Dronee
1
MUSE AND INSPIRATION
The twinkling stars who fade away
One by one and day by day
Yet the morning sun would never grace
Since you were gone without a trace
And a moment's touch of your visage
A lovely face loved much too much
Was it memory or a wishful dream?
Since you were gone, my life I limp
Still forgive me if this song unsung
Had intruded upon your dreams unstrung
Permit the remembrance of us unlived
And let me mourn the love ungrieved
Have you never known of that I've yearned?
Would you never know, would you ever learn
In me imbued the whispering passion
For you my muse... my inspiration.
******
WARD 2000
(Thanks to the person on SPW who introduced me to Bob Dylan yesterday.)
This is the hospital where everyone lives
Where grief is the disease and life prognosis
"What ifs", "could bes" but "never is"
And the doctors run headless, heedless and bored
They cooked some potions, the witches' recipe
Some call it money and some call it honey
A comic tragedy for the patients in waiting
Who busily and hungrily reached for what's now dangling
The nurses who walk and dance and prance
Who retreat and advance in varied clothing
They brought naught nothing but canned words of nothing
With patient patients who shared their cures
The homesick patients who laughed and lazed
Their cars their deathbeds to race in place
In a hurry to take their medication all paid
And maybe steal a few from the guy next bed
Their medicine is passion, a profession of lethargy
Profess not nothing but great duress
They sought out rest and sleep in turn
Medicated emaciated and still quaffing their medicine
The doctors nod and have long since learned
And boy do they love the taste of their own medicine
They built large factories to keep on churning
Even as the countryside and river lies poisoned and burning
But alas for the denizens of ward 2000
Little children who refused the medicine
They dared not talk with the other patients
So lie humbled in solitude's presence
Who were not blind to the world outside
The poisoned trees just by the wayside
It's crimson dark and toxic green
The mirror of the sky as it has always been
But unseen unheard was ward 2000
As the hospital staff and charge rejoice and burned
The sick and sick all but hand in hand
It's just a funny little marching band
So march on proudly into tomorrow
Where money grows out of patient sorrow
And lo and behold, it'll be like magic
The panacea will come, twice twice as tragic
And all men and women will take the cure
Except ward 2000, those hopeless bores
Their core still whole, their souls unsold
Silly children who can't take medicine....
Silly children who can't take medicine....
The anxious eyes of ward 2000....
The twinkling stars who fade away
One by one and day by day
Yet the morning sun would never grace
Since you were gone without a trace
And a moment's touch of your visage
A lovely face loved much too much
Was it memory or a wishful dream?
Since you were gone, my life I limp
Still forgive me if this song unsung
Had intruded upon your dreams unstrung
Permit the remembrance of us unlived
And let me mourn the love ungrieved
Have you never known of that I've yearned?
Would you never know, would you ever learn
In me imbued the whispering passion
For you my muse... my inspiration.
******
WARD 2000
(Thanks to the person on SPW who introduced me to Bob Dylan yesterday.)
This is the hospital where everyone lives
Where grief is the disease and life prognosis
"What ifs", "could bes" but "never is"
And the doctors run headless, heedless and bored
They cooked some potions, the witches' recipe
Some call it money and some call it honey
A comic tragedy for the patients in waiting
Who busily and hungrily reached for what's now dangling
The nurses who walk and dance and prance
Who retreat and advance in varied clothing
They brought naught nothing but canned words of nothing
With patient patients who shared their cures
The homesick patients who laughed and lazed
Their cars their deathbeds to race in place
In a hurry to take their medication all paid
And maybe steal a few from the guy next bed
Their medicine is passion, a profession of lethargy
Profess not nothing but great duress
They sought out rest and sleep in turn
Medicated emaciated and still quaffing their medicine
The doctors nod and have long since learned
And boy do they love the taste of their own medicine
They built large factories to keep on churning
Even as the countryside and river lies poisoned and burning
But alas for the denizens of ward 2000
Little children who refused the medicine
They dared not talk with the other patients
So lie humbled in solitude's presence
Who were not blind to the world outside
The poisoned trees just by the wayside
It's crimson dark and toxic green
The mirror of the sky as it has always been
But unseen unheard was ward 2000
As the hospital staff and charge rejoice and burned
The sick and sick all but hand in hand
It's just a funny little marching band
So march on proudly into tomorrow
Where money grows out of patient sorrow
And lo and behold, it'll be like magic
The panacea will come, twice twice as tragic
And all men and women will take the cure
Except ward 2000, those hopeless bores
Their core still whole, their souls unsold
Silly children who can't take medicine....
Silly children who can't take medicine....
The anxious eyes of ward 2000....