lies

Skipping Ropes

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

Down by the river, down by the sea
Johnny broke a bottle and then blamed me.
When he doesn’t blame me, he will blame you
And I can’t tell if his lies are true.

The game is up, the game is down.
The rules are bent and turned around.
We’ve got no access to the facts.
The words on the page have all been cracked.

The news is fogged and the page is torn.
The road they tread is so well worn.
They’ll find a way to bend the law.
These games are played behind closed doors.

I saw a broadcast on TV,
I’ll blame you, you blame me.
The same this time as the time before.
Jump the rope and head for war.

The wind, the wind, the wind blows high,
It blows little Shana through the sky.
She was young and she was pretty
She was the girl from the target city.

Proverbs

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I wouldn’t dare judge a book by it’s cover.
I might miss the silver lining, hovering there.
There is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip
and a worm can always turn.

Cut your coat to suit your cloth.
There are still more bridges to cross.
The age of miracles is past
but the exception may still prove the rule.

Speaking of rules, there is one rule
for the rich and one for the poor.
Power corrupts. Here is the wish I would grant;
May their bread fall buttered side down.

In this world of Chinese whispers,
distorted facts and appealing fictions,
all pearls roll before swine.
It will unravel in time.

If we listen with care
we may hear a whisper that’s pure.
April showers are plentiful
but they bring forth the flowers of May.

Children and fools tell the truth
and let’s hope the truth will out.
We live to be loved, and to love, again, on another day.
Blue are the hills that are far away.

Outcast

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

i, the banished, outcast rook
in a crooked, twisted tree
from far away i see you there
you don’t look and don’t see me

i see your faces as you pass
i see your truths, i see your lies
your stories written in your eyes
all these things are clear to me

outside
always looking in
feathers ruffled by the wind
watching for a winter sun

the beauty of the world, begun,
hangs above the vaulted dark,
the certainties of fathomed night,
and there, see there….the flash, the spark

i see the twinkle of the star
the door still stands and swings ajar

Fools!

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

the subtle changes of seasons
repeat and repeat
as they always have done
the wind and the rain
the storm and the sun
returning again and again

i notice each flower that grows
each new sapling that quickens
each ancient tree that sickens
so much is happening,
so much that threatens
this turning circle of life

i don’t understand the reasons
treachery thickens
the world’s full of war
and while we’re distracted
by power and strife
nobody works together
to care for these most precious things

nothing is ever foreseen
by those who claim to be wise
they cover confusion with lies
they don’t look to the future
they don’t look behind
while they squabble
the world turns to havoc
and dies

if i looked down from above
if i looked down from the stars
if i looked with no love
I’d laugh

2016

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

a child that wakes from a nightmare,
bewildered and shadowed by fears,
stumbles in hazy panic
to the warmth of his parents bed
and crawls to their welcoming arms
beneath the sheltering sheets

a child in the war torn city
alone, a stranger to hope,
wanders though shattered streets
his eyes wiped clear of all dreams,
his eyes empty of tears,
in a world too dreadful for weeping
his face is a silent grimace
he clutches dry earth in his fist
to feel that he still exists

in a world with no semblance of peace
in a world with no certain sanctuary
in a world consumed by evil
a child cowers down in a corner
to be laid on the plate for consumption
surrounded by knives, trapped on the tines,
of the meal being served at high tables,
the meal of heartless greed,
the meal where the heartless feed

the scales of justice are tilted
in favour of keeping us blind
our good words are strangled and taken
twisted in tortuous ways
in Orwellian double-speak
by leaders and politicians
aided by media giants
the beacon fires are forsaken
our noble desires serve their lies

this is no bed time nightmare
this is reality
there is no protective sheet
no arms wait to embrace them
no place for the victims to hide
the world is falling apart
bring me your huddled masses
will never be spoken again

that voice in the crack of the pavement
is silenced or never heard
refugees, with nowhere to shelter,
rot at the side of the road,
driven and slaughtered cattle
washed up on the incoming tides,
their quiet insistent whisper
swishes in blood and rain

all for the lack of honour
all for the lack of justice
all for the lack of love

When the blackbird sings

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

You tell me of bad weather news
And how the price of food went up.
You quote the words of politicians,
I agree they’re open lies.
You worry there will be a drought.
I think about the falling rivers
And how the willows give it shade.
My mind begins to drift.

I know my eyes are far away.
I try to hold on to your words
Like broken branches floating by.
I sense a sigh you’re holding in.
Yes,
I’m doing it again.
I smile and look in your eyes,
Signifying my return.

You speak about the greater issues,
How your life is troubling you.
I nod.
You know I understand.
It’s true that life is problematic.
It’s true I’m tired of being strong.
I wish to tightly grasp your hand
And take you through another door,
The door that’s slowly opening now,
That leads into another land.
I hear your words,
I hear a song,
That echoes in the depth of pools.

There’s only one place left to hide.
The leaves are growing up our walls,
There’s mud and ash across the floor.
The wind that’s blown the window wide
Brings a scent of woodland paths
And bluebells by the flowing stream.
I can hear the blackbird now,
It signals that it’s time to leave.
My heart is very far away.
I dream of other worlds.
I’ve seen.

Dragon

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

i knew a dragon
as big as a wagon
he couldn’t hide anywhere
so i took him up to a mountain
as far as i know he’s still there
in a cave by a fountain

he is probably brooding
or doodling maps
to the treasure that he keeps
a quill held tight in his claw
as he thinks of old adventures
and the many wonders he saw

if you don’t dream of him
while he dreams of you
there is no need to fear his size
or the fire in his belly and eyes
he is a peaceful dragon
and this poem is full of lies