Whose World Is It Anyway - Part II

Men, we are Gods tortured souls
Women, the source of the scouge of our desire
We do not care if on our death
Were tossed into hells fire

For those who’ve braved a womans wrath
Know the Devil is a Doddle
And to the scorching flames he
Will quite happily toddle1

The bins are out, but at the wrong time
And we haven’t done the dishes
But those that do are scorned as fools
Or wimps, but for us to do it she wishes....’

We’ve to be men and be macho:
Show our feminine side and cry -
But do that in front of family or friends
And the lady wishes she would die!

Answer her bum DOES look big in that
Shell through a tantrum and huff
Lie and tell her shes lovely...
(...)

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My Venus, For Your Love, I Cast a Spell

I shall to my hand a candle fetch
Candle small of plainness, of pure white
I as a lover, a fool, a wretch
Shall place it, and with match will light
And bring forth an Aisling of you
Coming to me as I desire
I shall watch it, as candles do
Burn by wick to base with the fire
Having nothing of yours as mine
I shall your image, and mine too
Remembering desires thine
Horses image so loved by you
I shall watch the candle burn to base
Accept the love I get with grace

::: Aisling - gaelic for vision, imagining

::: Poem based on a folk spell for a man
to bring a woman he desires to him, get
a white candle, an object of image of them
both, and an obejct or image of something
the one desired liked. Candle was to be
burned, watched by the desirer, who brings
(...)

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I As Solomon, Seek My Shulem Maiden

Where art thou gone, maiden fair
That I as mine desired to be
But I was as the army last time we met
And fair as the moon, you looked at me

Before leaving, and I you departing saw
Went down the garden of life, where planted in my heart
To see what had bloomed, were they as I thought they'd be
While those chariots of Amminadib brought us apart

I stayed when I was, who had not traveled
Though I have since stood on a Shulem Isle
So near and yet so far from thee
As I remember a blossoming smile

Oh, sing an elegy for Cupid shot down
By a passing anger, and an armies frown!

::: Based on song of Solomon, Chapter 6.
::: As the army, wicket humoured, angry, in destructive mood
::: Chariots of Amminadib are legendry fast chariots.
::: Shulem, Solomon's desired was from Shulem, hence her land.
::: Shulem Isle, an island off of her land, ie Sardinia.

Of Her I Dreamed

Of her I dreamed, upon awaking
I found myself again alone
I was no king, for love forsaking
My kingdom and my throne.
She was no Wallace Simpson
No, she was both pure and good
The loss is mine, she now is gone
Like the waters of the Flood
By her I was swept away
And found I could not swim
And so in emotions unexpressed I drowned
And I find myself today
Thinking back on fleeting whim
When in idleness of mind myself I found.
 
(If Google mangles the translation into Polish and Italian below... sorry!!!)

"O Niej Marzyłem"

O niej marzyłem, po przebudzeniu
Znalazłem się znowu sam
I nie był królem, za porzucenie miłości
Moje królestwo i mój tron.
(...)

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Poems from a Visit to Sassari

Roman Forged Nails

(On seeing origional nails forged by the Romans in Porto Torres. Probably akin to the ones that crucified Christ.)

Was it nails, like these driven
Through Christs limbs, on the cross
Before he dies, as if in vain
For man still sins, to spite the loss
Of life, for all our sins offered
For my soul, and yours to save
Was it nails like these that imapaled the Man
Who rose after three days from the Grave?

Dead Romans Names Upon Stones

(After seeing transcripts of names carved into sacrphages excavated at Porto Romano in Porto Torres town)

Of all the dead among the ruins
The poor, they are remembered not
Only names of the rich are carved in stone
The poor, unrecorded, left to rot

But, for all their riches, these Romans too
(...)

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