Directory of Lost Causes

I Could Have Made the World Slightly More Beautiful

I could have made the world slightly more beautiful,
And it’s not as if I chose to do so little,
But here I am, hanging from a cliff
Feeling my fingers slip, bit by bit
Toward to the edge, losing my grip.

For many things now it’s too late.
I fret with regret.
For many things now it’s too late.
But I’m not dead yet.

I could have made the world slightly more beautiful.
Now that I realise, I feel myself grow dutiful,
But what can I do with both hands occupied
In trying to slow down my grim slide
Toward the rocks, toward the tide?

For many things now it’s too late.
I fret with regret.
For many things now it’s too late.
But I’m not dead yet.

I could have made the world slightly more beautiful.
I must admit, I chose to do very little.

I could have made the world ever-so-slightly less ugly.

It’s not too late.
It’s not too late.

The Job

At the age of thirty-seven,
Or forty-two,
You start to realise
There’s a job to do.

And you would not believe
The planning this job needs.
I’m reading up on economics,
Languages, philosophy.

I must go back into training.
I must exercise.
The job that must be done
Is always before my eyes.

With my foot upon the edge
Of the blade
Of the spade, I toil,
Sweat and turn the soil.

And you would not believe
The research this job needs.
I’m boning up on hydroponics,
Architecture, history.

And no one will explain to you
And you’ll receive no wage.
This job takes you outside the law.
But you must dig yourself a fitting grave.

I just keep on writing lyrics. Maybe one day you'll hear the songs, too.

It’s Never Going to Happen

Now that I’ve passed the halfway mark of life
I suppose you could say I see a pattern:

It’s become self-evident
That it’s never going to happen.
It’s never going to happen.

Once I had a dream; perhaps you had it, too.
And it seemed, there at the start, that it must come true.

But now I clearly see
That it’s never going to happen.
It’s never going to happen.

All that’s left to me as the seconds fall and fall
Is to wonder why anything exists at all.

Yet more lyrics. Sorry. Wrote these just now:

I Looked Back

Let’s never come to this place again, she said,
Keep walking, don’t look back.

But I looked back.
My heart became weaker,
My view became bleaker,
And I found myself alone on the track.

I remembered again and again what she said,
All too late, slowed my tread.

Life had passed on,
The sad hills behind me
Just there to remind me
The dream was empty for which I had longed.

Pete Black, formerly of Dorothy, and also formerly of The Dead Bell, of which I was also a member, has put some of my lyrics to music, at this link.

Here are the lyrics:

Snubbed Again

Am I not beautiful?
Am I not brilliant?
Are these limbs of mine not godly in wit?
And yet it seems the greater part
Of those who tread this Earth
Don’t get it.

Can you imagine?
I’ve been snubbed again,
Drubbed again,
Had my face rubbed in it again.
I thought I was addressing the Commonwealth,
But I was talking to myself, again.

There’s some discrepancy
Between the reality
And the self-image I thought self-evident.
It takes a special kind of poet
To know the world is blind
And show it.

Can you imagine?
I’ve been snubbed again,
Drubbed again,
Had my face rubbed in it again.
It’s worse when you’re snubbed by some hard-nosed girl you meet,
And gush upon in your initial greeting.

But at least I’m in good company.
At least I’m in good company.