Mosi-oa-tunya

the smoke that thunders

is all that stands between.

I see you son of seer

who hunts ever gold

 

I fear not any collars

of which you once spoke

unto me

so very, resentfully

 

leave trace in my den

and Seitch Jacurutu

will hear matters

of the desert

 

in my Honour as fremen

will I give freely

unto you,

both chapter and verse

 

no need of artifice

when simplicity might

yet work

its easy magic

 

may Shai-Halud

cleanse the paths.

It falls on me to give,

oh, most cautious one

 

you must provide

secure means

and then the Mentat downloads

Insh’ Allah

 

ever the shadows

is instinct of old

ever the light

I am much more, bold

 

the morning star

and the setting sun

must soon

full circle come

 

foe am I not

ne’er have I been

fate has its quirks

sure, as can be seen

 

the smoke that thunders

is all that stands between.

I see you son of seer

who hunts ever gold

Ode to a Forgotten Rose

In the bracken of a thousand Souls,

Dew drop daisies

Cry lonesome

Into the night

 

Comforted and cosy

Warm and snug

Fussed and cosseted,

Crinolined and tight

 

Bubble wrapped

And bandaged

Pressed and petalled

With wings

 … … … No flight

 

Close the curtains,

Pull the blinds

Hush don’t worry

Everything’s alright

 

In the crevasse

Where honour

Used to live

 

The ferns count

Their fronds

And fingers

 

Curlew curled

And beaky nosed

 

Remember always

That door has closed

 

Pitch now

Dark as coal and

Black of heart

 

The sorcerer

Plays viola

And his heinous  part

 

The sword on a hot tin roof

Catches spiders

To pass the time

 

The tears of glory rust the blade

Dulls the edges

And quicks the lime

 

Keep it secret

What we do

 

Else they’ll tumble

To what is true

 

Collusion is the strongest hand

Full house or a royal flush?

 

Forgotten ways might yet make

Those cheeks, turn a pinkish blush

 

Once there shone a flame

Of iridescent blue

Which called to hearts

Both bold and true

 

An ancient general

Calls in the night

“Strength and Honour”

Our birthright

 

In the bracken of a thousand Souls,

Dew drop daisies

Cry lonesome

Into the night

 

So stand alone

The general does

He dreams of roses

And not of doves

 

 He tends them well

Both day and night

For the dream has

Never, left his sight

 

“Strength and Honour”

Our birthright.