The Spoonbill Generator

What tremor racks my boneless foot?

What rumour caused a fall of soot?

We speculate, but, in our souls

We find but many tiny holes

Where mousetraps might be put

What tumor racks my mindless brain?

What causes this inexplicable pain?

We contemplate, but, in our hearts

We find a mass of broken parts

Which tears and grief sustain

What timer tracks my restless thought?

What tempest blows us out of port?

We ponder this, but in our brain

We memorize each passing train

to track it's final run.

What trivia disturbs my sleep?

I listen well, but not a peep!

We peddle lies, but each in turn

Despises those who never learn

The customs of the deep.

What trimmer shaves my mental beard?

Where's the wheel for which I'm geared?

We theorize, but all we know

Simple in our fading mortal glow

As time to die is neared

What man rapes my restless mind?

With imprecations so unkind

We analyse, but in our dreams

We hear a host of high-pitched screams

As blindmen lead the blind

What trimaran lies moored within

What rower fuels our fear of sin?

We scrutinise, but all we see

is blasphemy...more blasphemy

Than can be drowned with gin

What torment wrecks my brainless faith?

Whence comes this caterwauling wraith?

We catechise, yet in the end

The spirit is our only friend

In mortal plane or lathe

What holy one doth bless this day?

Whose relics all defy display?

We theorize, to no effect

Save outbursts of intense neglect

Can this be the only way?

Contributors:	Roland, P, Stacy, R. J. Towns, KD, kent, M. Forsyth, KMA, Kent, Lucretia, TG.
Poem finished:	18th March 1997.