Sympathy for the Crocodile's Anguish
by Rohan Phipps

In lands to far to see, in towns by seas,
Voices of many tongues sing,
As virgin's dance and swing and play
From their deep found gratitude
To the cold creature who, in secrecy, stood
And blatantly showed he did understand!

SEE him as he weeps his many false tears,
His ancient face showing signs of long years,
Becoming hte spectre for their jeers,
A spectator to his own celebrations.
All their words upon his heart become abrasions
And he retires to his own nation
To live with his own, himself alone.

He is the crocodile!
See his steely eyes
And beguiling smile!
See how they draw you near,
His face stained with your tears,
And speack truth through his constant sneers.

The crocodile never sleeps,
And his smile remains only skin deep.
And when he cries out it is not about pain or loss,
Or the all this winter frost,
He cries out all that is true,
Cries out his epitomal love for you.

He reflect's his image from their frowns,
His smile like that of a clown's,
Thrown on in a minute's haste,
With only seconds to reflect upon his waste.
Drunken and desperately in need,
Drawn forth by immeasurable greed,
He washes the seeds of depression clean;
With alcohol he's a shadow unseen
And creates his hate from their serene.

He is the crocodile,
See his docile stance,
His magic stamps,
His mental clamps,
His spirit's cramps;
Listen to the tribal amps
And come! Come take communion among his camps!
He is the crocodile,
Do you see his smile?

"Pleased to meet you, let me speak.
Your permeating lies have begun to reek,
And, as I watch the slow rising sun,
I know my journey has just begun.
All your views lie hidden in the grass
Waiting for blind victims to pass
To destroy their views of peace,
Folding them into your crooked crease,
But I've boarded a bus and leave,
Hoping this emptiness will be relieved.
(not really relying on dreams)
I put on a slim grin of aftermath
And draw forth, from my hate, a formal path,
Emerging from the cold world's pain
To look coldly with tears, laughing again.
The Rain falls with a hypnotic grace
As my mind returns to her face
And every line with invisible fingers is traced.

I am chasing a fleeting dream
Becoming lost in the past's scream,
Sewn to her mystic seams,
All alone in the in between,
But I just sit coldly an smile,
For, like you all, I am the

The water settles to a gentle calm,
Kettles whistle like winds through palms,
And all the swing set children run to hide,
Hoping the monsters stay outside.

Ignore their desperate pleas
As we listen to the Autumn's breeze.

We stand as sillouettes to impending doom,
Unwanted guests in your silent room,
Toss and turn with our image in your brain,
Waking in the grip of our own insane,
And try to push us out
But all in vain.

Live with visions of our grins
Your mind now our living den.

He is the crocodile
See his smile stretch for miles
But don't run, he's your closest friend,
A partner, wanted or not, to the end.

Copyright © 1994 by Rohan Phipps

All rights reserved. No part of this work covered by the copyrights hereon may be reproduced or copied in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems - without written permission of the author.

Return to
Culture Cafe

Last modified 02.09.96