BABYLON'S SONG

The Count In Me

Well of course
But the case may be
We’ve always had
Another mechanism than that you see

For in measure of accountability
One without relying upon
How we appear to be
More than is real to belong
And more than you no not wrong
Thus yet
Not even in words be
This reality
Confounded by mistakes upon why
Real accountability
Is as it is no bind
Unable to find
No tear unable to cry
No life left too dry
Will that you my
Way to rely
Upon this count made high
For to fear with its style
Of facing in reputations try
That you might land of by
Having wrongly assumed of
That exact in another was
As reason to accuse and blame of
Being your own behaviour
Only imagined excused upon
Was never no way to escape
The real retribution of fate
Being no less upon
What we’ve all dreamed well and long
With that to the end of
And yet but belong
Be it far from
Real meaning to go wrong
When words and appearance
But minor facts of clearance


Two Bob

Tell me
After I win
What was meant to begin
And which win at trial
Was then when you sang
After a while
Need I
Excavate the style
Of Bob being some uncle
Who’s failed
But smiles
Since for all he has failed
Nobody believes in
His win
This being in
Among and belonging
Of the strongest song running
Might the way of the first
Prove ever no worse
But that he heard of
The win of the forth
Through doors opened kindly
But by none too wisely
When all doors were mine and
Of he whose light shines at
The end of the tunnel
That points us to life when
Our keys are well read
Our locks greased and oiled
And nobody able to spoil
The worth of our toil
This win will be his when
Young Bob proves his bread
With this on his head


Babylon’s Society

It is my sanity to know
Whatever they’ve done was too slow
For faster I am
That what they can
Prevent me from having known

So while ever they have
Defined me lacking savvy
As with a real disability
All they did was a cover song
Within which I thrive strong

While a drug user they’ve called me
Why it’s nothing but their own envy
Of what they truly know really
That my strength defies their certainty
For as strong as I am is that curtain at

And of the prostitute they accused that
Might my behaviour belie the real fact
For they’ll never deny what they did to me
Of forcing me into her story
This but a taste of Babylon’s glory

It’ll all work out without their knowledge
If only I am let live on in poverty
But who are they I refer to that
This poetry is my real fact
Be no other than the most bizarre story

Of Canberra Gurdjieff Society fat
Might it ever be in real glory
Babylon’s own true society
Is in Spencer-Smart’s aftermath ever lonely
And there never was no crime in that


But

Being like
This is a
Set up
(but)

One city
One structure
One wart on the brain
No shame
Money’s game
Of my fame
To the lame
Not whose blame
This tame
One same
Story plain
And any terrain
Firm brained
Sand but
Shell’s fact
Is this that
Glass had
Clay at
But wood re-grows
No loss to those
Whose lives haven’t known
This day way shown