Even love is subject to finance.

Children need their food, their little bed

When we’re cold and hungry we can’t dance

Hoping for real love by happenstance?

Children may be born but are they bred?;

Even love is subject to finance

Do we need the lightness of romance?

Be like little children, one man said

When we’re cold and hungry, there’s no chance

But money by itself lacks elegance.

Tell us more about what some man said

Children’s hands reach out,as if entranced.

Be a slave to love but not finance.

The heart is wise, but reason writhes,is dead

I follow links but somehow lose the thread

Love itself has died on bloody sands

Why should the wounded fearful try to dance?

Unstable weather suits unstable times.

The mood of the electorat e unwinds

People stagger like the risen dead.

Are we all teborn,has noone said?

Boris  threw  some parties. How do you do?

Just keep telling lies until you’re through

Even rain and wind attack our minds.

Is it not the summer,are we blind?

Everything is shifting changing shape.

Are these the doors of hell, the devil’s lame

Can we withstand dictators, can we hold?

The slouching beast from Bethlehem grows bold.

Which way shall we move, what shall we think?

Consternation rises as we blink

Trivial thinking makes a waste of life;
Like polishing your shoes as Jesus dies.
Yet academics often create strife,
With philosophers more intellingent than wise

Perceptions sharp as nail bombs to the eyes
Are diverted onto other paths and lives.
Who will be the one who can surprise?
With which mind may such perception strive?

Who will listen to the chosen one?
Not the men whose faces are unlined.
Who sees truly what we have become?
In whose imagination is the true refined?

Such a furnace is this blacksmith’s yard
Refinement comes by fire and burning hard.