VAN DER GRAAF GENERATOR

Afterwards

 

You stare out in yellow eyes larger than my mind;
in viscous pools of joy, relaxing, we glide...
it's all too beautiful
for my mind to bear.
and, as we shimmer into sleep, something's unshared.
But, seeing the flower that was there yesterday,
a tear forms just behind the soft peace of your shades...
The world's too lonely
for a message to slip
but between the dying rails of peace
you trip.
The petals that were blooming are just paper in your hand;
your eyes, which were clear in the night, are opaque as you stand...
It was too beautfiul
for it to last...
These visions shimmer and fade out of
the glass.

 

 

 

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Wondering

I will arise:

in the depths, I will open my eyes;

as my breath almost fails me, survive.

Wait - there's something unclear,

there's something I fear now drawing close.

Could it be you? Whose is that voice?

Is it now time to make a choice?

Ah - that irrational pain!

This ridiculous brain now bursts with joy.

Could it be me? Could it be now?

Should I begin to take my vows?

I will return:

as I live, as I breathe, as I burn

I swear I will come through,

with my hands stretching out in the dark,

with my eye pressed up tight to the glass,

wondering if it's all been true.

Forsaken Gardens

 

Where are all the joys of yesterday?

Where, now, is the happiness and laughter that we shared?

Gone, like our childhood dreams, aspirations and beliefs;

time is a thief, and he ravages our gardens,

stripping saplings, felling trees,

trampling on our flowers, sucking sap and drying seeds.

In the midnight candle-light of experience

all colour fades, green fingers grey.

Time, alone, shall murder all the flowers,

still, there's time to share our plots and all that we call 'ours'.

How much worse, then, if we all deny each others' needs

and keep our gardens privately?

Its getting colder, wind and rain leave gashes;

looking back, I only see the friends I've lost.

Fires smoulder, raking through the ashes

my hands are dirty, my mind is numb,

I count the cost of 'I':

"I need to get on, I've got to tend my garden;

got to shut you out, no time to crave your pardon now".

Now I see the garden that I've grown is 

just the same as those outside;

the fences that, erected to protect, simply divide....

There's ruination everywhere, 

the weather has played havoc with the grass...

does anyone believe his garden's really going to last?

In the time allotted us, can any man keep miserly his own?

Is there any pleasure in a solitary growth?

Come and see my garden if you will,

I'd like someone to see it all before each root is killed.

Surely now its time to open up each life to all,

tear down the walls, if it's not too late!

There is so much sorrow in the world,

there is so much emptiness and heartbreak and pain.

Somewhere on the road we have all taken a wrong turn...

how can we build the right path again?

Through the grief, through the pain,

our flowers need each other'srain....

...................................................        

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