{"id":703,"date":"2013-04-12T15:46:09","date_gmt":"2013-04-12T13:46:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=703"},"modified":"2013-05-03T01:37:16","modified_gmt":"2013-05-02T23:37:16","slug":"4-pawn-hearts","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/4-pawn-hearts\/","title":{"rendered":"4. Pawn Hearts"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nLemmings (including Cog)<\/strong><\/p>\n

I stood alone upon the highest cliff-top,
\nlooked down, around, and all that I could see
\nwere those that I would dearly love to share with
\ncrashing on quite blindly to the sea…
\nI tried to ask what game this was,
\nbut knew I might not play it:
\nthe voice, as one, as no-one, came to me…<\/p>\n

'We have looked upon the heroes
\nand they are found wanting;
\nwe have looked hard across the land,
\nbut we can see no dawn;
\nwe have now dared to sear the sky,
\nbut we are still bleeding;
\nwe are drawing near to the cliffs,
\nnow we can hear the call.<\/p>\n

The clouds are piled in mountain-shapes,
\nthere is no escape except to go forward.
\nDon’t ask us for an answer now,
\nit’s far too late to bow to that convention.
\nWhat course is there left but to die?<\/p>\n

We have looked upon the High Kings,
\nfound them less than mortals:
\ntheir names are dust before the just
\nmarch of our young, new law.
\nMinds stumbling strong, we hurtle on
\ninto the dark portal;
\nNo-one can halt our final vault
\ninto the unknown maw.<\/p>\n

And as the Elders beat their brows
\nthey know that it’s really far
\ntoo late now to stop us.
\nFor if the sky is seeded death
\nwhat is the point in catching breath? – Expel it.
\nWhat cause is there left but to die
\nin searching of something we’re not quite sure of?<\/p>\n

What cause is there left but to die?
\n… I really don’t know why …<\/p>\n

I know our ends may be soon
\nbut why do you make them sooner?
\nTime may finally prove
\nonly the living move her and
\nno life lies in the quicksand.<\/p>\n

Yes, I know it’s
\nOut of control, out of control:
\nGreasy machinery slides on the rails,
\nYoung minds and bodies on steel spokes impaled…
\nCogs tearing bones, cogs tearing bones;
\nIron-throated monsters are forcing the screams,
\nMind and machinery box-press the dreams…<\/p>\n

… but there still is time …<\/p>\n

Cowards are they who run today,
\nthe fight is beginning…
\nno war with knives, fight with our lives,
\nlemmings can teach nothing;
\ndeath offers no hope, we must grope
\nfor the unknown answer:
\nunite our blood, abate the flood,
\navert the disaster…<\/p>\n

There’s other ways than screaming in the mob:
\nthat makes us merely cogs of hatred.
\nLook to the why and where we are,
\nlook to yourselves and the stars and in the end
\nWhat choice is there left but to live
\nin the hope of saving
\nour children’s children’s little ones?<\/p>\n

What choice is there left but to live?
\nto save the little ones?<\/p>\n

What choice is there left but to try?<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

Man-Erg<\/strong><\/p>\n

The killer lives inside me: yes, I can feel him move.
\nSometimes he’s lightly sleeping
\nin the quiet of his room,
\nbut then his eyes will rise and stare through mine;
\nhe’ll speak my words and slice my mind inside.
\nYes the killer lives.<\/p>\n

Angels live inside me: I can feel them smile…
\nTheir presence strokes
\nand soothes the tempest in my mind
\nand their love can heal the wounds
\nthat I have wrought.
\nThey watch me as I go to fall
\n– well, I know I shall be caught,
\nwhile the angels live.<\/p>\n

How can I be free?
\nHow can I get help?
\nAm I really me?
\nAm I someone else?<\/p>\n

But stalking in my cloisters hang the acolytes
\nof gloom
\nand Death’s Head throws his cloak into
\nthe corner of my room
\nand I am doomed…
\nBut laughing in my courtyard play the pranksters
\nof my youth
\nand solemn, waiting Old Man
\nin the gables of the roof:
\nhe tells me truth…<\/p>\n

And I too, live inside me and very often
\ndon’t know who I am:
\nI know I’m not a hero, well,
\nI hope that I’m not damned.
\nI’m just a man, and killers, angels,
\nall are these:
\nDictators, saviours, refugees in war and peace
\nas long as Man lives…<\/p>\n

I’m just a man, and killers, angels,
\nall are these:
\nDictators, saviours, refugees…<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers<\/strong><\/p>\n

Eyewitness<\/i><\/p>\n

Still waiting for my saviour,
\nstorms tear me limb from limb;
\nmy fingers feel like seaweed…
\nI’m so far out I’m too far in.
\nI am a lonely man, my solitude is true
\nmy eyes have borne stark witness
\nand now my nights are numbered, too.<\/p>\n

I’ve seen the smiles on dead hands,
\nthe stars shine, but they’re not for me.<\/p>\n

I prophesy disaster and then I count the cost…
\nI shine but, shining, dying,
\nI know that I am almost lost.
\nOn the table lies blank paper
\nand my tower is built on stone
\nI only have blunt scissors,
\nI only have the bluntest home…
\nI’ve been the witness, and the seal of death
\nlingers in the molten wax that is my head.<\/p>\n

When you see the skeletons
\nof sailing-ship spars sinking low
\nYou’ll begin to wonder if the points
\nof all the ancients myths
\nare solemnly directed straight at you…<\/p>\n

Pictures\/Lighthouse<\/i><\/p>\n

(Eddies, rocks, ships, collision, remorse)<\/p>\n

Eyewitness<\/i><\/p>\n

No time now for contrition:
\nthe time for that’s long past.
\nThe walls are thin as tissue and
\nif I talk I’ll crack the glass.
\nSo I only think on how it might have been,
\nlocked in silent monologue, in silent scream.<\/p>\n

I’m much too tired to speak
\nand, as the waves crash on the bleak
\nstones of the tower, I start to freak
\nand find that I am overcome…<\/p>\n

S.H.M.<\/i><\/p>\n

'Unreal, unreal’ ghost helmsmen scream
\nand fall in through the sky,
\nnot breaking through my seagull shrieks…
\nno breaks until I die:
\nthe spectres scratch on window-slits –
\nhollowed faces and mindless grins
\nonly intent on destroying what they’ve lost.<\/p>\n

I crawl the wall till steepness ends
\nin the vertical fall;
\nmy pain has sailed into the sea:
\nno joking hopes at dawn.
\nWhite bone shine in the iron-jaw mask
\nlost mastheads pierce the freezing dark
\nand parallel my isolated tower…
\nno paraffin for the flame
\nno harbour left to gain.<\/p>\n

Presence of the Night \/ Kosmos Tours<\/i><\/p>\n

'Alone, alone’ the ghosts all call,
\npinpoint me in the light.
\nThe only life I feel at all
\nis the presence of the night.<\/p>\n

Would you cry if I died?
\nWould you catch the final words of mine?
\nWould you catch my words?
\nI know that there’s no time
\nI know that there’s no rhyme…
\nfalse signs find me
\nI don’t want to hate,
\nI just want to grow;
\nwhy can’t I let me
\nlive and be free?
\nbut I die very slowly alone.
\nI know more ways,
\nI am so afraid,
\nmyself won’t let me
\njust be myself
\nand so I am completely alone…<\/p>\n

The maelstrom of my memory
\nis a vampire and it feeds on me
\nnow, staggering madly, over the brink I fall.<\/p>\n

(Custard’s) Last Stand<\/i><\/p>\n

Lighthouses might house the key
\nbut can I reach the door?<\/p>\n

I want to walk on the sea
\nso that I may better find a shore…
\nbut how can I ever keep my feet dry?
\nI scan the horizon
\nI must keep my eyes on all parts of me.<\/p>\n

Looking back on the years
\nit seems that I have lost my way:
\nLike a dog in the night, I have run to a manger
\nnow I am the stranger I stay in.
\nAll of the grief I have seen
\nleaves me chasing solitary peace;
\nBut I hold experience in my head…
\nI’m too close to the light
\nI don’t think I see right, for I blind me…<\/p>\n

The Clot Thickens<\/i><\/p>\n

Where is the God that guides my hand?
\nHow can the hands of others reach me?
\nWhen will I find what I grope for?
\nWho is going to teach me?
\nI am me \/ me are we \/ we can’t see
\nany way out of here.
\nCrashing sea – a trophied history:
\nChance has lost my Guinevere…<\/p>\n

I don’t want to be one wave in the water
\nBut sea will drag me deep
\nOne more haggard drowned man…<\/p>\n

I can see the lemmings coming,
\nbut I know I’m just a man;
\nDo I join or do I founder?
\nWhich can is the best I may?<\/p>\n

Land’s End (Sineline) \/ We Go Now<\/i><\/p>\n

Oceans drifting sideways,
\nI am pulled into the spell;
\nI feel you around me… I know you well.
\nStars slice horizons where the lines stand
\nmuch too stark;
\nI feel I am drowning… hands stretch in the dark.<\/p>\n

Camps of panoply and majesty,
\nwhat is Freedom of Choice?
\nWhere do I stand in the pageantry…
\nwhose is my voice?
\nIt doesn’t feel so very bad now:
\nI think the end is the start.
\nBegin to feel very glad now:
\nAll things are a part
\nAll things are apart
\nAll things are a part.<\/p>\n

All lyrics by Peter Hammill<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lemmings (including Cog) I stood alone upon the highest cliff-top, looked down, around, and all that I could see were those that I would dearly love to share with crashing on quite blindly to the sea… I tried to ask … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":4,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-703","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/703","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=703"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/703\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1376,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/703\/revisions\/1376"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=703"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}