Still Deep Waters

The still waters in the smile behind the eyes run deep
As in ripples her story of life before death rises
And for a brief moment the fountain of youth flows over
And we see a picture of Africa
Not the negative portrait of dying
But an image of real hope rising

Standing alone his heart burns with fire and passion
In his fingers his families life-blood and health is held
Duty driven to share the knowledge that will feed others
And we see a picture of Africa
Not the negative stereotype starving
But an image of real hope rising

We painted a barren landscape
Masterpiece of our constant greed
Colonized and consumed
Framed in climate confusion
Debt-dependent and enslaved
Hung out to dry by unfair trade

He works the well drawing deep clean water with pride and joy
The well being a key to unlock his young life’s future
Any given time taken and enjoyed as fam’ly
And we see a picture of Africa
Not the negative snapshot of crying
But an image of real hope rising

© David Hardman 2008

Rooted in this Land

Under the shadow of the olive tree
The old man lay dreaming
At least in his sleep he is free
To visit a place
That used to be
A land that was free

Under the guidance of his grandfather
The young boy stands learning
His trade - olive trees – a farmer
In years to come
He’d lose it all
Right behind the wall

His family, his friends, his life, his wealth
All rooted in this land
His story, his dreams, his hope, his health
All rooted in this land
Olive trees symbols of future and past 
His people proof that hope - hope can last
All rooted in this land

In view and full sight of the settlement
The young trees are planted
Father and his son their statement -
‘Not profit but hope’
They farm their land
Peaceful make their stand

His family, his friends, his life, his wealth
All rooted in this land
His story, his dreams, his hope, his health
All rooted in this land
Olive trees symbols of future and past
His people proof that hope - hope can last
All rooted in this land

© David Hardman 2005

The Advertitudes

Blessed are those with beautiful skin
for they will not grow old

Blessed are those who drive sleek cars
for they will have sex

Blessed are those who fly abroad on holiday
for they shall find paradise

Blessed are those who buy now and pay later
for they shall have it all

Blessed are those who drink the right beer
for they shall be men

Blessed are those who buy the latest CDs
for they shall be top dog

Blessed are those who buy in the sales
for they shall consume more

Blessed are those who are famous
for the world will want to be them

Blessed are those who have powerful jobs
for they will rule the world

Blessed are those who are members of a Gym
for they will think they are healthy

Blessed are those who shop at Tesco's
for every little helps to make them massive profits

Blessed are those who look after number one
for they won't have a care in the world

Blessed are those who dress in the right label
'cause the world will know just how much you spend

Blessed are those who show their power by might
for everyone left will like them
Blessed are those who buy self-help books 

for you will find happiness 
(repeat after me: I will find happiness) 

© David Hardman 2008

It is Sweet and Right

Bent double and stiff necked on bikes we ride,

Locked knees, through quiet France, the engine roars

Shattering a peace that hides how you died

In battle to cross the Sambre-Oise canal at Ors.                        

Drafted when wars could be won or lost,

Lives exploded by bullet, shell and gas.

Human being an affordable cost

As seventeen million fell en masse

A time when a battlefield was just that -

Now the subway, plane, mall, or twin tower,

As civilians and history, laid flat,

Are collateral damage of power.

Killed in the great war to end all wars

It didn’t work - when do wars ever do?

Devastating young lives of army corps

Khaki and grey stained by blood’s crimson hue.

You gave not just your life but also truth -

The Send Off of those who die as cattle,

Exposing the Anthem for Doomed Youth -

What it means to die and live in battle.   

There’s no signpost to your weathered grave

Strangely among the more recent natural dead.

Secret rest, like wrongs hushed up, for the brave.

Simple fading inscription to be read.

Aware at your grave, bathed in sunlight,

How brave you were to expose, last century,

The old lie: It is sweet and right

to die for your country.

© David Hardman 2015

Touch of Eternity

Time suspends
Her walk of life
As I step into your eyes
Sinking without a trace
In the ocean of your love
A stolen second of your time
Is a touch of eternity

Life betrays
Her hold on truth
As I melt into your arms
Refined and purified
In the furnace of your love
To catch a breath of your life
Is a touch of eternity

Truth releases
Herself in time
As I lie under your kiss 
Speaking without a sound
In the volume of your love
The honest hold of your truth
Is a touch of eternity 

© David Hardman 2005

You are My Password

You are my password -
A secret that unlocked me,
Rebooted my rambling heart
Restarting my drive for life -
You are my password.

You are my password -
A reset for my emotions,
Defragmentation of my soul,
Installation of such joy -
You are my password.

You are my password -
I type anew everyday
Without anyone ever knowing -
Secret held secure in our lives.
You are my password.

You are my password -
All the long-hidden memories,
Such sensitive information,
Now updated in your love -
You are my password.

You are my password -
Erasing all those who have tried
To hack my vulnerable heart,
Helping me to crash and burn.
You are my password.

You are my password -
I will never forget, each digit
Indelibly written in love,
My memory full of you -
You are my password.

© David Hardman 2015

Consuming Love

I never could satisfy you 
you wanted more than I could give 
I gave you the whole of the earth 
you laid me to waste just to live 

You must remember the good times
First love in paradise garden
So engrossed with one another
We wandered too far from Eden

I still trusted in us as you
Grew fat off me in middle age
With carefree flights of fancy
And a mistress in each new age

Intent on destroying me
Constant demand for more and more
With your all-consuming love
That broke each one of nature’s laws

You think I’m not who I once was
Frail & weak I’m too old to fight
You say I blow hot then cold
Blind to your part in my plight

You ignored my constant warnings 
With total denial and lies
Head buried in the sands of time
As every last part of me dies

© David Hardman 2009

The Creation of Charlie Darwin

Yes I have faith yet its not blind 
I can believe and still use my mind

And I look to God for the kingdom come
thankful for all the battles science has won

So thank you good Lord from my heart within 
for the creation of Charlie Darwin

Seven day story not faith’s only key -
evolution can start with the deity

In the Genesis myth of creation
there’s no enemy of natural selection

So thank you good Lord from my heart within 
for the creation of Charlie Darwin

Set the Beagle loose with Adam & Eve 
To let faith evolve and let science believe

© David Hardman 2009


In 2009 we celebrated 200 years of Darwin's birth. At the time many songs were written about him including Evolution by Show of Hands. I have the utmost respect for Steve Knightley he is a fantastic songwriter. But his treatment of religion in Evolution was lazy and popularist. This lyric was my response.

Buy Me A Rainbow

Your sun bright above me
Shines in my soulless life
Your rainfall over me
Floods through my lifeless soul
Your world’s all about me;
You’re my world - I am whole. . .

Buy me a rainbow; paint it in my sky,
As a promise to never say good-bye.


Your breeze right through me
Blows away mindless thoughts
Your snow freezing on me
Drifts in my thoughtless mind
Your world’s all about me;
You’re my world - You are mine. . .

Buy me a rainbow; paint it in my sky,
As a promise to never say good-bye.


© David Hardman 2005

Faith in Real Life

I am the wind in your hair,

The baby abandoned somewhere, 

The out-stretched begging hand,

Refugee from a war-torn land.
I am the new life of spring,

The Devastation flooding brings,

The wind-blown paper bag,
Centre-fold of the porno mag.

I am the rhythm of life
The scream of the battered wife,
Cold rain that soaks your skin
And the unmentionable sin.
The crying of those who mourn,
Waking to a beautiful dawn,
The massive top ten hit,
Street kid asleep in shit.

I am the staggering drunk
And the holy sober monk,
The scent of your lover’s bed,
The feeling of being well fed.
The person dying of AIDS
And those who watch them slowly fade,
The fox being chased as prey
And the lesbian and the gay.

I am the child abused,
The teenager much amused,
Those who live on death row,
The places people fear to go.
The cheated out for revenge,
The laughter and chatter of friends,
The MP who ‘really cares’,
And everyone at Friday prayers.

I AM the burning sunset
And the gambler’s losing bet
The roar of the winning goal,
Desperate worker on the dole.
The slow and patient sunrise,
Love betrayed in people’s eyes,
Those who starve and those who feast,
I AM the greatest and the least.


© David Hardman 2001

Yours is not a Beauty

Yours is not a beauty
framed and then hung on the wall.
Not the wonder and awe of the artists knife, 
Creating you in textured canvass image.
Yours is a beauty, a beauty that is life.

Yours is not a beauty 
pretty as a poet's pen.
Not a picture painted in phrase and in word,
As personality is portrayed in print.
Yours is a beauty, a beauty, to be heard.

Yours is not a beauty
a technicolour likeness.
Not a stunning smile that never grows old,
In an instant, caught on camera, forever.
Yours is a beauty, a beauty, I must hold. 

Yours is not a beauty 
of art, poem or picture.
It's a beauty I experience and feel. 
Not in self-indulgent art - but with you.
Yours is a beauty, a beauty, that is real.

© David Hardman 1997

In Defence of the Manchester Pirates

In Defence of the Manchester Pirates*

Surely there can be no real rhyme or reason
Why music is in the hands of soulless suits
Capable only to judge art by the pound
While genus and talent is left to drown

Charting success by raising their sales
With the sound of cash tills ringing in their ears
Art sold down the river note by ten pound note
To line their pockets and keep themselves afloat

     Yet back in the days of yore
     We understood what art was for
     No-one person owned a song
     To share music was not wrong
     What everyone expected
     A tradition well respected
     Art shared as stories were told
     By all the troubadours of old

Who really suffers when music is downloaded
Not the poor artist or their masterpiece
But the cash flow of the profit hungry bankers
And the pockets of music industry ...

It’s time to take a stand and sing our song out loud
A song to bring real pirates to their knees
Once a song is sung it’s in the public domain
To lift the souls of all, here it must remain

     Face up to the soulless suits
     Reclaim music at it’s roots
     Put punk back in our nation
     And pop into population
     Art always for the masses
     Not just the money’d classes
     Tell those who got rich of rock
     That they can go and folk right off

© David Hardman 2012

* In 2012 a report claimed Manchester was the illegal download capital of the UK for music. Manchester music lovers were branded pirates. My understanding of pirates are unscrupulous criminals who steal what is not theirs for their own gain - my understanding of the music industry is....