The Rip Post                                                                                              


No More Sad Stories
With a bit of elucidation
I shall reveal to you
The pathway to salvation,
If I only had the time.
You went way to the left,
Youíve been on the roof
Too long, the parade
Has gone on, and even
Your friends have given
Up hope of your victory.

So now in the deepest dark
Comes the time to strike
Your brightest spark and
Bring light to this dreary land,
The task falls to you,
The means are at hand.

Revelations arise and
Are ready for the harvest
From the northern motherland,
Like grist for the mill
The call comes over
The far side of the hill
Like the last full moon
Your eyes will ever see.

With the proclamation
In hand, I bid you, kind sir,
To begin at once and do
Your best, stakes are high.

Cast away your nostalgia
For the canyons, flame
And mire. Take up the
Remnants and shards
That have withstood
the furnace kilnís fire
And escaped the pillage
Of the corporate vandals

Who need such sad stories
When the tide yet turns,
Morning and evening.
The natural order calls out,
Like the bird on the wing
Better this than most
Anything. Rhapsodic
Dawn hails us each day,
Would we but listen.

So stifle the noise that
Is the news and the
celebrity scandals.
Aspire to climb down
From your aloof retreat
There are dreams
Yet to be won.
---Jack Oakes -- 8/12/07
 

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