Ghouls

We are so keen to keep
The company of knaves
Whose dress and pizzazz is appealing

When our own ones’ arms
Reach out to grasp us
Ever and again unfailing

It’s nice to be invited
But remember you’re a guest
In the strange lands that you wander and roam

And be sure there’s a catch
Their fire can’t be matched
By the warm glow that awaits you at home

Met

Solemn practices of the sacred few
Sending all their woes away
The pews sparsely dotted – a pensioner apiece
Silver, black, and grey

The churchman steps, his humble head
Bowed kind, it is his station
At home a husband breaks his bread
With silence smiling meets


A Fine Career

I was working for the wrong man.
All along that must’ve been the mistake I was making.
One man told me that he held the secret to all my dreams.
He told me what my dreams were.

He told me I dreamt of beautiful women,
And a paradise where all my heroes dwelt.
He claimed to know the way there
And I believed him. His promises were so rich.

I worked myself into the ground for that man
I worked until my arms went stiff
Until I was no longer able to work.
It had been said that he was ‘a hard man to work for.’

Not being able to work, and not being able to dream,
I lost my mind. As casually as I mention it,
It’s not been unknown to happen.
It took me some time to recover from that.

Along the way something reached for me

I knelt, I prayed, and I gave thanks
I accepted the help of others and gave my own hand when I was able
I abstained from practices that would further enfeeble me
I was led to a new way of being, though the path was not always easy

After some time I met a second man.
This man told me that my dreams were nothing more than illusion.
That I could be perfectly happy right where I was.
He told me that I could come and work for him,

But first,

I must relax, let the weight come off my shoulders.
My arms loosened, I told him I felt able to work.
He told me that indeed I looked able and shook my hand.
I began to tell him the troubles of my former job, he put a quick finger to his lips.

He said that working for him would involve helping people
He pointed to some of the areas in his compound
And said that each of them went towards the benefit
Of another person. I couldn’t read his face.

He asked me what I was skilled in, I explained
I told him where I would like to work and he smiled
‘Son, you will work with the tomatoes.’
A sense of tranquillity enveloped me…

There are times I think back to that first man
I wonder how he and the people that work for him are faring
I’m tempted even sometimes, and my dreams slip back in his direction
But for the most part

Better sense prevails