Jacqui Watts




Go The Way of Democracy



It is time to go

                        to the people

                                    to the polls

                                                the way of democracy

Time to make a mark

                                    speak our say



There is a window opening out onto the world

and we can pass

if we want

if we choose

                                    into a brave new day



Choices opening wide

Men debating their truths

                                    within the illuminated window

Only men

                        half our people have lost their voice

                                    without opening our mouths.



Let us go

            the way of democracy

                        the way of Uncle Sam

because it works so well over there

                                    God bless the sound bite

                                                              the chad

                              Mr. Personality God himself



Let us make free choices based

                                    on the empty words of men

                                    on the flickering of icons

in depthless windows

on backlit surfaces

on the skin of thought

                                                More voices lost

whose surfaces are not the shade

of men framed in the open window.



So many going without a whimper

                                                through doors and chimneys

                                                            behind the light

illuminating our world

Maybe the wick in midnight’s glass

draws us forward

                                     to hear the whisper of the people

                                          the way of us I am


            to hell in a hand made basket

                                    the way of the world

                                                the way of democracy.




Jacqui Watts © 2010






Moon light flows stiff like iced rain

I am bathing in the clarity of the circular moon

but where does it flow too

where does the flow end and the story begin

assuming there is a story

Is it about the moon in her icy stiffness

Is it just words in the blood singing without benefit

    of tune

Are the words living or just from life cut

a little piece, a slice, a molecule

Is it misguided to search for too much meaning

in all this untidiness

Is it so wrong to seek a sense of life

in the meaning of words as they flow

haltingly from their clarity

its complete, complacent roundness

We think fit to translate the man

to banality, cutting him free for simplicity’s sake

but applaud without slightest irony the obtuse

empty complex of an emperor’s latest threads

Pull them through, along, thawed round and round

Where does it take you into

the maze where a fat moon shines brightly

bathing its own crystalline clearness full circle

like empty starlight in the channelled wake

     of a thought

thin and hollowed in the iced rain




Jacqui Watts © 2010