Understand the Sad
Denying the truth.
In love with a fantasy,
Unburdened by proof.
Longings too amorous.
Confused by the mystery.
In fear of the glamorous.
Was she a witch?
Was she a fairy child?
Was she deceptive?
Was she quite wild?
Was she even real?
Could she even feel?
What did she want?
His discipline failed him.
Sensations unexpected.
Enchanted by sin.
Unworthy of status.
His ego too bruised.
Why did she sing?
Fragment of the wonderful.
Image of the beautiful.
Fleeting and defeating.
Unattainable. Leaving
Mind and body grieving.
Paradise lost.
What is the ongoing cost?
Or a ballet through time.
It is part of a grimoire,
For your mind to refine
Through a glimmer of
Literary alchemy.
Understand the sad.
Life and love become prosaicWith routines of duty.
Order and disorder are
Both devoid of beauty.
Both are tragic.
News is not poetic.
Sleep provides certainty.
Patterned words,
A dying Keats,
The mind of youth,
Fate defeats.
Mortal males
Long for muses,
But who chooses?
Trapped in art,
Record the minds
Of long dead men.
All are history.
Inanimate products of culture
Have no feelings.
In the name of glory.
Refugees seek hope
In a medieval story.
Sad songs bring comfort.
History repeats again,
Like a chorus.
Disappointments and lost hopes
Are suppressed through
Action and distraction
But never disappear.
Fairies dance on dreams.
Witches enchant moonbeams.
Is cocooned in his metal castle.
His tamed horse is his slave.
The fairy girl is free.
She sings of misguided duty
And laughs at military folly
To protect her virginity.
Nature is harshness.
Re-purpose the verses.
Undo the curses
With science.
The fairy hums.
Her wings are
In your mind.
Listen as they
Beat your heart.
Sadness disappears with
Well-informed kindness.
Hopes transform and
Societies reform if you
Love the world
The fairy loves.
Dreams of her beating wings
Will give your life real meaning.
Dedicate yourself to
Well-informed kindness,
The true nobility.
Defeat the real enemy,
The arrogance of violence.
Reshaping minds along the way.
Emboldened by fossil fuels,
Drunken climates jostle crowds.
Herbicides killed the meadow.
Coal-fired economies grow
But at what cost?
Since the 1950s,
The fairy girl of 1900
Has been an angry siren.
Drunken climates
Make her afraid.
No knight protects her.
Her voice is hoarse.
For firewood.
Meadows long gone
For livestock.
Villages long gone
For migration.
Mines long gone
For inherited wealth.
Factories long gone
For fashion and pollution.
Distress and confusion were
Mainly to blame for her
Passion for Hamlet and flowers.
His illness was cruel to her.
His madness was her burden.
She was offered only platitudes.
The cruel lady perceived
By the unwell Keats was
Only a girl of eighteen.
A neighbour, barely known,
The muse he needed,
While he grieved for
His dead, young brother.
It clings to old lyrics.
It wanders in imagined forests,
Attempting to escape the sad.
It pauses by dark waters,
Wondering whether to
Take the plunge.
Grasp this grimoire.
Cling to life.
Understand the sad.
Focus on the wonderful.
Keep breathing.
The wight is a ghost,
Like the White Lady.
Or the superstitions of sailors
Or coal-fueled, drunken climates?
Are you too sad to answer
Important questions?
Do you ever sing sad songs?
Are you seeking happiness?
Papyrus is an African sedge,
Growing on the Nile's edge
And trapping histories
In museum and libraries,
With ancient herbal knowledge.
Time is a college
Of ethereal friends.
The mammals have hibernated.
Face fate. Face facts.
Go virtually to Glasgow.
Oil is killing California
Coal is killing China.
Gas is killing Europe.
The world is being killed by greed.
Sadness is therefore generous.
The rich and powerful have a need
To hide behind the glamorous.
Accountants shape economies
With monetary madness
Ruining lives, with no apologies.
Yet Hesiod opened the gate
With imaginings of Pandora.
Who deserves the blame
For triumphing over Death
With Fame, by opening
The greed game?
Increasing wealth, deceased estates
And saddened chasms in societies,
Are shaped by the uncaring Fates.
The love of money causes death to all.
"Take pity on the rich", says the wise witch,
"Reuse the pithos as a coffin for greed.
Let hopeful expectation be freed."
The pretty changeling,
With eyes so wild?
Beware when she sings.
Her sadness is seductive.
Remember her beating wings.When a ballad is sad,
Do you have a catharsis
Or merely a curious feeling?
Do you unlock the truth
Or a box full of dangers,
Or a book of ancient
Mythologies?
From a grimoire to a grotto?
Do you have the necessary knowledge,
The secret words and special motto?
Are you familiar with poetic language?
Will you be virtually in Glasgow
To dance and sing on the world stage?
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