We did not know that it would be like this
That it would be quite like this……
And Truth is not what we imagined it to be,
Nor is there any joy in being free.
We did not know, for no-one ever told us
(And not many could have told us),
Of the difficulties involved in our deviation
And the utter futility at our destination.
And now we’re tired and sad and disillusioned.
We have seen and there is nothing more to see.
And those who have not seen can never understand
And those who have are powerless to change the fateful hand.
And all around is beauty in the things we used to praise –
And everything is a memory of unforgotten days.
For we never will forget the way that it used to be –
We have found the truth but we are not really free.
We have spoken and there is no more to say –
I suppose it’s possible to live our lives some way.
We’ll never feel again that we belong
Or know if we are really ‘right’ or ‘wrong’.
20th August ‘1963 after reading Colin Wilson’s ‘The Outsider’
It is hard for us to understand
Why men were made this way….
That some great god had really planned
A home for such as they.
For nature does not teach us,
The Bible cannot reach us,
Nor holy men convince us
That God will bring a cure.
It is hard for us to understand
That death is not the end….
That to some vast and ghostly land,
Our spirits will ascend.
We cannot quite believe it
And even if we wished it,
We still could not receive it
Until we were quite sure.
So we must try to live without
Knowledge of Truth and Right
‘Til death relieves us of our doubt
And steeps our souls in night.
Then if He’s there we’ll see Him
(Though we may have to flee Him)
Because we could not see Him
On earth and were not sure.
Insidious evil stalks the Market Place
Spreading so fast
It’s deceptive embrace –
Seductive and vast.
From ‘Ivory Towers to City banks
And ‘Corridors of Power’
To our Media’s corrupted face.
Alas for humanity – divided society,
Undermined solidarity –
Lost without trace.
Cry out for the thousands collaterally broken –
Give voice to the millions who never are heard.
There’s not much more time for truth to be spoken,
Let’s make a commitment to spreading this word.
Written for Blair’s Gift Challenge Competition. See her great Blog at
Youthful vitality ! I wouldst thou were to me
The breathing spirit of the heart and veins
Thou art to some. Instead, the heavy chains
Of thought from which I’ll ne’er be free
Crush like a weed my soul which cries for liberty.
These hours which should be filled with song and pleasure
Are robbed of innocence, of quiet leisure –
While in their stead I watch in misery
Day follow day, tears follow tears and never
Anyone to understand. It’s hard
To smile when the heart is crying.
But oh, if ever I find one to understand and
love me for a while,
The years and all my guilt shall fade away –
I shall be young again and free and gay.
November ’61 (c) IconoclasticNan
When we decide to be
Out of anxiety –
Now a forever free,
Pagan Society –
We ask no sympathy
From your complacency.
We have spent thoughtfully
Sleepless nights, tearfully –
Cried out in agony,
In the complexity
Of all philosophy
Creeds and theology –
We cannot see
You may be sure of right.
We have not any light
Shining in our dark night
No God redeems our plight
So all alone we fight
‘Gainst your dogmatic height –
Rejecting your rules, so trite
Until at last in sight
Freedom comes, gently, bright.
Yet still we’re not happy, quite
Midst your reproving blight.
We do not wish you spite –
You dressed in spotless white –
(Always so sure of right) –
We do not have your light –
Leave us in freedom’s night.
Then will we quietly
Wander in ecstasy,
Finding fresh poignancy
In life’s variety.
We will live joyfully
Children of gaiety
Finding in fantasy
All that we could not see
In man’s philosophy.
Childlike and humble, we
Live for discovery
Now making history
We do not think we’ll be
Burned in eternity.
We alone are the free
Thoughts which may not be in words expressed
Form toxins in my mind and heart and being.
Let me be free of them. Give me some rest.
When can I live again without all this fleeing,
This sham and hypocrisy, lies and pretence?
Childish and laughable, wrong and evasive.
Let them be tolerant. Give them some sense.
My way is right for me. If they’re persuasive –
Science is more so. Just let me find my way,
Slowly and steadily, quietly, haltingly.
Truth comes to the traveller alone in the fray,
Who, longing to find it has fought to be free.
Forgive the child who cannot understand
And cannot be the person you had planned.
It is not so much that we remember them
Or stand in church and sing and think and pray
Our eyes cast down. But rather it is they
Who speak to us. Even the scarlet emblem
Is ours alone. A light to guide our way,
Not to bring them sympathy or sadness –
They have no use of these. Gladness,
Victory and life was theirs. Dying, they say –
Life is in you. Go and live. Not sinless,
Not without sickness, suffering, bitter tears.
Bring to life the desire to live. Be heedless
Of death’s sweet allure. The years
Are too soon gone. Therefore be tireless
In being glad. In living without fears.