BEST SONG EVER

Oh to write the greatest song ever
A song to make you laugh and make you cry
A song that could charm the birds off the trees
A song with its own philosophy
A song full of mystery, magic and enchantment
A song that leaves you wanting more
A song that would unite generations
And make parents and teenagers part company
A song that even small children would get
A catchy song
An earworm
A real grower
A song that sets your foot tapping
A song that hits you right in the guts
A song with an unexpected melody
A song with a sinuous counterpoint
A song with a gorgeous harmony
A song with a secret chord
A song with a sinuous bass line
A song with a funky rhythm
A song with ingenious rhyming couplets
A song with memorable lyrics
A song that can be interpreted in a hundred different ways
A song to be analysed by PhD students and music professors
A song that everyone wants as a desert island disc
An ancient song
A futuristic song
A song that you feel you've known all your life
A song that you can't believe didn't always exist
A song they'll still be singing in a hundred years time
A song you wish you'd written yourself
A song both reassuringly familiar and exhilaratingly strange
A song that you can strum on a guitar
A song that you can bang out on the piano
A song for a garage band
A song for a string quartet
A song for full orchestra
A song that can be sung acapella
A song for friends
A song for lovers
A song for seekers
A song for travellers
A song for worshippers
A song for the bereaved
A song for only the lonely
A song for refugees
A song for those far from home
A song for late-night drunken revellers
A song for Sinatra
A song for Arethra
A song for Pavarotti
A song for Callas
A song for a diva
A song for a troubador
A song with no regrets
A song to hum in the shower
A song to whistle while you work
A song to belt out in karaoke
A song for a party
A song for a festival
A song to soothe
A song to dance to in the rain
A song for a Saturday night and a Sunday morning
A song to conceive to
A song to inspire a revolution
A song you want played at your wedding
A song to bid you farewell at your funeral
A cathartic song
A spiritual song
An energising song
A ubiquitous song
A universal song
A song to live by
A song to drink in
And a song to go

INTERLOPER

My files are corrupted
My systems are kaput
My session's interrupted
Strange business is afoot

There's an interloper somewhere here
There's an interloper somewhere near

My data was encrypted
But the spooks have cracked the code
My folders have been sifted
My secrets have been sold

There's an interloper somewhere here
There's an interloper somewhere near

SEAHORSE

I've been treading water
For far too long
My desperate inertia
Was way too strong

Now momentum's building like a boulder
Down the slope I watch it rolling
Since you floated gently over

I heard your silent whisper
I heard your wordless call
I saw the empty fixture
Upon the garden wall

I nailed your colours to my mast
I left you stranded and downcast
In all the confusion
As the thunder crashed

And as the waves come rolling in
As the surf it pounds my skin
You stay as constant as the Pole Star

You float there motionless
Your style is effortless
Your patience is limitless
Your compassion is bottomless

MAIN SPOT

ATM

These beautiful pictures glued to the wood
The root of all evil has come to no good
It's like a religion, we surrender ourselves
And bow down to worship at the altar of wealth

But they hide behind pay walls and the odds are all rigged
The anonymous donors, the secretive bids

In God we trust

Life on a promise makes slaves of us all
A convenient marriage, a painful divorce

The trees are all burning but we can't see the wood
The smoke and the mirrors have fooled us real good

In God we trust

You can spend it like water never quenching your thirst
You can hoard it like treasure but you will always be cursed

My interest is waning, my fortunes have slumped
My schemes are all failing, my investors have jumped

I'm going to set up my easel, I'm going to carve out a niche
I'm going to paint a blank canvas with my own masterpiece

In Art I trust

KENNING

Shape-shifter
Metamorphoser
Posture imposter
Yoga poser
Arch deceiver
Inbetweener
Cat's back
Swan song
Wolf pack
Cobra sprung
Shed my skin
Skin my fur
On a wing
On a prayer

MANUSCRIPT III

Imaginings of the past

We had been walking for seven sunrises when the walled city at last came into view, stretched out expansively below us on the edge of the dusty plain. It was an impressive sight, the setting sun casting long shadows in the sand. We laid down our burdens, tethered our beasts, and set up camp for the night. Lembo and I took some gourds down to the waterfall to collect fresh water. We knelt beside the stream and splashed our faces with the cool water. We took off our threadbare leather sandals and sat for a while in the gathering twilight, bathing our feet in the shallows and soaking the dirt out of our cracked blistered skin. Our shoulders ached from the heavy load we had carried many a league from the wintering grounds. It had been a long, exhausting, dangerous journey, and its end had come none too soon.

Back at the camp, meat was already roasting on a spit and the group’s spirits were higher than they had been for some time. Hannibal sat alone by the hearth, apart from the other travellers, his tanned serious face illuminated by the firelight. He stroked his beard, seemingly lost in thought, as he stared into the flames. ‘There’ll be rich pickings tomorrow,’ he murmured quietly.

A cry went up from the look-out behind us. Lembo and I and some of the women rushed to the top of the slight rise just in time to see a sea of tiny lights sailing silently into the sky above the walled city like a swarm of fireflies. It was a breathtaking sight. ‘Paper lanterns,’ cried Uma, ‘the Moon Festival has begun!’

We rose at dawn, packed up the camp and headed for the walled city. As we approached the huge east gate, flanked on either side by tall turrets manned by archers, every one of us was fearful, terrified of being apprehended by the guards. All except for Hannibal, who appeared as cool and immovable as stone. In our scruffy robes, dirty and frayed from the journey, we looked more like mendicants than merchants. But at the gate Hannibal pressed something into the hand of one of the guards and we were waved through into the jostling crowds of the city.

MANUSCRIPT II

Memories of the future

Centaur tapped lazily at a small white icon on the screen of the Cloud, lay back on his pillows and waited for the pharmaceuticals to take effect. He didn’t have to wait very long. Almost instantly, a rush of pure pleasure coursed powerfully through his blood stream and into his brain, a flood of ones and zeroes digitally simulating the effects of pure heroin. After the initial rush had abated, Centaur lay there in a dreamy daze, musing absent-mindedly on the safely mediated wonders of the Cloud. In the bad old days, he had heard it said, people used to spend large sums of cash on such pleasures, risking the perils of a contaminated needle, a criminal record and the untold horrors of addiction. But the Cloud rendered all of these inconveniences quaint relics of the past. Centaur drifted off into a relaxing haze.

When he woke several orbs later, he was feeling pleasantly aroused. He reached out for the Cloud on the bedside table and tapped again at the screen. Toggling idly through a series of avatars, he found the one he was looking for. Tonight he would summon Elektra. He had missed Elektra’s charms lately. Centaur dropped the Cloud on the bed, closed his eyes to the brightness of the room and found himself sitting in the garden of a Greek taverna. It was a sultry Mediterranean evening. Cicadas buzzed among the trees. Birds issued fluty calls. The air was heavy with the perfume of exotic flowers. The table was lit by a solitary lantern. Elektra was seated opposite him, wearing a long flowing dress of purple silk. Her honey-brown hair was tied up in a bunch above her head, emphasising her long, brown slender neck. Spiral-shaped earrings dangled from her lobes. Her almond eyes smiled sadly at him as her lips began to move. ‘How could you neglect me for so long, Centaur?’ She wore a fragrant scent, which teased his nostrils. The overall effect was so intoxicating he couldn’t take his eyes off her. At that moment waiters dressed as satyrs appeared from the darkness armed with plates of food: dolmades, hummus, and delicious flat breads. One waiter filled the couple’s silver goblets with blood red wine. ‘Never mind that. Let’s eat,’ Centaur murmured, taking a deep draft from his goblet and for the first time noticing the spangled stillness of the starlit sky. They ate in silence. The meal over, their stomachs full and their minds gently intoxicated by the wine, Centaur and Elektra strolled hand in hand down to the plunge pool beside the stream. Slipping off their clothes, they bathed gratefully in the clear waters. Elektra was an eager lover, taking him to heights of ecstasy that he could scarcely have imagined. Afterwards, they lay exhausted for some time on the bank of the stream, their bodies entwined, gazing up at the blinking stars. Centaur couldn’t remember falling asleep. It wasn’t until the Cloud’s insistent bleep roused him from his deep slumbers that he realised he was back in his room in Century Towers.