Tag Archives: utopianism

I Prefer Sitting In An Old, Comfortable Armchair

I prefer
Sitting in an old, comfortable armchair,
Reading traditional rhyme
As my clock’s regular chime
Speaks of a more ordered time,
To the idea that we must
Forever thrust
Towards some utopian goal
Where my soul
Is nothing when
Compared to the common good
Of collective men.
I would
Rather sit in my armchair
Or, out of my window stare
not at some abstract “common good”
But at a fine old tree
That will outlast me
Unless some vandal destroy that tree
In the name of a better society,
That will never be.

When The Squire, Sitting By His Fire

When the squire
Sitting by his fire,
Rang the bell,
Who can tell
Whether the servant, summoned by his call
Had any desire
For the great hall to fall.

How easy ’tis to condemn
Past men.
But tell me
would you reject
The established imperfect
For a future that can never be?

Ivory Tower

The poet in his ivory tower
Has not the power
To change
This deranged
Place
Where the lunatic’s face
Flushed with belief
Brings the world to grief.

Those who think themselves sane
Cudgel their brain
And impose dreams
(which they call schemes)
For the improvement of man.

When dreams fail
The believers wail
“We will get it right next time”.
Or, for shame
They blame
The poor
Gardener who asks nothing more
Than to be left alone to cultivate his garden.

The poet begs pardon
To be excused,
With an amused smile,
For there can be no denial
That time spent in rhyme
Keeps him safe from humanity’s grime.

Twenty-Seventeen

The weather is drear
And none save my dog is near.
The new year
Beccons
As seconds
Are here then gone.
The clock’s hands move on
Towards twenty-seventeen.
I have no magic screen
To gaze into the future, but stupidity
And that age-old vice cupidity
Will, I venture to maintain
Continue to reign.

The human race
Has a face
Half devil and part divine.
There is a fine
Line
Between the two.
Looking through
History one finds dreams of utopia turning to hell,
Yet one can not tell
The idealist that he is wrong,
For he will answer you with the same old song,
“If everyone did such and such then all would be well”!
But we are saints with feet of clay
And the utopian’s way
Leads many to stray
Down the path to the ever lasting bonfire
Where the desire
To do good ends in the Gulag and the stamp
Of the fanatic’s boot in the concentration camp.

Small acts of kindness matter
And oft times achieve more than the chatter
Of those
Who would dragoon
Humanity into neat little rows.
And believe there is a man in the moon.

Utopia

I saw Utopia like some bright star.
It burned far
Away and the nearer
I drew the clearer
It shonne on bones white
That glistened in it’s baileful light.

I saw man, his head in a book,
He dained not to look
At the earth but dwelt
In a world of ideas and felt
That if only man would conform to his abstract theory
This planet dreary
Would become a paradise, where man would reach for the sky.

As time passed he wondered why
The star
Was just as far
Away
As the day
On which he first read Marx or some other sage.
The theorists’s rage
He did mark
With tombstones stark
Which the idealist built
Employing the spilt
Tears of men
Who when
He spoke of Utopia shook their heads
With dread.

One Utopia has fled
Yet the blood that bled
Will blead
Again
If terror’s reign
Remains unconstrained
By the knowledge of past pain.

To A disillusioned Idealist

What is this youth?
This search for truth?
What is this heart
You have not the art
To conceal
But must reveal
Your ideals?
What is this age
This rage
That the world does not conform
To some abstract plan
of man?
History does warn.
Why then so forlorn?

The Potentate

Lucifir came for a potentate bold.

He said “you have had power and wealth untold,

Now you must render me your immortal soul”.

The potentate sighed,

And made reply,

“My soul it died,

you will find nothing inside.

It perished long ago,

And vanished like the summer snow.

Once I had ideals,

and yearned to build utopia in green fields.

I have waded in much blood,

And sacrificed the weak for the common good.

My soul you had long ago.

I take your hand,

Now let us go”.