Tags

Knock, knock.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Why? Do you care?
Knock knock.
Block the rock.
Rock the block.
Do you dare?

Do you dare to care?
Do care to dare to care?
Care you here?
Care you there?
Care you everywhere?
Or where?
Or anywhere?

Knock. Knock.
Too too many!
At my gate!
They’ll all rush in
Let them wait!
We can’t let others crash our cash.
We can’t let any crack or gash.

Knock, knock.
No-one’s home so go away.
Come again some other year.
Come to yet another gate.
Where you can wait.
You can wait
Another decade.
Perhaps our guilt will fade.
If we never have to see their face.
If we never have to grant them grace.

Anyway,
You’re not like us so go away.
Come again another day.
Another year.
Another tear.
Another decade.
Another time.
Become a whiter tone as well.
You don’t belong
You sing a different song.
You eat a different meal.
You cannot share our deal.

We fought long and hard to take
This land
From savages who had no gun.
So how could they be good?
For good God’s sake!
They made their things of wood!
Such a primitive band!
Who stood in the way of progress and steel!
Good God! They didn’t even have the wagon wheel!

Knock. Knock.
It is the sound
Sounding all around.
The sound of islanders whose
Islands are no more.
It is the sound of
It is the sound of
An echo
A reverberating shot

I think:
I’ve got mine
So, hell with thine.
The savages didn’t even fell each tree
To farm the land more easily.
Knock! Knock!
It’s louder now.
A pileated woodpecker
A tree wrecker.
A double decker
Bus and train and sandwich stack.
Busted brain plays whacky shack.
I need more gold.
I need less cold.
I will not fold
My life in half to share
I do not dare to care
For others
Born of other mothers
Dark of skin
Who undoubtedly sin.

KNOCK! KNOCK!
It is the sound
Of the ground
Of the Ice
Of the Sky.
So busy building scrapers
And tanks
So busy building
Tankers and tanks
So busy building
Machines that can kill
We destroyed all the krill
Filled our ground with plastic fill.
And therefore killed the seas.
We’re spreading disease.
And all our —

Hold on! Someone’s knocking at the door.
No-one important I should say.
They are dressed all in black.
Little more than a formless sack.

KNOCK! KNOCK!
They are knocking as we speak.
Guy looks like a freak
Holding … what the hell … a scythe?
Well
I always meant to tithe.
That was fast.

Pearly gates at last.
I’m knocking knocking at the door.
Knock. Knock.
Knocking at the door.
The days and nights
The darks and lights.
Extend into infinity.
No-one seems to hear my knock.
No-one seems to hear my call
Or see my bloodied hands.
Or care or know I’m here at all.
I can hear the music of celestial bands.
Distant, faint, behind the sheer and rocky wall.
But no-one seems to care at all.

Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.

Pingback: Who is Tending the Garden? | petersironwood
Pingback: Freedom Fries | petersironwood