[Oe List ...] As we wake

[Paula Philbrook]

Thank you Tim
Paula

On Thu, Sep 11, 2008 at 9:06 PM, Tim Casswell <
timcasswell at creativeconnection.co.uk> wrote:

>
> Dear Colleagues,
>
> On this 7th anniversary I thought I would send you my song lyrics again. I
> think it stills feels relevant.
> I sang the song today at a small commemorative meeting at the Royal
> Festival Hall.
>
> Tim
>
>   As We Wake (after W.H. Auden)
>
> *cold fires still smouldering on wall street
> while hope expires the day and night still meet
> in secret dread  we've all been waiting for
> dust clouds spread while flames still melt the core
> unable to forget what we just cannot remember
> the sweet smell of death clouds twilight in September
>
> towers burst in consummation of anger, truth and grief
> powerful penetrations sink in beyond belief
> calculated cruelty inclusive and precise
> the shocking beauty of the public sacrifice
> in the grip of that habit-forming pain
> channel flipping to see it all again.
>
> everybody's listening no one's got much to say
> except for reminiscing about what they were doing that day
> sad flag wavers know it's too late for the parade
> it passed by a while ago on the way to the crusade
> and everybody knows what we never seem to learn
> those to whom evil is done do evil in return *
>
> * *
>
> *meanwhile every lonely heart craves what it cannot own
> from the very start it's bred into the bone
> no universal love can melt this steel and stone
> that pious dove cannot sufficiently atone
> for each final message from each desperate mobile phone
> searching for a signal that we do not die alone
>
> defenceless in the night the world in stupor lies;
> little points of light as the lonely evening dies
> everybody's talking though few of them are heard
> something deeper than revenge seems to have been stirred
> just at the point of knowing that our hearts must surely break
> a cock is crowing three times as we wake.
>
> from the tunnels of conformity crowded commuters come
> in uniform deformity to some distant drum
> repeat the morning vow in the stiff compulsive game
> Everything Will Now Continue On the Same
> nothing can release them from the corridors of power
> nothing can be done for those who were not in the tower *
>
>
>
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>


-- 
Paula
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