Anthem at 32

Usha, as promised, here's my anthem at 32, with the 1 at 16 (O'Shaughnessy's poem) as reference point. There are 3, in fact; all from the annals of Floyd, and all equally chilling. Its an "insider" joke with my close friends that every b'day of any of us, I come up with the same lines- "...shorter of breath, 1 day / year closer to death..." rahter than the conventional trilling of the happy- bird-day song. And its an inescapable fact that with every passing day, the desolate possibility comes just that miniscule bit closer: "...plans that either come to nought...or half a page of scribbled lines..."

TIME

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day

You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town

Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine

staying home to watch the rain.

You are young and life is long

and there is time to kill today.

And then one day you find

ten years have got behind you.

No one told you when to run,

you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking

Racing around to come up behind you again.

The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,

Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter

never seem to find the time.

Plans that either come to naught

or half a page of scribbled lines

Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way

The time is gone, the song is over,

Thought I'd something more to say.

***

Cheerful buggers, weren't they?

Breathe

...

Long you live and high you fly

And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

And all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be.

Run, rabbit run.

Dig that hole, forget the sun,

And when at last the work is done

Don't sit down it's time to dig another one.

For long you live and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards an early grave.

Your Possible Pasts

they flutter behind you your possible pasts

some brighteyed and crazy,

some frightened and lost

a warning to anyone still in command

of their possible future to take care

in derilict sidings the poppies entwine

with cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time

do you remember me? how we used to be?

do you thing we should be closer?

she stood in the doorway the ghost of a smile

haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign

her cold eyes imploring the men in their macs

for the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs

stepping up boldly one put out his hand

he said, "i was just a child then now i'm only a man"

do you remember me? how we used to be?do you thing we should be closer?

by the cold and religious we were taken in hand

shown how to feel good and told to feel bad

tongue tied and terrified we learned how to pray

now our feelings run deep and cold as the clay

and strung out behind us the banners and flags

of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags

do you remember me? how we used to be?do you thing we should be closer?