away

maybe if I dream you right
thoughts of you will come tonight
and in the morning I’ll awake
to a bright new autumn day.

An Alternative First Verse To The Police’s King of Pain Featuring A Duck

There’s a little black duck having fun today
he quacked in B sharp then he flew away
his vocabulary’s weak but his tune is grand
So I’ll grab my kazoo and then join his band

From Another Riverbank (a song for Scott Walker)

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
framed against
the distant clouds

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
singing her song
without words

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
as the rain falls
on the still waters

and the ripples which grow
closer to the other side
roll against the footprints
where she once stood
and whisper my song
too late, too late

while I can only stand
and watch her
from another riverbank

Just Writing

this sunset tastes like
eighty three
then nights were
what they’re meant to be
in which we played
our party games
and in them
parts of us remained