Copyright 1980 by Clyde Bookes. All rights reserved.
Published in 1998 by Hoeffmeir Publishing Company,
Rockport, MA
The song playing is "For No One" by Lennon/McCartney.
Midi file downloaded from And
in the Dark .
* excerpt from "Wish You Were Here", 1975 Pink Floyd
Music Company.
For no one...
Dreams reveal;
Hopes sustain;
ambitions that live,
though hidden fears
conceal them
in rational and secret
fantasies.
Fantasies,
secret and rational,
in them conceal fears,
hidden though live,
that ambition sustains.
Hopes reveal dreams.
Life is not a palindrome.
We cannot live it front to back.
The mistakes we make in youth
are not balanced by the wisdom
of old age;
and still we make mistakes.
.
Hold I night
til morning
steals my dreams,
and leaves me wonder;
Can ever I be more?…
Dreams.
Morning breaks.
A new hope rises.
So many possibilities
before me lie.
So many challenges,
and mountains to climb.
I shall overcome them all,
and rise above the dawn
of those who
think
so little of me.
Put your dreams away, my boy.
Save them for tomorrow;
So you'll be ready when the reaper comes…
but alas, he comes today.
Desperately climbing
one more mountain
but to find
upon each summit
there is no higher point
to climb to
and either side
leads only
to a valley
of the past.
I can see the
hills before me
and I am not
afraid to climb;
For I tread softly
upon this soil
and all the future
lies before me.
Gray clouds
obscure my vision
for but a day.
They will pass
or I shall rise above them.
There is little time for sadness,
and no need for looking back.
If power corrupts,
it surely is a pity
it is not the only thing that does.
For, few things are as corrupt
as the powerless among us.
Daddy, why do people fight?
Maybe men make wars so
maybe someone will fight
on their side, huh?
Maybe, they win respect if they kill,
and honor if they die, huh?
Is that close, Daddy?
Why are you always asking silly questions?
Don't you have homework to do?
Go to your, Sarah, huh.
I'm busy right now.
Daddy, will you tell me again about before the Light?
Well, before the Light, people hurt each other
Both physically and mentally.
There was hate and war and killing even
between people whose paths had never crossed before.
How could they do that, Daddy?
You see, all the people wanted to believe
they were better than everybody else.
Deep in their hearts, they knew this was wrong,
but they never realized it or admitted it to themselves.
They saw how people are different and made the differences
Into faults. That way they felt they were better
than everybody else.
Why didn't they talk and find out they were wrong?
Thinking they were superior, the people were suspicious
of other people, so they made the other people believe
the other people were inferior to the first people.
How did they do that?
They took something that there was a limited supply
of
And made it valuable by hoarding it, so there wasn't
enough to go around. People wanted what other
people
couldn't get. This made them feel important.
Soon,
people were killing for things they didn't really want
or
need,
but they felt inferior because they didn't have those
things.
That could never happen, really. Could it, Daddy?
No, I suppose not…not really.
Old man, ask me
where I go;
As though you might know,
or I might need your approval.
I will go
where I will go;
And I will find
what life will show me…
and may I die
before ever
I have seen too much.
Who are you,
That you should live past me?
Who are you,
to curse at
what I've done?
Ah yes, it is life's way.
"…And your children shall
curse you."
For youth shall always surpass
Its elders…
Yet, the world remains the same.
Speak to me.
Let me know your mind.
Bleed jet black ink
and cry your tears in words;
So that I may know
they do exist
and they can escape.
Dream of a vision;
from yesterday,
praying for a glimpse
of an angry face…
It's funny to feel
you've lost
something you
never had…
How can you find it,
when you're incapable of looking for it?
Days fade away
with the blinking of an eye.
A lost idea,
forgotten in a dream,
quietly seeps back
into my memory
like the first cloud
of an overcast day.
It will be over soon
and I never can return
to the ordinate life
I once led.
Kiss me, darling, before the storm.
Let me know you want me
even before you need me.
Tell me you love me
before we're old and lonely
and have no one else.
Say you'll be with me,
before you're homeless
and I'll promise to be there
when you are.
Times we cried
and shared our sorrow;
somehow, the best times
of our lives.
Through our pain and grief
we seemed
to grow together,
while the world tried hardest
to keep us apart.
But, when the fight was won,
the dust all settled,
the peace we fought so long to gain
had slipped away
through the confusion of battle;
lost as victory was won.
But, as our lives
may drift apart,
as we seek our lost happiness,
a single thread will
forever bind us
as we recall
our tears, so many,
and remember, too
the small joys
we gave each other.
Come to me, O sacred love.
If you be of spirit,
I will die to be with you.
If you be a dream,
I vow never to wake.
So oft have I dreamt of thee
you could not be real…
but if,indeed, you are,
I shall never dream again.
Come to me, love
and I'll forsake
all that I am worth
just to be near you
and gaze into your eyes
one time to weave a memory.
A memory to last forever,
and brave the storms of time.
I will remember how I held you,
though I knew
you could not
be mine.
My lover stood before me…
My lonely, empty life had ended;
or so I thought
at that brief moment.
A friend of many conversations;
of many hopes and dreams,
my lover stood before me.
In her hand she held a rose...
A rose; a symbol...
such beauty
so dear
it seems eternal.
Yet, all too soon,
it is but a fading memory.
"Fare thee well".
She
soke so softly,
I tried to believe
she spoke not at all.
Then, again, she said,
"Fare thee well".
I sit content
just to see you.
I know we will not converse.
I could never hope to hold you;
your love is with another.
And, though my heart will always
yearn for your love,
I would be happy if I could
only remain in your presence;
forever a silent
friend
who perchance could be more...
so very much more.
Tender love
I curse thy touch.
As a siren's song
I perceive thy hand.
Your joyful blessing
is mere entrapment.
In each sweet caress
there lies the sharpest dagger
to twist my mind
til I know it not
and severe my words
til they lose all meaning.
You sit all alone
on a cold stone wall,
on a busy city street;
thinking about all you've lost.
I have no cure
for the illness that plagues you.
For if I did,
I would cure myself.
But please,
let me be lonely with you.
We sit together
and stare at the light
that illuminates their road;
but leaves the path we travel
completely dark.
I would like to take you home,
but I well know
we may not find home
again.
Let me be lonely with you.
We, immobile,
crippled from the inside
and hands broken
from reaching out,
may exist,
but neverr live.
At least,
we are two.
Let me be lonely with you.
You
sing a psalm of love
as if we could attain it
at will.
Love is a wondrous grace
which blesses us.
Oft ill-timed
and more often
ill-placed,
it can be a curse.
Lust is but an instinct
and cares so little
for our goals.
But time is portioned to us
to make of
what we will.
And we horde it greedily,
and spend with so much caution;
and, perhaps,
that makes it precious;
such short supply
so much demand;
for, everybody craves it;
far more than else I've mentioned.
From time grow bonds
mistaken for these others.
For, it is not the
chance of love
which makes
the longest marriages.
It is not the wildest sex
which makes
the greatest lover.
For, these things are often fleeting
and leave us colder
than before we found them.
Time is what
all crave
from each other.
Time is what we hide from enemies.
Those who take time
to say "hello"
become our friends.
Those who share their time
with us
often
become our lovers;
and those who share our dreams
become our mates.
I sit here,
telling you all I feel;
what I think
and what I've lived.
We talk for fifteen minutes.
I feel close to you.
Then, I suddenly realize;
I'm alone.
You were never here.
Still, I mean all I've said.
We're very close,
but I'm still alone...
all
alone.
Nights alone
without a dream...
What is forgotten?
How can one know?
Know only;
once there was a feeling
that made it all
worthwhile,
and it is still
waiting there,
if only I could find it.
I heard the news,
there was good rockin'
last night.
I remember when I was
young enough
to dance...
No, that's misleading;
I could still dance if I wished.
I was young enough
then,
to want to dance.
What happened?
Years can sometimes
make one fragile;
but experience
more often
makes one forget;
forget the world was once new;
forget that we can dream...
forget to dance.
You have my attention,
my pity,
my strife
for two-thirds of my day.
I'll live in your world, see all the sights,
discuss all the intr~cacies
of your society;
But, when we all settle down
and I give my body a rest,
I must open the door
and see what I think.
I'll take a trip
a midnight junket
to the soul
in a simpler term,
I will dream.
Dreams where thoughts
reign supreme
desires are revealed
and hopes are fulfilled
perhaps, even guidance is given...
and I never remember more than I should.
Glaring through a pool of confusion,
not black but merely clouded;
For, if it were black,
I would be free
to see what I would
and create a reality of my own.
But the clouds have shapes
and cast shadows
and leave clues of reality;
clues sent only to puzzle
and not to reveal.
Did you ever feel
that you wanted to be
just another wheel
fitting into the place
where you think you belong?
Cold steel that has no feeling,
responsibility or pain;
blindly obedient, deathly free.
I think I'll stand in the rain;
just an impulse
to follow what I feel
and be
what I know
they won't accept.
Run for tomorrow.
Flee from your life.
Look toward the future.
Years from now you will discover
endless yesterdays
and you will weep,
not for the pain,
the loss, nor sorrow,
not for the life,
nor joy, nor memories,
but for the lack;
for nothing.
You will weep,
for nothing...
cry, for no one...
Time, sweet time,
swift is thy flight
and painful thy wrath.
You grant man his knowledge
then, all too soon,
it does him no good.
Time, sweet time,
gentle is thy touch
but, like the one I love,
you are too soon gone.
I am an escape artist
and no chains of reality
can bind me.
I cannot be held
by the prison of
another man's rules;
For, I have picked
the lock of time
and discovered
the weakest link
in the chain
of the universe.
Fortune has no soldiers,
and has no need of them.
It rules iron-fisted over its subjects
and is an obedient subject
to its rulers.
My mind is like the tar
dripping from the ceiling;
frozen in time and space
it knows no pressure.
It hangs suspended from the ceiling;
free and obscure.
It once knew life,
but now it is frozen.
Now it can only
watch
what is below it.
It is never touched
and seldom observed.
I sit looking down.
perplexed by the reflections
that I see
when I look up,
I am deeply troubled to find
everything is distorted
in a horrible way.
It seems to me,
the reflection is real;
a mirror of truth
while our reality
reflects man's view.
I see the errors
I could not correct;
yet, I know it is false.
I pray for an answer
and a peaceful mind.
Now I see.
It's very simple.
I sit looking up;
perplexed by the reflections
of the real world.
There is nothing so juvenile
as acting like an adult.
There is nothing so fool-hardy
as feigned wisdom.
Truth so oft eludes the seeker
that he sees it not before him.
For, Truth is not brought forth from hiding
nor excavated from 'neath the lies.
It need never be proven
to those who see it not,
nor explained to those who dispute it.
No, Truth flows freely,
more freely than lies,
and is twice as stealthy.
We need not seek;
merely cease to repress it.
Will I ever be free
of this emptiness
that plagues me
each time I reach
a zenith in spirit
and feel myself complete?
It seems only a short while
until I plummet down
nearly to where I started.
"Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.'*
I was fined the cost of freedom;
a price I could not pay,
for it consists of
independence,
persistance;
thinking my own way;
being free to agree
or argue til out of breath.
It is responsibility
to respect the rights of others;
for they are free to choose
whether they respect mine.
Truth is a cancer
that can destroy a soul.
The search for Truth makes us
bold, wise and good,
but once we have found it,
our hypocrisies soil our consciences.
We see ourselves as the worst things living
and the world as the worst place to be.
Failure to rectify this situation
increases the guilt and the hate
within us.
The inner turmoil won't cease.
We try to lie, but it won't work;
not any more.
We know the Truth.
Truth brings pain, grief and struggle.
Truth is a prison,
but to seek it is the highest freedom.
It should not be found until
it is fulfilled.
Truth is a cancer
that can destroy a soul.
Do you ever feel the walls
closing in on you,
choking your soul
and crushing your heart?
Are they harder than granite?
Are they endlessly tall?;
and infinitely long?
Are there no windows?
Is there no air?
Your eternal prison;
and you laid the bricks.
Yesterday's dreams
fade into tomorrow's void
and die
an unmourned death.
Abandoned for "sensibility",
they are
left to starve;
unfed by imagination;
perhaps, for the best
if there is no essape,
how can a prison be judged?
Borrowed reasons for living,
taken from men who knew their direction,
explained in ways I could not understand;
they are the paths
I followed
for, oh so many years;
until I found
there are no paths,
no woods to fight through...
life is an open field
of wild flowers.
Guru teach me your way of life.
Pureness of heart
and clearness of soul
is all that I seek.
May we speak a moment?
Will you stop to preach?
I wish to learn of your holy ways.
Teach me, guru,
how everyone is wrong
but you are right;
how evil is the world;
no one can be trusted...
no one but you.
Teach me, guru,
to conquer my soul;
so it will lie silent
to my hypocrisy.
Disclose all your evils,
for then only good remains.
Show me Truth
is a lie,
and your life's as good as dead.
Teach me, guru,
and I'll pray for your lost soul.
Blessed be he
who bringeth mirth
into the darkest caverns
of men's hearts;
For it is the greatest weapon
in the war against fear
and the mightiest shield
to protect us from hate.
Happy demons frolic in the moonlight.
Congenial spirits, they mean no harm,
so they say, "only to bring joy
to those poor suffering souls
whose need is most dear."
I see no harm in keeping their company.
They encourage me to do nothing
but enjoy that which is mine.
It can do no harm, for,
I feel no pain.
Preacher, how durst thou
preach against my friends,
when they bring only good tidings tonight?
But alas,
tomorrow
I arn alone in my misery.
Faces I have never seen
glare back at me
when I face a mirror.
Why do you haunt me,
visions?
You seem not to bring torment,
though you bring no joy.
Perhaps, you desire
only my consideration
of who I am and
the path I must tread.
You are the catalyst
for rememberences of things
that never happened,
sights that have no form,
and feelings that I cannot describe.
Canst thou not cross
but this narrow path?
Forsooth, no obstructions
lay in wait.
Yet,
you stumble
upon your own limbs.
Truly,
when one can
no longer stand fast,
the time has come to move.
When suffocation draws near,
it is most wise to draw a breath.
Canst thou not see
the light just beyond?
One step beyond, it lies;
ready to consume thee
with its strength.
Let not your feet wander.
Let not your eyes stray.
For, you follow false reflections.
The vision is before you
only open your mind.
The black pool for which
you cease your quest
is nothing more
than the fear
within your heart.
Let your ears be deaf
to all around you.
Listen instead, to the voice
of your soul.
Let not your feet wander.
Let not your eyes stray.
For, you follow false reflections.
The vision is before you
only open your mind.
A baby's cry;
a song of youth; curse it not.
It is a joy,
like so many,
lost while possessed,
then missed when gone
too soon.