Papier Mache Freedom


It was an idea that I already had
I wondered often why it might be bad
To read written words in the flickering light
It was a quarter to twelve late one night
Someone was going out to get a masters
Maybe I misheard the word was plasters
Must I really set off the alarm clock?
Whatever happened to the crowing cock?
At the crack of dawn the foggy farmyard
Woke to the tenor of the feathered bard
Like the trumpet call of a holy event
It sounded the same wherever you went
But no more, never more
Edgar Allen Poe
Ah what use is it to lament what is gone?
Must we ensure that every game is won
Until it is no longer any fun?
Making money simply for having run?
It cannot be any better than now
To learn today a great deal more about how
We did things so well only yesterday
Tomorrow can only be made that way
After a warm and safely passed night's sleep
I look out through my small window to peep
To see if anyone is getting dressed
From curiosity with the nose pressed
Against the hardness of the cold glassed pane
To stop loneliness making me insane
I list comprehensively all the chores
And the things to buy at the brand new stores
O what a bore!
All that hysteria and gore!
At the movies we explore as voyeurs
Things we cannot do in our own foyeurs

Rome, 12 1 2007