Life Is A Gamble

Know this: life is a gamble.

Whether you like it or not,
you give all that you had and
you only get what you got.
That you are alive, here today,
is only because
others before have laid down
their lives.
The best do not survive!
Poems by Chuck Cliff
The Important Thing
A Latter Day Jonah...
A Simple Request
Intelligence
A Borderline Case of Innocence
Stranger in a Stranger Land
There was a Time
Farewell to Tarawathy
With No Regrets
Of Beetle Love and Happiness
Hungry Love
The Needs of Love
What-R-We?
Admitting to Greatness
Castles of Children
Questions of Depression?
The Question is!
The Important Thing @ 23.03.2000
I used to think, I knew why I was me,
That being me was something I took
Upon myself in sweet felicity!
But all too soon, I found that I was hooked:
& all the finer places were taken by stranger faces;
& that, in fact, it was a Hustlers Town!
So I ran away...
I kicked the traces...
To avoid the shit I saw was coming down
I hid, like some latter-day Jonas.
While all around, the storm clouds grew:
I found a sunny spot and, as a bonus,
I studied for seven years the books of the Jews.
I learned that what is more important than truth,
Is when -- and how -- you put it to good use!
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A Latter Day Jonah...
Walking down the street with a dollar in my hand,
I turned into an angel, a devil, a man.
I pushed myself beyond the shelf because
I was afraid to be what I really was.
And everytime there was a line that tried
to tell the truth, I always lied, denied
its essence, did whatever I could to prevent
Reality from shining through. I spent
a lifetime of lifetimes simply running away
like some latter-day Jonah, afraid
to sound aloud the words I found in my mouth...
The words which came to me with orders to shout
from rooftops and all the alleyways of Nineveh...
And yet, I never ran...I slouched away...
2
A Simple Request 1999
I am that fish,
flopping about
on dry land...
I am the fish,
gasping for breath
in your hand...
Throw me back,
into the sea --
Set me free!
Striving for excellence,
We are:
Children of the Opera!
Phantoms of Intelligence!
Where do we come from,
where do we go,
will we ever know?
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intelligence
This intelligence you enjoy:
is it a tool
Or some kind of toy?
I dreamt there were three
One had to leave
and the other
was suddenly gone
and I
was all alone
with my cupidity...
You see:
even this will disappear
This intelligence you enjoy
with such great
disgust
One day --
and then what?
An instant replay? ...
Perhaps now you understand
why clowns cry?
4
A Borderline Case of Innocence
Im not halfr as smart as I thought I was.
But then, I never really thought I was smart.
If I ever did, the reason was because
Those buggers tried to tear my soul apart
With bunches of multiple answer tests,
And clever questions, designed to pry inside
My mind, and find the thing which no one knows,
Or needs to, or even ever ought to want to...
But then I guess thats life and thats the way it is!
You got to give before you get to take.
At least, thats what I heard when I was young...
Sometimes I wish I had a chance to live.
In fact, I had a chance -- but was it faked:
In fact, they set me free to prove theyd done
Their job -- they knew Id never move to touch
The golden ring they dangled before my nose.
If I could, you know I would -- but how?
My hands are tied by unseen bonds as tight
As steel, I open my mouth to speak and feel
As if the words have turned to dust on my tongue.
Is there a word for this dis ease of mine?
There probably is, you know, but I suspect
That its a secret of that secret state
Which no one needs or ever ought to know...
Below the clicking relays and the trains
Of thought, my mind slowly wanders about
The answers to the Question I forgot
Insistent flies, buzz around my head,
Seeking blood, it looks as if Ill die
A borderline case of innocence...
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Chuck Cliff playing his songs at Cafe
Bjergtrolden in Roskilde, Denmark,
December 2013.
Stranger in a Stranger Land
I am a stranger in a stranger land,
A drummer drumming in a silent band.
The things which seem so obvious to me,
To others appear to be a mystery!
This is not a source of pride, as some might guess!
Its a source of such intense lonliness
That I would die if it were not for the fact
That breathings an involuntary act!
Sometimes I wonder what is going on,
& what has made me write these silly songs,
Songs which no one hardly ever hears!
(And Ive been singing them all these years)
Ive gotten to where I dont care to ask
Why hitting this chisel is my assigned task!
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There was a Time
TIere wus u LIme couId Iuve pIcked LIe IIowers
wIIcI grow upon
LIe burnIng mounLuIns oI LIe dIsLunL sun!
TIere wus u LIme wouId Iuve IougIL LIe mosL
desperuLe drugons
und conquered LIem, eucI und every one.
TIere wus u LIme LIuL couId IIy so IIgI,
beyond LIe sky!
BuL wus uIruId oI someLIIng, or wus IL someone?
TIere wus u LIme couId wrILe on bILs oI puper
und even wuIIs.
My IInes rIymed so IIne, IL wus sucI Iun!
TIere wus u LIme. BuL now IL Lukes me so Iong
Lo LIe my sIoeIuces
und yeL LIey come so very quIckIy undone.
TIere wus u LIme. BuL now sIL und wuLcI
LTIe sIurp gruIns
oI sund In my IourgIuss - Iow quIckIy LIey run!
TIere wus u LIme - buL LIme LIuL wus does,
cunnoL exIsL!
TIere Is onIy LIuL wIIcI Is - uII eIse Is none.
BuL sLIII, sLIII und yeL, LIere wus u LIme,
LIere reuIIy wus!
Yes! A LIme! Yes, und LIme Lo come!
The sign of the time is the sign of the son of man.
Writ in ragged chalk upon the blue;
The Blue board chalk is marked: five miles high
The evening mists gather in the valley
The morning sun burns away the fog
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The race you think you see will soon be over.
The son of man has always hid among us
What are we? The Missing Link?
Tomorrows Hangover?
It isnt as if you could say, This is the line,
It ends here and this is where it starts
In new beginnings like thin silver flakes
Falling from the morning sun
The foundation was laid with care and then at night
A building is raised and you say how did this happen?
You see the grass growing thru the cracks
in the concrete and asphalt
Its like the sun burning
away the fog in the morning
And all blasphemy disappears
in clouds of smoke
There was a time: and I, at six oclock,
would hurry home to be in time for vespers.
But now I hasten, in anxious stress,
that Ill be late and miss the evening news.
There was a time: and you could find me, in
Moments of quiet, on my knees in deep
Inwardness... But now you see me, here
And there, in airports -- with a laptop on my knees!...
There was a time: and I did greet each
& every stranger with an open heart!
But now I find I must avoid their eyes,
Afraid that they might see the fear in mine,
Or that I might see the madness in theirs...

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There was a time: and there was time for each
& every thing under heaven, but now...!
There is time for nothing, nothing but nothing at all..!
How strange it is -- indeed -- how strange it is!
For all we really need is three things:
some time in which to be alone;
some time in which to be together;
some time in which to do what our hands find to do.
Those three we need -- and a vision to tie them all together!
Its been said: One thing only is necessary...
...to he who has, more will be given...
Which means: for he who has no time, the little he has
is already past!
*******************************
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Farewell to Tarawathy 1999
Farewell to Tarawathy,
and all that jazz!
I'm off to do some real whaling,
and I ain't looking back!
Maybe I'll never see you again,
and that may be just as well.
They throw good coins in the street back there.
But why?
They never tell...
Ill never forget the day I came to work and found that some person I never saw
had found my name on a spreadsheet and decided my skills were no longer
needed by the company.
The company was exceedingly generous with money, far beyond what the law
required, but, I myself, was bitter, far beyond what I would have thought myself
capable. It just ate me up.
Many of my former colleagues told me that they felt like they were throwing
gold into the Streets.
If any of you ever find yourself in this situation, I just want you to know, dear
hearts, that all you can do is pick yourself up and say, that was an experience.
______________________________________________________
Farewell to Tarwthie:A whaling song from Scotland, , written by a miller at Fedderate, New Deer, in the early
1850s .The song is about a young man who leaves his farm at Tarwathie, possibly somewhere near Aberdeen, to
seek his fortune at whaling in Greenland.
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With No Regrets .4100., ...15 CET
!t's kind of ridiculous, the things we do
to make our way through each passing day.
We jump out of bed, bite some bread and chew
it quick, then gulp our coffee on our way
to the door. We say goodbye and out on the road
we go in droves of busses, cars and trucks.
Each day must bring at least a hundered blows!"
the Preacher said, !t's not a matter of luck!"
Win or lose, in the end -- it's all the same...
The vanity of trying to catch the wind"
leads only to more misery, sorrow and pain.
We're all trapped in snares before we begin
and the snare draws daily tighter around our necks...
!t's best to live life fully, with no regrets...
____________
Ny wandering mind came across a strange and rather disturbing
thought this morning. ! will try and describe it:
!f immortality could be purchased,
would it matter at all what it would have to cost?
There would be those who'd be ready to pay.
!f the elixir had to be distilled daily
from the bones of a thousand mutilated babies,
they would smile with glee and they would become
our masters. You think not? Consider this:
What will people not do for oil, for gold,
for diamonds?
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Of Beetle Love and Happiness
The noble goal we knew as happiness",
to which we have endowed rights" to pursue
1
,
has been advertised to mean naked success"...
Pardon me while ! puke on that!
Can we really put in a simple word two
the things, most deeply seen, we're looking for?
!t's true, to some, success means, money-in-the-bank!"
But some would rather be famous than filthy rich...
Some want it all" and some are happy with thanks".
Success can be austere or simple kishch.
To the scarab beetle
2
, that little Egyptian bug,
Success is just a pile of crap away
`cause crap is dung and dung is beetle love,
and beetle love means happiness today!
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2
Tl courub ic u loly bug wliol rollc durg ir|o li||l bullc |l ciz o illc or |l cuk o i|'c olildrr.
Oddly, wlu| rukc i| loly ic |lu| |l rourd bull ic u cyrbol o |l ur|l. l cuid oddly' bouuc
oorror, oorvr|iorul wicdor would |ll uc |lu|, ir oldr |irc' ol |lougl| |l ur|l wuc lu|.
\ll krow, |lu| juc| goc |o clow |lu| oorvr|iorul wicdor our b u loud o oru So, l irvi| ull you
b|l bruirc, |o oor urd ll r roll our oorvr|ior wicdor ir|o illcizd bullc
1
Tl rrro ic obvioucly |o |l Doluru|ior o lrdrdro, \ lold |lc |ru|lc |o b
clvidr|...rdowd by |lir Cru|or...|l urcui| o luircc...'
Hungry Love @ 29.03.98
! was hungry for love, so hungry
! thought it was the end of the world,
running nakedly down the street,
wearing all of my clothes,
shouting silently in my mind,
The sky, the sky is falling!",
! didn't know what ! was doing,
! was Chicken Little!
! was hungry for love, ! was hungry without,
hungry, so hungry within!
The world was madly spinning on
the point of a sharp pin!
You want a painted illustration of my
aberation?
! thought it was all a part of my
education"!
The lesson is to answer the Question
which nobody ever asks!
What kind of a school is this where they play
tricks on you like that?
You have to cling by your nails to walls
of dark obsidian glass,
and dingle there by your thumbs until
the stars of night come out,
Waiting for something extraordinary to pass...
and the only excuse you're allowed to give is:
! was hungry for love!"
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The Needs of Love 09-06-01
I thought I needed love,
but I was wrong!
Or maybe: what I thought was love,
was not?
Ive heard it said that love is like a song;
and that, when you sing, you sing with all youve got!
I think perhaps its like a little boy
who wants his ice cream now -- and will not wait!
The thing he wants: its not the whining noise
he makes to get his dad into a state
of mind to where hell give his kid a treat.
I think that love, perhaps, is a bit like that...
Not knowing what we really want, we cheat
and steal for ice cream cones and other crap...
When all we wanted was the simplest thing:
My all, my everything, my only diamond ring!
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What-R-We?
Answer all these questions quickly, before you start
To think too much about them. Is it natural
To have the inner-sight & are we only animals?
It would seem we had to struggle to get to where we are:
Halfway to heaven, or well on our way to hell?
Its kind of hard to tell, and maybe just well!
People have a tendency to act like cars
& think they have the right of way just because
Theyre on the highway and make their own laws
Are we only loneliness, scratching in the dark?
And if, somehow, we should wander into the light,
Is it true, that all wed do, is run away in fright?
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Admitting to Greatness @ 1999
Ny dear, sweet, kind and closest friends:
!'m not half as wise as you think ! am;
Not only are my feet made of clay,
!'ve got it between my ears!"
what else can ! say?
Hypocrisy" is just a nasty word
we use to talk about them other birds,
but turned against our own more precious conceits,
it's taste becomes somewhat...bitter sweet!
Just because our words chance to rhyme,
that doesn't make them true - it makes truth shine!
False modesty's a tricky hypocrisy...
! freely admit it's true when you say of me
that !'m great - but so are you!
8 our greatness stands
upon the smal-lest things we do - understand?
16
Castles of Children 1999 Chuck Cliff
The door opened slowly and into the room
Flew castles of children, all carrying brooms:
Up in the attic, theres cobwebs and gloom!
Down in the cellar, its crawling with doom!
Clean it all out -- and ever so soon!
Clean it up now with dust-pan and broom!
These children flew around like a swarm of young bees,
So busy that they hardly noticed me
Standing there, amazed at their efficiency.
Who are you, young children? Where do you come from?
Dont worry, old man, we were sent by Someone
To clean up the mess youve made of your life
& reunite you again with the love-of-your-life
But, children, its already late afternoon!
Dont worry, they cried, were finished & soon
The sun will be shining into all of your rooms.
_______________________
I really loved Dr. Seuss, when I was a kid.
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Questions of Depression? 17-12-99
Its such a lonely feeling that I have!
I ask myself: will I be happy when
The sun does shine again upon my heart?
Will I find the strength to take another start?
Can I face another dark and dreary day?
(Has darkness come to make its final stay?)
The end is drawing near, so fast, so fast...
Theres really nothing very morbid in that!
The fact is that it always has, you see,
We are but seconds from eternity.
A solar flare, a change in some stellar wind,
The sidereal clock tocks and ticks and then:
What strange cuckoo bird is this that sings?
What word, what message in those leathery wings?
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The Question IS! @ 21-12-99
Ive heard it said that when we die, we fly
Away to some super castle-in-the-sky;
While others claim, that when the lights go out,
Eternal night will gobble up our doubts!
It doesnt help to close your eyes and say:
Super double whammy -- go away!
I do believe the Moon-is-made-of-cheese!
That means Im-saved and nothing can touch me!
The only things we know for sure, you see,
Is that we all get older as we breathe;
That life is given as we take each breath;
That each breath takes us closer to death.
The question is not: What happens when we die?
The question is: What happens, that were alive?
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