You and me against the world
From the harbour hill to where the crescent curls,
the black water swell, the turning of the world.
Strung lights and drunken sounds
glimmer at the edges of your town.
We were hiding for so long
with everyone else all trying to hold on
but that time has gone now -
it’s you and me against the…
(It’s a) bleak light to figure in,
our hands thrown up against the wind
like mottled masts and lightning bolts,
we’ll call up storms to take us far from home.
We’ve been running for so long
from jaded hearts and broken love
all waiting for the ground to open up,
well it’s you and me against the…
They’re down on us again, trying to keep us apart
but we’ll refuse to give in for this is it;
something we can win - this time.
And they’re frozen in this light while they’re marking time
for their fears shape them all until they’re rooted to the ground.
We’ve been trying for so long
just to be ourselves, to be left alone,
well if everyone is getting slow
then it’s you and me against the world.
The lockkeeper’s cottage
This pulse that made you fight upstream
sends the eels to mass and the salmon leap.
And on this rock you set your home,
the light that leaks from pitch and stone.
The floods that came took cattle and earth,
a broken wake where the currents turn.
And you saw the town when the river froze,
the swans at war and the foreign boats.
The water pools and your shadow grows long
to the tall tales your brothers spun.
In the house, lost, where the light grows dim,
I leave you now as your journey begins.
Borne along by an autumn moon,
he’s bearing north, heading for the mouth.
The river birds and the falling leaves
open their wings and our heaven’s won.
His arms cut through a darkened Bann,
in his pale clothes, ghosting along.
He took his silences from there
and his hands hold the river back.
I smelt blood and I heard the drumming rise.
My quarter, coiled up and baying.
The crackling of wildfires, the breathing figures into life.
Now we have enemies amongst us.
Through it all I gave my hand
and through it all these days will end.
The battles for your heart carry on,
I draw the light and hush the sounds.
You’ll never need to know.
Old songs and folk tales dying,
I lift my hands and fake a mirror for your flames.
We set out on christened ships, bowing to the shores,
fathoms of lost souls below us,
but I cup this fleet and blow its sails to the end
and this world comes apart in my hands.
Macosquin, Coleraine
You take that turning.
You’ve got to wake for the Lord in the morning,
with the shadow of the church spire falling
on the shoulders and heels of the fearing.
The wind banks low,
draws a furrow through the fields by the wish stone
and while the constellations pin us down,
one death makes all the dogs howl.
And they say they know you,
that they grew with you,
but you don’t know them at all.
This wreath of brambles
banked by catechisms and kerbstones,
we’ve got herons stalking the burns
but the devil’s cast out of our homes.
I carve my name,
my name singing of new lands and shelter,
my name set upon for colour,
my name dreamt by others.
And they say they know you,
that they grew with you,
but you don’t know them at all.
White clouds rolling, black earth open.
You’ve got to wait for the call.
Clocks and clones
Close your eyes, we’ll sound the way
through old souls all rapt in wonder
for the arc of them, a stitch of vein,
reflecting on each other.
Communicating down the line
with hints and curves appearing
on measured ground and plotted stars,
they’re spilling out.
The city choirs will sing ‘til dawn,
their songs like cables wailing.
A twitch and jump, a rush of blood,
all resonating outwards.
I dream of clocks, I dream of clones
sounding out together,
the click of hearts and the hours lost
as I breathe on.
Radios with callers breaking through
for I don’t know how long now.
This babbling, this slip of tongues
all fused into one.
This is the sound of dislocating,
this is the sound of distance overtaking
and all my words and thoughts are failing
above the sound of something being swamped.
These are the sounds my heart was cupped to catch before I sleep.
These are the sounds that muscle in around you while you speak.
Nearly got it made
You say there’s no sign of change
but I keep my eyes on the way out.
These side roads just get me rattled;
blocking the hope I’ve got to hold.
We’ve nearly got it made.
Everything’s so close.
It’s so hard to keep on trying
and it’s too much to keep to myself.
I can’t seem to think without you.
I just want to be there when you know.
There’s no point in trying to fool you.
I trip up when I am with you.
I just gotta wait to see what comes.
We’ve nearly got it made.
Don’t give up. Wait for me.
Strays
The cold came without warning,
the pale light that fell,
the winds that rose and carried hail
and journeyed south.
They came when their poor coats failed them
and the ground grew hard and held,
it made us draw into ourselves and close the doors.
At a change of wind,
the turn of season
all my strays blew in as I lay breathing.
While the world spun,
my house was shaken
and the darkness gave, my troubles faded.
My company in shadow,
the scutter and flap,
the tiny hearts that pitter pat,
and chatter through the night.
But soon the day will come
and you’ll leave my hands to fly,
your scattered flocks and broken homes
tumble in the storms.
At a change of wind,
the turn of season
all my strays blew in as I lay breathing.
While the world spun,
my house was shaken
and the darkness gave, my troubles faded.
Dressed for rain
Little girl, it’s time to go,
they’re waiting for you now,
down by the boat to take you to the north,
tie up your hair,
colour your nails,
And take his name,
you light a fire to warm the house again,
draw village wives and churchmen to your gate,
your accent standing you apart.
On the hour,
dressed for rain,
she comes down from the house
to feathers and broken blades
and on, to the centre of her world
where all the birds wheel around her
for all time.
The years pass,
your children have gone, you’re rooted to the land,
you tie up your hair, got winter in your hands,
you’re breaking bread to call them out.
And on the hour,
dressed for rain,
the light retreating to the house,
the figures that wander there are waiting
to open up their arms,
all her family around her
for all time.
How long have you waited?
You’ve been carrying that word for days,
weighing it up,
drawing breath,
finding faults in lines,
in the space that’s left,
you mouth the sound until it makes no sense.
How long have you waited for someone to find you here?
You wear your fictions out to the end
from false starts to cold trails
and leave your letters to speak of you now
through characters,
through hooks and tails.
How long have you waited for a love to track you down?
How long have you waited?
For someone to find you here?
How long have you been this way,
waiting for someone to work you out?
Kerscaven
Every breath he took stirred wings and motes to life,
called the cornfields to hush, the blades to channel into the sky,
and all the seeds blew up and spun like prayers through the night.
Nesting by arcing suns and broken stones,
he’ll shape a home for you
far from the maps and trails
where you fought tooth and nail to get to know
that you would settle here
and that your traveller’s heart would echo low.
Bound to the world.
Bound to the world.
Through all the hints and spurs,
the finishing of words,
your language forged through time
and through all you’ve learnt;
the balancing, the love to make a life
from a meeting of roads to your vows in white gold.
Bound to the world.
Bound to the world.
The sleeping years
I slept for several years,
far from the one that you remember.
Blind in my house of leaves,
sunlight and broken fields tailed and trembled.
All the words that form in me,
oh lord now I can breathe, tumble…
and I swear I’ll never leave…
for this is my home…
Streamlined
No time for consequence to get in my way,
you’ll find me godless and dreaming
of imperfections left by my heels.
I shape myself for the love of it all
and my language gets broken,
accelerating, perfecting my walk,
I got no ties to hold, my position is all.
You build a star for yourself
while you’re breaking up from all sides.
See your beautiful sons
streamlined and speeding.
I let nothing and nobody get close
for while your lovers surround you
I watch you falter, I watch you get slow.
I have no love to show, my position is all.
You keep on holding out for love
when everyone just kills you.
All your words just leave me cold,
I’m done with that,
I’m safe and sound.
You build a star for yourself
while you’re breaking up from all sides.
See your beautiful sons
streamlined and speeding.
Untroubled
Pale illuminations powering up,
moonlight losing out to rays.
The slow adjustments stepping through the house
come to rest when I wake.
All the words that still hang between these walls;
the illusions, the sighing, the tears,
and the making up and the words we forgot
echo untroubled when I am far from here.
The sound of my heart’s booming through the room.
All the life we lent to this space –
the slump of bed, the scoring on the floor,
the bolts and shutters now in place.
I write to you now so you’ll know my fate,
We’ve had no news for seven days.
These disappearances we made
Take hold.
Our photographs begin to cloud,
The colour running from my mouth,
The light I reflect filters through
And burns out.
My breath frosting in the cold,
The radios all turned to snow
And my words thicken in my throat
And hang mute.
All the lights trip out, all the echoes slow,
I hold my breath, I turn to stone,
To stay invisible for long
Takes thought.
It’s a sleight of hand, it’s a trick of light
To fool yourself, to close your eyes
To all the drifting for tonight
You’ll be gone.
We’re becoming islands one by one, we’ve got distances to cross.
We’ve been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word.
We’re becoming islands one by one, we’ve got oceans now between us.
We’ve been losing ground for all this time and we never said a word.
The Shape of Things to Come
There’s no falling back,
It’s a precision drive for common goals and hollow drones
With the sound of motion in our skulls.
I try to stop. I try to stop,
Try to find myself in something
But it just flickers out. I remember shapes, I remember…
We compass like old hands,
Our communication sounds through knocks and needling,
This jostling for ground,
But movement must be kept for as long as we are charged
We’ll never fear the shape of things to come.
I am built to cope;
Everything that I am has been honed,
And I never dream,
I just close my eyes and static comes.
Broken homes
Leaving my home shores and north winds,
Brittle maps of my ribs bowing.
They carried blood down to my hand
Where they struck you dumb, made you a believer.
No matter how hard you try – they fail to listen to you –
Though they swear you’re free to rise – but they’ve placed their hands upon you –
And time and time again – they’re grouping to welcome you –
But you’re alone with everyone.
This reach of crooked lines and hollows,
The ground falling under my fingertips.
I draw napes and brows and scars, I walk on water.
And all the rivers sing: ‘all I am is of here’.
If you feel you’re on your own
Your world’s in rhymes that you can’t understand at al
And you’re left to broken homes
Holding out for one more chance to come along.
And the songs that filled the house – were lifted to the rooftops.
Of the glory in their hearts – and the gathering of the crowd.
The water washed my mouth – and the language that I spoke –
Was snaked in riddles, roped in code.
Human Blues
So poor moon,
With a cursed hand I rent my days,
Lost in the woods,
The curls and throats I never made.
Blackened boughs and starlight shivering,
Cobalt blues to crown my little home.
Head for shore,
Got whins to raze, got clouds to spoil.
For crow-miles I roll.
You stopped staring skywards years ago.
I stank of madness in your cities,
Sleeping foes and towers in my way.
The clamber starts –
The push and pull, the marking out with hearts in mouths,
Those precious traits you’re holding fast,
You keep on holding fast.
(All songs by Dale Grundle ©2007)