Wicked Truths

Fear and guilt implied
You provoked a scene
Now the world has lied
To deny what’s been

Guilty conscience herd
Legislation late
Undermining words
We’d all love to hate

Did you really think
With the box in hand
No one snuck a peek
In the whole damn land?

Were we so naive
Docile and secure
That we disbelieve
All the things he saw?

Now the whistle blown
Plays a waiting game
As he’s hunted down
For exposing shame

And our lives go on
At the same slow pace
While we log each bomb
Lobbed in cyberspace

Jean Pierre, Clochard

Le clochard qui bu
Jusqu’au coin de la rue
A ses valides raisons
Pour le faire

Il n’est riche ni propre
Mais ce qu’il a de trop
C’est une vie passée
Là en pleine aire

Il s’en fou du télé
Et du pays entier
Il n’a pas d’intérêt
Dans le foot

Mais il se trouve content
Ses amis là en front
Et le goût du bon vin
À la bouche

Patriotism in far-off places

My sometime love for hearth and home
Lies not by fire, nor yet with those
Acquaintance of my passing day
For things material fade to grey
And colour-leeched, do turn to dust
They in my plains of mem’ry rust.
But lusty, strong, my heart does beat,
Not gazing ‘pon familiar street,
No haunt it loves, no buildings stir
My choosy organ, yet I fear,
That trav’ling through a countryside
All brown and barren, far and wide
Doth wake in me a tender gleam
For skies of grey and fields of green.
As seen from windows of a train,
My mind’s eye flashes ‘pon the rain
And ‘midst the warmth of climes more sunny
Tho’ yes – I also find it funny
Born not of humour, more of pain
I wish to be back home again.