Tuesday, February 28
Too tired to talk
I've been running all day. ALL DAY.
No, not in that park with pink spring blossoms and myriad tulips yet to bloom.
Nor on that concrete strip by the river bordered by wet patches of dirty grass. (Too hard on the knees and too soft on the system).
Not even in that frenetic office full of fake friends who dump on you.
No. I've been trying to keep up with the speed of sound, or is it noise, in my head?
How long am I gonna stand
With my head stuck under the sand
I'll start before I can stop or
Before I see things the right way up (Coldplay)
Try it sometime. Can be more thrilling than the rollercoaster hurtling through space at disney and more exhausting than a treadmill on a steep incline you can't get off.
Truth is, every inch of me feels fabulously numb, free of the capacity to
feel, kneel,
think, link,
taste, waste,
walk or even talk.
A rumbling in the distance. (Wow, stomach ain't dead yet)
So apologies if I'm hungry and need to bite your head off, and chew it greedily and wash it down with some liquid lies.
I'm sorry if I made your precious nerves twitch testily, and rattled your fine senses to a tune that would have made Stravinsky proud.
And isn't it amazing, that we can still make music, a little differently perhaps, but still music, wouldn't you agree?
Like others can't. Or won't. Or never knew how to.
Aren't you proud of us? We're better than them.
We outlasted every prophecy, ever speck of doom, every spot of gloom.
And no matter how tasteless, I would still never spit out those bits, for fear of going hungry.
No, not in that park with pink spring blossoms and myriad tulips yet to bloom.
Nor on that concrete strip by the river bordered by wet patches of dirty grass. (Too hard on the knees and too soft on the system).
Not even in that frenetic office full of fake friends who dump on you.
No. I've been trying to keep up with the speed of sound, or is it noise, in my head?
How long am I gonna stand
With my head stuck under the sand
I'll start before I can stop or
Before I see things the right way up (Coldplay)
Try it sometime. Can be more thrilling than the rollercoaster hurtling through space at disney and more exhausting than a treadmill on a steep incline you can't get off.
Truth is, every inch of me feels fabulously numb, free of the capacity to
feel, kneel,
think, link,
taste, waste,
walk or even talk.
A rumbling in the distance. (Wow, stomach ain't dead yet)
So apologies if I'm hungry and need to bite your head off, and chew it greedily and wash it down with some liquid lies.
I'm sorry if I made your precious nerves twitch testily, and rattled your fine senses to a tune that would have made Stravinsky proud.
And isn't it amazing, that we can still make music, a little differently perhaps, but still music, wouldn't you agree?
Like others can't. Or won't. Or never knew how to.
Aren't you proud of us? We're better than them.
We outlasted every prophecy, ever speck of doom, every spot of gloom.
And no matter how tasteless, I would still never spit out those bits, for fear of going hungry.
Monday, February 27
Can I, can't I?
Sun shining outside my window. Inside my window.
Outside my head. Inside her head.
A dream of flaxen curls on my pillow.
So sheer, so soft, it startles
and scares with its sweetness.
Lightly caressing the still white linen,
they play hide and seek with the errant sunlight
Now pale, now sparkling brighter
than the stars in my eyes.
A fresh wind blows them tantalisingly awry,
and I notice many many more
beneath those first
fulsome fragrant folds.
Waves like wanton waifs
Washing over a weary world of wanderers-
wayward, weary, wishing, wanting, waiting...
If curls could shake the world-
this is it, this is it.
No fire, no smoke, no ashes to stoke.
And yet, why should it take a million years
before I can let my fingertips
dance to their maddeningly mellow tune?
Shhhh...tread gently.
You know she'll never wake
but be careful,
for you just may.
Outside my head. Inside her head.
A dream of flaxen curls on my pillow.
So sheer, so soft, it startles
and scares with its sweetness.
Lightly caressing the still white linen,
they play hide and seek with the errant sunlight
Now pale, now sparkling brighter
than the stars in my eyes.
A fresh wind blows them tantalisingly awry,
and I notice many many more
beneath those first
fulsome fragrant folds.
Waves like wanton waifs
Washing over a weary world of wanderers-
wayward, weary, wishing, wanting, waiting...
If curls could shake the world-
this is it, this is it.
No fire, no smoke, no ashes to stoke.
And yet, why should it take a million years
before I can let my fingertips
dance to their maddeningly mellow tune?
Shhhh...tread gently.
You know she'll never wake
but be careful,
for you just may.
Sunday, February 26
Welcome to my nightmare
Hard cold sleet
Rough wrinkled feet
Endless barren sand
Blistered ugly hand.
Stale blackened toast
Tough leftover roast
No one on my side
No safe place to hide.
Dark dingy house
Cheerful cheating spouse
Cacophonic kids
Losing market bids.
Noisy neighbours knocking
Hard drive crashing
Milk boiling over
Nine hour layover.
Boss hates your guts
Career in a rut
Friends far away
Hair turning grey.
Tangled tacky life
Rusty carving knife
Dig it in deep
Long dreamless sleep.
I'm lying.
Thats your nightmare, not mine.
You'll have to pay me a fortune to tell you mine
And perhaps one sunny day
It'll all be fine.
Rough wrinkled feet
Endless barren sand
Blistered ugly hand.
Stale blackened toast
Tough leftover roast
No one on my side
No safe place to hide.
Dark dingy house
Cheerful cheating spouse
Cacophonic kids
Losing market bids.
Noisy neighbours knocking
Hard drive crashing
Milk boiling over
Nine hour layover.
Boss hates your guts
Career in a rut
Friends far away
Hair turning grey.
Tangled tacky life
Rusty carving knife
Dig it in deep
Long dreamless sleep.
I'm lying.
Thats your nightmare, not mine.
You'll have to pay me a fortune to tell you mine
And perhaps one sunny day
It'll all be fine.
Saturday, February 25
Its getting darker
I'm shivering uncontrollably.Its a balmy 26 degrees centigrade. Goosebumps, chilled palms. Why?
One stark relentless thought in my mind. Foolish fears I can't beat out of that fevered brain.
Live. Breathe. Even if you don't want to. Its going to be worse when you die. Didn't they teach you that at school you little wimp?
There are no demons. There never were.
Its a sunny sweet world. People love each other. They love you too.
Even if you tear them apart and run away from it all.
Listen to me. Use your eyes and ears since you won't use that brain of yours (cursing under my severely constricted breath). Look at me .
Its not all about you. Get it? Like it or not, it never was. So get wise.
Do unto them as they do unto you. Screw the bastards. Cherish the angels.
Hold a newborn baby in your arms and know, that even if it never feels the same again, you are still you, and no one can take that away.
Even if you beg them to.
One stark relentless thought in my mind. Foolish fears I can't beat out of that fevered brain.
Live. Breathe. Even if you don't want to. Its going to be worse when you die. Didn't they teach you that at school you little wimp?
There are no demons. There never were.
Its a sunny sweet world. People love each other. They love you too.
Even if you tear them apart and run away from it all.
Listen to me. Use your eyes and ears since you won't use that brain of yours (cursing under my severely constricted breath). Look at me .
Its not all about you. Get it? Like it or not, it never was. So get wise.
Do unto them as they do unto you. Screw the bastards. Cherish the angels.
Hold a newborn baby in your arms and know, that even if it never feels the same again, you are still you, and no one can take that away.
Even if you beg them to.
Sting me!
A piece entitled Woman with Her Throat Cut by Alberto Giacometti. (Swiss, 1901-1966). . 1932 (cast 1949)on display at the MOMA.
Friday, February 24
Lock her up too
She felt nothing.
Except that vast vicious void that would have swallowed her, were it not for that shoe clutched in frantic fingers.
Took an eternity, to scrape herself off
bit by bit from the floor.
Wrapped 'little ugly thing' in silver foil
And shut the freezer door.
Fetch the needles, stitch me up, call me your whore
All the while we stuck so close, I never asked for more.
For everyday I clipped your wings
And made your back so sore
I'll tell the lord to feed you worms
And fix the heart I tore.
So think of every game I played
And all the lonely nights you prayed
That I would turn to angel dust
And be that woman you could trust.
Know thats what I needed too
and every beating rang so true
and long before we said "I do"
You were me and I was you.
Yes, that was me inside of you
Squeezing every nerve end blue.
Come back here sweetheart,we're not through
I need more blood, you need me too.
And baby, while they thrash you blue
Can you hear the mermaids sing for you?
Except that vast vicious void that would have swallowed her, were it not for that shoe clutched in frantic fingers.
Took an eternity, to scrape herself off
bit by bit from the floor.
Wrapped 'little ugly thing' in silver foil
And shut the freezer door.
Fetch the needles, stitch me up, call me your whore
All the while we stuck so close, I never asked for more.
For everyday I clipped your wings
And made your back so sore
I'll tell the lord to feed you worms
And fix the heart I tore.
So think of every game I played
And all the lonely nights you prayed
That I would turn to angel dust
And be that woman you could trust.
Know thats what I needed too
and every beating rang so true
and long before we said "I do"
You were me and I was you.
Yes, that was me inside of you
Squeezing every nerve end blue.
Come back here sweetheart,we're not through
I need more blood, you need me too.
And baby, while they thrash you blue
Can you hear the mermaids sing for you?
Mama
I'm a jerk. Always have been. Gotta survive the big bad world, ya know.
My mama was a rolling stone. Not true. Just my imagination.
My papa beat me blue. Not my imagination.
So I stole my brother's girl. Killed my sister's man. Left my partner high and dry. Beat my wife to pulp. And never shed a tear.
Gunrunning undercover. Bold, tough muscle. Brazen balls.
They locked him up one fine morning. In a 4x8 cell with grotty green walls.
Its dark in here. Kinda cold too.
Tossing my coin for the fiftieth time.
There's nothing much to do.
I never touched the dirty stuff though. Just one time.
Lost my mind for a night. When my sweet mama died.
My mama. Didja know her? No one quite like her- in my life at least.
She bred me, fed me, stroked me, broke me.
She was here, there , everywhere.
A creature born to fight.
And she taught me well.
Yes, she taught me never to see the light.
For fear it spoils me.
I miss you mama. Where d'ja go?
Even if I left you, didn't you always know -
only your arms could make me sleep,
and your cries could make me weep.
And I'm still knocking on your door,
long after you knew me no more.
Please mama, let me in.
I'm worn out, weary- need some lovin.
My mama was a rolling stone. Not true. Just my imagination.
My papa beat me blue. Not my imagination.
So I stole my brother's girl. Killed my sister's man. Left my partner high and dry. Beat my wife to pulp. And never shed a tear.
Gunrunning undercover. Bold, tough muscle. Brazen balls.
They locked him up one fine morning. In a 4x8 cell with grotty green walls.
Its dark in here. Kinda cold too.
Tossing my coin for the fiftieth time.
There's nothing much to do.
I never touched the dirty stuff though. Just one time.
Lost my mind for a night. When my sweet mama died.
My mama. Didja know her? No one quite like her- in my life at least.
She bred me, fed me, stroked me, broke me.
She was here, there , everywhere.
A creature born to fight.
And she taught me well.
Yes, she taught me never to see the light.
For fear it spoils me.
I miss you mama. Where d'ja go?
Even if I left you, didn't you always know -
only your arms could make me sleep,
and your cries could make me weep.
And I'm still knocking on your door,
long after you knew me no more.
Please mama, let me in.
I'm worn out, weary- need some lovin.
Thursday, February 23
Beat it to a perfect pulp
Did you think I was going to write about souffle? Call it what you like.
He has little gooey chunks of them, all kinds of fruity flavours, tucked away in labelled jars at the back of his shoe cupboard. Why shoe cupboard you ask me? Read on.
Part 1
You could hear her muffled cries in his stone cold ears.
You could hear his angry roar blazing through her fears.
Stroking every naked inch till every pore is ripe
To ravage with a burning spike he'd twist and twirl and swipe.
Tough black boots that never bend
Purple wounds that never mend
Grinding grey that pretty face
Grinning as he ripped that lace.
Grab her hair, don't make a sound
Watch her writhing, bruised and bound
Make the shoe come down again
Make her glad she found your den.
Harder now, he kicks and kicks
Every blow a bristling brick
Her insides now a mad mauled mess
Her skin merged with the pale pink dress.
She felt the blood flow, black and dead
Unborn infant lying in red.
Part II
A little funny ugly thing
She'd nurtured gladly
just for him.
No pain now
Just a hungry moan
A wild eyed tear stained
shattered groan.
And still the kicks went on and on
She kissed his feet
And begged his scorn
And hugged his image in her mind
And worshipped gladly, wrecked and blind.
So love me as you always do
This one's stained,get a brand new shoe.
He has little gooey chunks of them, all kinds of fruity flavours, tucked away in labelled jars at the back of his shoe cupboard. Why shoe cupboard you ask me? Read on.
Part 1
You could hear her muffled cries in his stone cold ears.
You could hear his angry roar blazing through her fears.
Stroking every naked inch till every pore is ripe
To ravage with a burning spike he'd twist and twirl and swipe.
Tough black boots that never bend
Purple wounds that never mend
Grinding grey that pretty face
Grinning as he ripped that lace.
Grab her hair, don't make a sound
Watch her writhing, bruised and bound
Make the shoe come down again
Make her glad she found your den.
Harder now, he kicks and kicks
Every blow a bristling brick
Her insides now a mad mauled mess
Her skin merged with the pale pink dress.
She felt the blood flow, black and dead
Unborn infant lying in red.
Part II
A little funny ugly thing
She'd nurtured gladly
just for him.
No pain now
Just a hungry moan
A wild eyed tear stained
shattered groan.
And still the kicks went on and on
She kissed his feet
And begged his scorn
And hugged his image in her mind
And worshipped gladly, wrecked and blind.
So love me as you always do
This one's stained,get a brand new shoe.
Rock my world
And I so love to watch you
Wiggle your hips
To ear splitting rock riffs
and blow kisses
at the dog in the mirror.
And throw your arms out in rare abandon
Beat your head to a frenzied drumbeat
in a steady staccato rhythm.
See you strum that invisible guitar
Like you might lose your life tomorrow
Stomp the sleeping floor awake
Lean over, tingling taut muscle
Bounce viciously on the shaken sofa.
Pucker your brow, practise the perfect pout
Arch your eyes and rasp out loud
Each well loved indecipherable lyric
Get it right, get it wrong
Grin wickedly,wink stupidly
Swig an empty bottle of beer
And cheer for the dead man.
Assume your classiest swagger
Light the wrong end of a joint
Spin thrice
Let out that electric yell
the sexiest ever (or so you think!)
Grab a cool black cap,or spotted red bandana
and jump lionlike
feet curved, hair flying wildly
crashland on immaculate glass coffee table.
Shrug heroically, glare petulantly
Relinquish guitar and grab drumsticks
Roll in stomach, stiffen knees and
let wrists go wild...
Cock your head and holler huskily
"are you with me tonight?"
Of course I am.
As soon as I can straighten up!
And who needs laughter therapy, when I've got you?
And just in case I'm dreaming, don't you dare wake me up.
Wiggle your hips
To ear splitting rock riffs
and blow kisses
at the dog in the mirror.
And throw your arms out in rare abandon
Beat your head to a frenzied drumbeat
in a steady staccato rhythm.
See you strum that invisible guitar
Like you might lose your life tomorrow
Stomp the sleeping floor awake
Lean over, tingling taut muscle
Bounce viciously on the shaken sofa.
Pucker your brow, practise the perfect pout
Arch your eyes and rasp out loud
Each well loved indecipherable lyric
Get it right, get it wrong
Grin wickedly,wink stupidly
Swig an empty bottle of beer
And cheer for the dead man.
Assume your classiest swagger
Light the wrong end of a joint
Spin thrice
Let out that electric yell
the sexiest ever (or so you think!)
Grab a cool black cap,or spotted red bandana
and jump lionlike
feet curved, hair flying wildly
crashland on immaculate glass coffee table.
Shrug heroically, glare petulantly
Relinquish guitar and grab drumsticks
Roll in stomach, stiffen knees and
let wrists go wild...
Cock your head and holler huskily
"are you with me tonight?"
Of course I am.
As soon as I can straighten up!
And who needs laughter therapy, when I've got you?
And just in case I'm dreaming, don't you dare wake me up.
Wednesday, February 22
Whats a sweetheart like you, doing in a dump like this?
No matter what she says
In that hauntingly beautiful voice
No matter how good she looks
Remember your spoilt for choice.
No matter the heady perfume
No matter the dimly lit room
No matter the sparkling talk
And the romantic woodland walk
Skip the mistletoe
Step on her petite toe
Ignore the soft touch
And that crazy look
You crave so much.
Sip the wine real slow
Turn the music low
Can the inevitable be stalled?
Pray your mother calls.
Damn the wine
Damn her irresistable line
"I want you"
Sweet stubborn jesus
Of course I do too.
Red on her lips
Red in your heartbeat
Red in the air
Red on the sheets.
Its an old trick
Slip out quick
Savour the warmth though
For only you know
What it did for you.
Lying again.
It didn't happen.
I turned her away.
And even her soft tears
and my beating heart
moved me not.
I did not let her stay.
Don't believe me do you?
Neither do I.
In that hauntingly beautiful voice
No matter how good she looks
Remember your spoilt for choice.
No matter the heady perfume
No matter the dimly lit room
No matter the sparkling talk
And the romantic woodland walk
Skip the mistletoe
Step on her petite toe
Ignore the soft touch
And that crazy look
You crave so much.
Sip the wine real slow
Turn the music low
Can the inevitable be stalled?
Pray your mother calls.
Damn the wine
Damn her irresistable line
"I want you"
Sweet stubborn jesus
Of course I do too.
Red on her lips
Red in your heartbeat
Red in the air
Red on the sheets.
Its an old trick
Slip out quick
Savour the warmth though
For only you know
What it did for you.
Lying again.
It didn't happen.
I turned her away.
And even her soft tears
and my beating heart
moved me not.
I did not let her stay.
Don't believe me do you?
Neither do I.
Tuesday, February 21
Grazed knees and more
It was me wasn't it?
I got it so wrong.
Read you upside down
When you came on so strong.
Yes, it was me
Who did it all wrong
Held on so tight
It wouldn't be long
Before you would have to flee
Or frown and politely
Renounce me.
And I made you lose a tooth
trying to chew the hard truth
Or was it in fact a tasty treat
fitfully flavoured, fragrant meat?
I'm sorry I made you lose your appetite
And left you feeling sad and proud
to be back on that sorry diet.
And if you'd only warned me
And helped me see
Perhaps I could have
Done it differently.
And if I'd known, all you ever wanted
Was a piece of my brain
We could have plotted all night
to keep away the rain.
Or if I'd learnt better
How to romp randomly
and never let it bother me
I could have pleased you
and never abused you
And all I really wanted to say
Was that
Would you forgive me please
and love me just a little
If I got down on my knees?
I got it so wrong.
Read you upside down
When you came on so strong.
Yes, it was me
Who did it all wrong
Held on so tight
It wouldn't be long
Before you would have to flee
Or frown and politely
Renounce me.
And I made you lose a tooth
trying to chew the hard truth
Or was it in fact a tasty treat
fitfully flavoured, fragrant meat?
I'm sorry I made you lose your appetite
And left you feeling sad and proud
to be back on that sorry diet.
And if you'd only warned me
And helped me see
Perhaps I could have
Done it differently.
And if I'd known, all you ever wanted
Was a piece of my brain
We could have plotted all night
to keep away the rain.
Or if I'd learnt better
How to romp randomly
and never let it bother me
I could have pleased you
and never abused you
And all I really wanted to say
Was that
Would you forgive me please
and love me just a little
If I got down on my knees?
You
You
were the soup on my tray
You
were the spark in my gray
You
were my toss in the hay
You
were the smile in my day.
Your words so quaint and funny
Could melt my rage to pulp
Your thoughts like wet wild honey
I drank in thirsty gulps.
"and so I'll continue to continue to pretend
my life will never end, and flowers never bend
with the rainfall.."
And isn't it true
that you reached out for me
caressed my cheek
and lent me a small slice of you?
And we walked the green awhile
And you forgot your troubles too?
"Can analysis be worthwhile
is the theater really dead?"
And in the end
No lies, no labels
Who would have thought
You'd be so predictable!
And luckily for you
I turned out that way too.
were the soup on my tray
You
were the spark in my gray
You
were my toss in the hay
You
were the smile in my day.
Your words so quaint and funny
Could melt my rage to pulp
Your thoughts like wet wild honey
I drank in thirsty gulps.
"and so I'll continue to continue to pretend
my life will never end, and flowers never bend
with the rainfall.."
And isn't it true
that you reached out for me
caressed my cheek
and lent me a small slice of you?
And we walked the green awhile
And you forgot your troubles too?
"Can analysis be worthwhile
is the theater really dead?"
And in the end
No lies, no labels
Who would have thought
You'd be so predictable!
And luckily for you
I turned out that way too.
Monday, February 20
Lovesong you say- no, just another day
And we thought one day
we would fly together
Climb a tall mountain
Collapse at the summit
Gasping for breath
Drinking in the world around
In all its mighty splendour.
Fight over a chocolate bar
and snuggle up tight
to beat the biting cold
outside and inside us.
And we thought we could be alone
and wander the meadows
and dreamlike deserts
Scour the seabed for corals
Race down ravines
Comb the caves for hidden treasure
Call the sky our own
And on a misty winter morn
Go seeking each other
With a bagful of stories
A head full of pictures
And a heart full of passion
And we thought we could live for ourselves
And no other
And never have to be together
to feel each other, see each other
taste, touch, torment
or even smile together.
We never will.
Just like we will never
Curl up on a couch and
watch a movie together
except in our minds?
Never do laundry together
Never cook a meal together
Or brush our teeth together
But we always will
Hold each other
When we cry
Beat each other when we lie
Kiss each other as we sigh
Worlds away
There to stay
The price we pay
to never betray
Who we really are.
And perhaps on one magic day
When the world stands still
And we are each truly alone
As we always wanted to be
We will wake up and have coffee together.
Senselessly strong, scorching
Silent, soothing coffee.
Together.
Yes, together.
we would fly together
Climb a tall mountain
Collapse at the summit
Gasping for breath
Drinking in the world around
In all its mighty splendour.
Fight over a chocolate bar
and snuggle up tight
to beat the biting cold
outside and inside us.
And we thought we could be alone
and wander the meadows
and dreamlike deserts
Scour the seabed for corals
Race down ravines
Comb the caves for hidden treasure
Call the sky our own
And on a misty winter morn
Go seeking each other
With a bagful of stories
A head full of pictures
And a heart full of passion
And we thought we could live for ourselves
And no other
And never have to be together
to feel each other, see each other
taste, touch, torment
or even smile together.
We never will.
Just like we will never
Curl up on a couch and
watch a movie together
except in our minds?
Never do laundry together
Never cook a meal together
Or brush our teeth together
But we always will
Hold each other
When we cry
Beat each other when we lie
Kiss each other as we sigh
Worlds away
There to stay
The price we pay
to never betray
Who we really are.
And perhaps on one magic day
When the world stands still
And we are each truly alone
As we always wanted to be
We will wake up and have coffee together.
Senselessly strong, scorching
Silent, soothing coffee.
Together.
Yes, together.
Sunday, February 19
Saturday, February 18
Goo Goo g' Joob
And did you really think that I was kind and true?
and that just because you touched me
I'd be bound to you?
Just because we laughed together, and you fed me pie
did you think I'd always crave you or never make you cry?
And just because we talked all day
did you think I'd never go away?
And just because you made me beam
you thought you'd ride my ship of dreams?
So listen up and listen good
I held you because you smelt nice
I kissed you because it felt nice
I calmed you because it felt wise
I wrecked you - to shield my own disguise.
And just because you teased me
Did you think I would desert you?
And just because you hugged me
That I'd see the world anew?
And because you gave yourself to me
your trust and torment too
Did you think I'd never let you fall
and be there just for you?
And just because we played in tune
so warm and close together
That one lost night could never make you
claim from me another.
So fly away my precious moth and find your perfect flame
Turn it into flesh and blood, that you can scar and maim.
I have chores to fret about, and many mouths to feed
Hurting never bothered me, money's what I need.
Know that you can never make me toss and turn and cry
Remember you were never here and it was just a lie.
So fare thee well and be on time
to catch that magic bus
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus.
and that just because you touched me
I'd be bound to you?
Just because we laughed together, and you fed me pie
did you think I'd always crave you or never make you cry?
And just because we talked all day
did you think I'd never go away?
And just because you made me beam
you thought you'd ride my ship of dreams?
So listen up and listen good
I held you because you smelt nice
I kissed you because it felt nice
I calmed you because it felt wise
I wrecked you - to shield my own disguise.
And just because you teased me
Did you think I would desert you?
And just because you hugged me
That I'd see the world anew?
And because you gave yourself to me
your trust and torment too
Did you think I'd never let you fall
and be there just for you?
And just because we played in tune
so warm and close together
That one lost night could never make you
claim from me another.
So fly away my precious moth and find your perfect flame
Turn it into flesh and blood, that you can scar and maim.
I have chores to fret about, and many mouths to feed
Hurting never bothered me, money's what I need.
Know that you can never make me toss and turn and cry
Remember you were never here and it was just a lie.
So fare thee well and be on time
to catch that magic bus
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus.
Friday, February 17
Yet another silly lovesong
Stay awhile and talk to me, won't you?
Even if we've said it all before.
Stay awhile and walk with me, can't you?
Even if your feet won't move anymore.
Speak to me of queens and knights
Of battles fought and blazing lights
Just like you used to?
Speak to me of far off lands
and soothe me with your tired hands
Won't you?
And now, lie back on this quiet morn
And dream of yet another dawn
Let me calm your restless soul
And hold you, shield you, keep you whole.
Let us step another mile
So won't you please stay on awhile?
Even if we've said it all before.
Stay awhile and walk with me, can't you?
Even if your feet won't move anymore.
Speak to me of queens and knights
Of battles fought and blazing lights
Just like you used to?
Speak to me of far off lands
and soothe me with your tired hands
Won't you?
And now, lie back on this quiet morn
And dream of yet another dawn
Let me calm your restless soul
And hold you, shield you, keep you whole.
Let us step another mile
So won't you please stay on awhile?
Burst that bubble now
Speeding down route 66. Desertland, pickup trucks, diners and desolation.
Brave blue California sky, soft pink mountains slurring into the distance, ignoring the prickly cacti that awkwardly abound the yellow wasteland.
Break off a tiny piece of one-5mm perhaps-and its enough to burst a carefully preserved bubble- that was feeding on your dreams (and starting to resemble something in desperate need of the south beach diet).
I'd always thought bubbles were meant to be these awfully pretty, delicate, transparent , magic balls that you kiss with your breath and make fly till they collect every colour of the rainbow- just to make you smile.
I feel like a child when I make bubbles and I want more and more. Make them float all around me as I spin in delight chasing one and sticking my tongue out at another. Wasn't there always one though, which was special? Just a little bigger, better or just different perhaps, now drifting close, catching your eye and then naughtily gliding out of reach or proudly proclaiming its power over you?
Popeye's chicken and biscuits staring in my face. Highway country, Ronald Mcdonald grinning all over his painted face, ugly yellow hair you can never forget.
Another mile, another freeway, another bubble. Searching the horizon for that special one that played tricks with your mind and threatened to envelop you in its fragile beauty.
Hard brown rock coated in soft crumbly mud, racing by. Still smoky clouds sunbathing above a purple hill in the distance, careful not to get too close.
And I can see that bubble stalking me, mocking me. Prick me if you dare!. Hold me if you care. I'll break you I swear.
Closer now, I can feel its warm wet breath choking my senses till its sweetness makes me want to breathe no more..
The sun fades into the burning sky and I struggle to break free. Caged rigid in that symmetrical glassy bowl of light, paralysed by that monstrous beauty of my own creation. Tightening its iron grip now as I watch in fascinated horror. Where are all those safety pins when you need them?
Shut your eyes, surrender and pray for a miracle.
And it comes. One keen raindrop shooting through the icy stillness, from far above. Piercing the heart of a bubble caught unawares.
Soapsuds on my face. Gulp in a ton of fresh air. Sob in relief and dig my feet into the ground.
Another day, another time, same world.
And somewhere another crazy bubble is being born. Run!
Brave blue California sky, soft pink mountains slurring into the distance, ignoring the prickly cacti that awkwardly abound the yellow wasteland.
Break off a tiny piece of one-5mm perhaps-and its enough to burst a carefully preserved bubble- that was feeding on your dreams (and starting to resemble something in desperate need of the south beach diet).
I'd always thought bubbles were meant to be these awfully pretty, delicate, transparent , magic balls that you kiss with your breath and make fly till they collect every colour of the rainbow- just to make you smile.
I feel like a child when I make bubbles and I want more and more. Make them float all around me as I spin in delight chasing one and sticking my tongue out at another. Wasn't there always one though, which was special? Just a little bigger, better or just different perhaps, now drifting close, catching your eye and then naughtily gliding out of reach or proudly proclaiming its power over you?
Popeye's chicken and biscuits staring in my face. Highway country, Ronald Mcdonald grinning all over his painted face, ugly yellow hair you can never forget.
Another mile, another freeway, another bubble. Searching the horizon for that special one that played tricks with your mind and threatened to envelop you in its fragile beauty.
Hard brown rock coated in soft crumbly mud, racing by. Still smoky clouds sunbathing above a purple hill in the distance, careful not to get too close.
And I can see that bubble stalking me, mocking me. Prick me if you dare!. Hold me if you care. I'll break you I swear.
Closer now, I can feel its warm wet breath choking my senses till its sweetness makes me want to breathe no more..
The sun fades into the burning sky and I struggle to break free. Caged rigid in that symmetrical glassy bowl of light, paralysed by that monstrous beauty of my own creation. Tightening its iron grip now as I watch in fascinated horror. Where are all those safety pins when you need them?
Shut your eyes, surrender and pray for a miracle.
And it comes. One keen raindrop shooting through the icy stillness, from far above. Piercing the heart of a bubble caught unawares.
Soapsuds on my face. Gulp in a ton of fresh air. Sob in relief and dig my feet into the ground.
Another day, another time, same world.
And somewhere another crazy bubble is being born. Run!
We
You know
And I know
But they don't.
You can
And I can't
But they don't.
I will
And you won't
But they can't.
I cry
And you try
But they won't.
You could
And I would
But they should.
You thought
And I fought
I lied
And you sighed
You smiled
And I riled
And we know
What we don't
What we won't
And they don't.
And I know
But they don't.
You can
And I can't
But they don't.
I will
And you won't
But they can't.
I cry
And you try
But they won't.
You could
And I would
But they should.
You thought
And I fought
I lied
And you sighed
You smiled
And I riled
And we know
What we don't
What we won't
And they don't.
Chuckle
You don't want me
You don't need me
You don't care
I want you
I need you
I care.
Tell me I'm wrong if you dare.
You don't need me
You don't care
I want you
I need you
I care.
Tell me I'm wrong if you dare.
Thursday, February 16
Vegas on Valentine's
Now why didn't you think of that one before? Full marks to all those who did.
Walked into world famous hotel and laughed non stop for nineteen minutes!
Nothing prepares you for this freak fantasyland in the nothingness of a numb Nevada desert.
No one comes here alone though. (No marks to me for that one, only raised eyebrows).Its a heady, romantic , raunchy 'people' place, so pick up someone quick, if you want to do it right. Sex, dope and rock n roll ain't dead yet, just the rules have changed.
Walk the 'strip' in wonder, click the mammoth Coca Cola bottle and freeze Venetia in a frame that looks much too pristine, while Ceasar's serfs look on. Crane your neck to glimpse that E tower rubbing shoulders with the fleshy green libertine holding the lamp aloft to an already dazzled sky. Tourists in every shape size and colour throng the boulevards, frazzled feet, smelling sweet with giant size holes in their pockets that keep getting bigger as the city thickens its waistline.
I'm hungry- seafood burrito or a steak in that all American diner? Settle for the sirloin, give up halfway through and exit with giant pickled cucumber for dessert.
Everyone's happy in Vegas, me included,albeit for a few days. Seduced by the glitz, the sheer scale of things, crazy kitsch, casual chic,bluster of neon, wine women song and the lure of wealth. Who could ever resist bright lights and the smell of money?
No one's real here, though -they just float through the fakeness like I did, racing over Brooklyn bridge, wind in my face, Springsteen in my ears. One casino melting into another, the jangling tune of gaming machines and shouts of triumph from the poker table. Who remembers the men who made Vegas -Bugsy, Lansky, Hughes etc and all the blood,hustle and darkness behind the sequinned curtains?
Perhaps Jon the craps dealer at the Excalibur casino (who claimed he used to do interiors for the mafia) remembers. He talks about how in the old days you would be sacked if you lost money at your table, and flashes a gold tooth smile at the suave millionaire in carefully casual clothes with every wrinkle in the right place, who keeps tipping him generously.
Big woman with even bigger cleavage in bright red gown totters out of Jester's Lounge on three inch high unintelligible shoes, and spills her elegant margarita on smug tuxedo'd partner, squealing coyly. Naked man in blonde wig runs around with bunch of balloons and poster on back saying 'I'm 53 today, save me'. Lady in posh black Armani gown with expensive hair and inch thick diamond bracelet beckons the eager (for huge tip) waiter with an imperceptible nod of her pale head, for yet another priceless bottle of bubbly. I suddenly feel like a tramp in jeans and dirty boots.
Resolve to comb hair, scrub face and smell like a million dollars before the night is out.
Waylaid by roulette table I lasted 3 hours with chips worth twenty bucks, tripled my gains twice and then lost steadily as the two beers and three wines started talking. Damn, and I thought the only reason I came here was to make money!
Watching grizzly old women staring hopefully at fruity slot machines whirring away their savings, keen eyed chinese gamblers killing the competition, podgy legged waitresses in naughty skirts... . Businessman in smart black suit next to me threw in a few hundreds on my behalf which I politely declined, he insisted, betted and lost it all, smiled benignly at me and started a conversation. Never lock eyes with a smooth bald man, no matter how deceptively simple he looks. They're dreaming of jumping into bed with you before you can say 'forget it buddy'.
Exit roulette table. Made mental note to master blackjack before next visit. Leaves you no time for conversation. Besides, the hunks seem to be headed that way.
Get some fresh air first. Man in gold suit and rastafarian locks scrubbing gleaming white stretch limo, chatting up kid in black hood from North Carolina. Edged closer to decipher thick accent and guess what, they're talkin about their mothers for chrissakes- what happened to the mafia tales?
Woman in rasping voice announces' get that jackpot before your mother in law does- and gives you hell for it after'. Stench of high stakes and big money. Intoxicating. Well, almost. Give me a tall bottle of Gucci 'envy' anyday or better still some fresh green cilantro. Wow, did I really mean that?
Cursing myself for not knowing Spanish. Everyone thinks I'm Mexican around here. Cool Latino dude regales neighbours with tales of purple women he laid. Hits on me gratuitously, loves my hair and insists on knowing if I'm married. Fob him of with a bunch of lies and then wonder if I did the right thing. Console myself thinking he wasn't wearing the right shoes and that hat was a trifle too gauche for my taste.
Walk off your losses. Walk into Starbucks for a caramel apple cider. Can still smell it somehow.
'It won't do, to dream of caramel, think of cinnamon and long for you' (Suzanne Vega)
See tireless escalators carrying frozen people into paradise and huge screens in frenzied competition to lure you into snazzily choreographed shows. How many topless women can you handle at one shot? Give your eye (and other) muscles a rest, take a break and hit the spa.
Cool blue after all that roaring red. Another ripoff. What a riot. Still raring to go you raving renegade? Ride the wave. Roll on...
and take me with you next time.
Walked into world famous hotel and laughed non stop for nineteen minutes!
Nothing prepares you for this freak fantasyland in the nothingness of a numb Nevada desert.
No one comes here alone though. (No marks to me for that one, only raised eyebrows).Its a heady, romantic , raunchy 'people' place, so pick up someone quick, if you want to do it right. Sex, dope and rock n roll ain't dead yet, just the rules have changed.
Walk the 'strip' in wonder, click the mammoth Coca Cola bottle and freeze Venetia in a frame that looks much too pristine, while Ceasar's serfs look on. Crane your neck to glimpse that E tower rubbing shoulders with the fleshy green libertine holding the lamp aloft to an already dazzled sky. Tourists in every shape size and colour throng the boulevards, frazzled feet, smelling sweet with giant size holes in their pockets that keep getting bigger as the city thickens its waistline.
I'm hungry- seafood burrito or a steak in that all American diner? Settle for the sirloin, give up halfway through and exit with giant pickled cucumber for dessert.
Everyone's happy in Vegas, me included,albeit for a few days. Seduced by the glitz, the sheer scale of things, crazy kitsch, casual chic,bluster of neon, wine women song and the lure of wealth. Who could ever resist bright lights and the smell of money?
No one's real here, though -they just float through the fakeness like I did, racing over Brooklyn bridge, wind in my face, Springsteen in my ears. One casino melting into another, the jangling tune of gaming machines and shouts of triumph from the poker table. Who remembers the men who made Vegas -Bugsy, Lansky, Hughes etc and all the blood,hustle and darkness behind the sequinned curtains?
Perhaps Jon the craps dealer at the Excalibur casino (who claimed he used to do interiors for the mafia) remembers. He talks about how in the old days you would be sacked if you lost money at your table, and flashes a gold tooth smile at the suave millionaire in carefully casual clothes with every wrinkle in the right place, who keeps tipping him generously.
Big woman with even bigger cleavage in bright red gown totters out of Jester's Lounge on three inch high unintelligible shoes, and spills her elegant margarita on smug tuxedo'd partner, squealing coyly. Naked man in blonde wig runs around with bunch of balloons and poster on back saying 'I'm 53 today, save me'. Lady in posh black Armani gown with expensive hair and inch thick diamond bracelet beckons the eager (for huge tip) waiter with an imperceptible nod of her pale head, for yet another priceless bottle of bubbly. I suddenly feel like a tramp in jeans and dirty boots.
Resolve to comb hair, scrub face and smell like a million dollars before the night is out.
Waylaid by roulette table I lasted 3 hours with chips worth twenty bucks, tripled my gains twice and then lost steadily as the two beers and three wines started talking. Damn, and I thought the only reason I came here was to make money!
Watching grizzly old women staring hopefully at fruity slot machines whirring away their savings, keen eyed chinese gamblers killing the competition, podgy legged waitresses in naughty skirts... . Businessman in smart black suit next to me threw in a few hundreds on my behalf which I politely declined, he insisted, betted and lost it all, smiled benignly at me and started a conversation. Never lock eyes with a smooth bald man, no matter how deceptively simple he looks. They're dreaming of jumping into bed with you before you can say 'forget it buddy'.
Exit roulette table. Made mental note to master blackjack before next visit. Leaves you no time for conversation. Besides, the hunks seem to be headed that way.
Get some fresh air first. Man in gold suit and rastafarian locks scrubbing gleaming white stretch limo, chatting up kid in black hood from North Carolina. Edged closer to decipher thick accent and guess what, they're talkin about their mothers for chrissakes- what happened to the mafia tales?
Woman in rasping voice announces' get that jackpot before your mother in law does- and gives you hell for it after'. Stench of high stakes and big money. Intoxicating. Well, almost. Give me a tall bottle of Gucci 'envy' anyday or better still some fresh green cilantro. Wow, did I really mean that?
Cursing myself for not knowing Spanish. Everyone thinks I'm Mexican around here. Cool Latino dude regales neighbours with tales of purple women he laid. Hits on me gratuitously, loves my hair and insists on knowing if I'm married. Fob him of with a bunch of lies and then wonder if I did the right thing. Console myself thinking he wasn't wearing the right shoes and that hat was a trifle too gauche for my taste.
Walk off your losses. Walk into Starbucks for a caramel apple cider. Can still smell it somehow.
'It won't do, to dream of caramel, think of cinnamon and long for you' (Suzanne Vega)
See tireless escalators carrying frozen people into paradise and huge screens in frenzied competition to lure you into snazzily choreographed shows. How many topless women can you handle at one shot? Give your eye (and other) muscles a rest, take a break and hit the spa.
Cool blue after all that roaring red. Another ripoff. What a riot. Still raring to go you raving renegade? Ride the wave. Roll on...
and take me with you next time.
Blame you for the moonlit sky
And we never really did understand poetry did we? Not even our own.
Thats the point of it all.
I'm a bad dream.
The world is a movie we're trying to make.
We all get hiccups, some of us more often than others.
They're not here, only I am.
It'll always be that way.
Ghosts like their own space, just like I do.
Right here, right now, eardrums buzzing, wine trembling gently, one half curved smile
I've grown up- yippee!
Thats the point of it all.
I'm a bad dream.
The world is a movie we're trying to make.
We all get hiccups, some of us more often than others.
They're not here, only I am.
It'll always be that way.
Ghosts like their own space, just like I do.
Right here, right now, eardrums buzzing, wine trembling gently, one half curved smile
I've grown up- yippee!
Live!
Everyone's lonely, everyones' screwed. So what's the big deal about that?
Some people know it, some don't. If this plane crashes right now I'll really know whether it matters at all or not.
When we're 16, we call it love
When we're 26 we like to call it lust
When we're 36 we can still believe its somewhere in between
When we're 46- someone enlighten me please
When we're 56, we don't have a clue anymore!
66 - hopefully it gets better
76 - yes, yes, yes!
86 - hope we don't drop dead just when its all coming together
96 - keep breathing.
Valentines or not, keep loving till it all falls of.
Some people know it, some don't. If this plane crashes right now I'll really know whether it matters at all or not.
When we're 16, we call it love
When we're 26 we like to call it lust
When we're 36 we can still believe its somewhere in between
When we're 46- someone enlighten me please
When we're 56, we don't have a clue anymore!
66 - hopefully it gets better
76 - yes, yes, yes!
86 - hope we don't drop dead just when its all coming together
96 - keep breathing.
Valentines or not, keep loving till it all falls of.
Friday, February 10
Eyes wide shut
You were going to leave last night, weren't you?
Like a million other nights before that, like a million other moments when you thought you could just look away, take a deep breath and run.
So why didn't you?
Was it that smooth single malt matured for eighteen years, that we'd been saving for a special night or my perfectly prepared putanesca, or just the cosy couch which so loves to be molested by you?
It wasn't the music I know. You never thought Dylan was a singer anyway, although he did write some decent poetry.
And it wasn't the view - you hate darkness and half a moon and a slumbering world.
I had packed your things you know,listed everything precisely, you needn't have worried about leaving anything behind- nothing important,that is.
I had promised to ship you the Kandinsky prints and all your favourite bric a brac later.
Didn't you believe me?
Didn't you believe me when I said I'd be OK?
That its the only way to do it, with a smile and a polite hug?
What would have been the point of smashing all that expensive crystal and the precious curios collected from far flung bits of the world, traversed hand in hand?
Or flinging poisoned barbs at each other and revelling in the hurting game, just because you know where it hurts the most- or did we really know, after all these years?
I believed you when you said we'd be friends. So much simpler. Like half a litre of water in that single malt. Safe too. Almost exemplary.
Yes we were smart. Spared ourselves the protracted hangover, the needless trauma, the necessary melodrama, even the clean-up job after the chaos and cuts.
Watched our favourite movie, gorged on gooey chocolate mousse with extra whipped cream, honey and nuts and sipped the cognac composedly.
Numbed steady eyes. No conflict. No hysteria.
Everything is exactly as it should be. The walls are the same colour. The cat smells the same. Even the window opens out the same way and the toaster- you know it won't work till you slap it around a bit.
Only the moon outside has disappeared. You didn't notice did you?
Can I get you those soft bedroom slippers and some camomile tea? Its late you know.
I know you said you'll leave at daybreak, should I book a cab perhaps?
Or wouldn't you rather get a good nights sleep and leave after your usual dose of strong java, and maybe that Monday morning dimsum breakfast, like always? Oh, and I did remember to buy that seafood flavoured soy sauce you can't do without.
Hey, can't you sleep on your side of the bed and leave me more than just a few inches of the duvet? That means I've got to be all over you to get warm and we're not supposed to do that anymore- take each other for granted.
Will have to tug hard at the duvet or go looking for that ancient hot water bottle. Why is it freezing in here, now?
How about if I sit up and watch a movie all night while you dream of a hassle free tomorrow, and we can both be ourselves in the morning and pretend its just another day and we're going to work and we'll be back that evening, cursing the rest of the world and looking forward to-
coming home?
Took the Kandinskys off the walls, moved the couch, dumped the toaster, drained the cognac and gave the cat away.
Moon's back in full form.
Can't seem to open that window though. It used to be so easy! Push it, kick it, beat it. No luck.
Guess, some things will change.
You've just got to take the good with the bad thats all.
Wish I knew which was which though.
Like a million other nights before that, like a million other moments when you thought you could just look away, take a deep breath and run.
So why didn't you?
Was it that smooth single malt matured for eighteen years, that we'd been saving for a special night or my perfectly prepared putanesca, or just the cosy couch which so loves to be molested by you?
It wasn't the music I know. You never thought Dylan was a singer anyway, although he did write some decent poetry.
And it wasn't the view - you hate darkness and half a moon and a slumbering world.
I had packed your things you know,listed everything precisely, you needn't have worried about leaving anything behind- nothing important,that is.
I had promised to ship you the Kandinsky prints and all your favourite bric a brac later.
Didn't you believe me?
Didn't you believe me when I said I'd be OK?
That its the only way to do it, with a smile and a polite hug?
What would have been the point of smashing all that expensive crystal and the precious curios collected from far flung bits of the world, traversed hand in hand?
Or flinging poisoned barbs at each other and revelling in the hurting game, just because you know where it hurts the most- or did we really know, after all these years?
I believed you when you said we'd be friends. So much simpler. Like half a litre of water in that single malt. Safe too. Almost exemplary.
Yes we were smart. Spared ourselves the protracted hangover, the needless trauma, the necessary melodrama, even the clean-up job after the chaos and cuts.
Watched our favourite movie, gorged on gooey chocolate mousse with extra whipped cream, honey and nuts and sipped the cognac composedly.
Numbed steady eyes. No conflict. No hysteria.
Everything is exactly as it should be. The walls are the same colour. The cat smells the same. Even the window opens out the same way and the toaster- you know it won't work till you slap it around a bit.
Only the moon outside has disappeared. You didn't notice did you?
Can I get you those soft bedroom slippers and some camomile tea? Its late you know.
I know you said you'll leave at daybreak, should I book a cab perhaps?
Or wouldn't you rather get a good nights sleep and leave after your usual dose of strong java, and maybe that Monday morning dimsum breakfast, like always? Oh, and I did remember to buy that seafood flavoured soy sauce you can't do without.
Hey, can't you sleep on your side of the bed and leave me more than just a few inches of the duvet? That means I've got to be all over you to get warm and we're not supposed to do that anymore- take each other for granted.
Will have to tug hard at the duvet or go looking for that ancient hot water bottle. Why is it freezing in here, now?
How about if I sit up and watch a movie all night while you dream of a hassle free tomorrow, and we can both be ourselves in the morning and pretend its just another day and we're going to work and we'll be back that evening, cursing the rest of the world and looking forward to-
coming home?
Took the Kandinskys off the walls, moved the couch, dumped the toaster, drained the cognac and gave the cat away.
Moon's back in full form.
Can't seem to open that window though. It used to be so easy! Push it, kick it, beat it. No luck.
Guess, some things will change.
You've just got to take the good with the bad thats all.
Wish I knew which was which though.
Split wide open
Yes of course I'm inordinately fond of you.
And your dying to know why. Thats not really important though, is it?
And of course I'm a vastly (in?)dispensable source of amusement for you. One could presume even a lazy distant sort of affection sparked by an occasional stray thought or a clever line that arouses-
curiosity? surprise? respect? revulsion?
For someone not quite real,not quite true, not all there, yet not all square either.
Smile uncomfortably at the thought of that autumn leaf falling slowly,scorched orange, blistered by a bored sun which had nothing better to do.
Feel fabulous because the virgin dewdrops touched your naked feet,
and for a while your mind stopped dissecting-
their transparent torsos to the point where you yourself needed to scream.
Nothing is perfect. Especially not you.
Sometimes that beautiful mind shuts down and those sharp eyes cloud with doubt and that meticulous heartbeat loses its confident rhythm and races fruitlessly for shelter in a stormbound desert.
But me, what about me? Aren't I perfect?
Right down to that blue vein you couldn't see? And yet, you wouldn't let yourself believe that. Tch, tch tch.
Why?
No reason.
Perhaps because I am inordinately fond of you.
Or you fear that I'm not?
Will laugh myself to sleep now.
And your dying to know why. Thats not really important though, is it?
And of course I'm a vastly (in?)dispensable source of amusement for you. One could presume even a lazy distant sort of affection sparked by an occasional stray thought or a clever line that arouses-
curiosity? surprise? respect? revulsion?
For someone not quite real,not quite true, not all there, yet not all square either.
Smile uncomfortably at the thought of that autumn leaf falling slowly,scorched orange, blistered by a bored sun which had nothing better to do.
Feel fabulous because the virgin dewdrops touched your naked feet,
and for a while your mind stopped dissecting-
their transparent torsos to the point where you yourself needed to scream.
Nothing is perfect. Especially not you.
Sometimes that beautiful mind shuts down and those sharp eyes cloud with doubt and that meticulous heartbeat loses its confident rhythm and races fruitlessly for shelter in a stormbound desert.
But me, what about me? Aren't I perfect?
Right down to that blue vein you couldn't see? And yet, you wouldn't let yourself believe that. Tch, tch tch.
Why?
No reason.
Perhaps because I am inordinately fond of you.
Or you fear that I'm not?
Will laugh myself to sleep now.
Dinner
"Come away with me in the night..."
On second thought, don't even think about it.
I have big fangs, shifty eyes, a crooked nose and huge ears.
And even if you thought I can write poetry and sing like a nightingale, you'd feel those lard lined tyres (even if I blindfolded you and iced your fingertips)
and the wrinkled forehead (one hopes you'd get there eventually),
and the hairy bits even the darkness won't hide.
So don't think twice, its all right.
You have stars in your eyes and wings of a dove. I would hate to disappoint you, or leave a bad taste in your mouth, my sweet.
But do stay a little while longer. Perhaps we could dance and share a cherry cavendish high?
Oh, but I didn't tell you did I, that I have strong steel arms and razor keen broken teeth - all the better to eat you with, slowly, surely - a mouthful at a time.
And of course, I promise I won't nibble.
On second thought, don't even think about it.
I have big fangs, shifty eyes, a crooked nose and huge ears.
And even if you thought I can write poetry and sing like a nightingale, you'd feel those lard lined tyres (even if I blindfolded you and iced your fingertips)
and the wrinkled forehead (one hopes you'd get there eventually),
and the hairy bits even the darkness won't hide.
So don't think twice, its all right.
You have stars in your eyes and wings of a dove. I would hate to disappoint you, or leave a bad taste in your mouth, my sweet.
But do stay a little while longer. Perhaps we could dance and share a cherry cavendish high?
Oh, but I didn't tell you did I, that I have strong steel arms and razor keen broken teeth - all the better to eat you with, slowly, surely - a mouthful at a time.
And of course, I promise I won't nibble.
Wednesday, February 8
Park It
Bare trees. Hugging each other silently. Praying for sun.
One green lamppost curling over to wink sexily at a welcome blue sky. Scattered brown leaves knowingly ripped by a gust of playful wind.
Capture that moment of fragility on film.
Capture the frail old man huddled in a corner, head down, hoping for a coin or two from well muffled fat cheeked strangers sauntering by with well fed dogs on a leash, that flash him a triumphant look as they trot by -clean white doggy bodies in orange jumpers.
Beautiful morning really.
Strutting around in Central Park to Bach's Air on a G string on headphones. Watching determined joggers in crimson shorts, cyclists in electric blue helmets streaking by,patient mothers proudly heaving baby buggies up the slopes, mooching couples disentangling only to chase a spot of elusive sun, and...a solitary woman in a long black coat,dark hair windblown, looking straight at you- unblinking, unfazed,unanswered.
Yesterday's smile still lingering somewhere behind the smooth pale cheeks, and tomorrow's tragedies lurking in that steady line of gray smoke curling off the tip of a long white cigarette in delicately trembling ruby encrusted fingers.
Minus three degrees windchill. No snow yet. Welcome smell of a juicy hot dog wafting on a slow breeze. The blue pen drops from my freezing fingers. Tip of nose red and numb like hell. Fish out neon green gloves quickly!
Black man passes by."Would you be so kind as to lend me a dollar?" Stare straight back and say, "actually sir, I was thinking of asking you the same." Disappears less politely than he had appeared.
White man appears. "Got a cigarette for a stranger?" Smile apologetically and say, "sorry, down to my last one". He nods sympathetically and walks on cursing softly.
Time for a double shot espresso.
Time for a telephone call.
Time for another shot at life.
Someone tell her to get off that park bench and stub that damned cigarette out.
One green lamppost curling over to wink sexily at a welcome blue sky. Scattered brown leaves knowingly ripped by a gust of playful wind.
Capture that moment of fragility on film.
Capture the frail old man huddled in a corner, head down, hoping for a coin or two from well muffled fat cheeked strangers sauntering by with well fed dogs on a leash, that flash him a triumphant look as they trot by -clean white doggy bodies in orange jumpers.
Beautiful morning really.
Strutting around in Central Park to Bach's Air on a G string on headphones. Watching determined joggers in crimson shorts, cyclists in electric blue helmets streaking by,patient mothers proudly heaving baby buggies up the slopes, mooching couples disentangling only to chase a spot of elusive sun, and...a solitary woman in a long black coat,dark hair windblown, looking straight at you- unblinking, unfazed,unanswered.
Yesterday's smile still lingering somewhere behind the smooth pale cheeks, and tomorrow's tragedies lurking in that steady line of gray smoke curling off the tip of a long white cigarette in delicately trembling ruby encrusted fingers.
Minus three degrees windchill. No snow yet. Welcome smell of a juicy hot dog wafting on a slow breeze. The blue pen drops from my freezing fingers. Tip of nose red and numb like hell. Fish out neon green gloves quickly!
Black man passes by."Would you be so kind as to lend me a dollar?" Stare straight back and say, "actually sir, I was thinking of asking you the same." Disappears less politely than he had appeared.
White man appears. "Got a cigarette for a stranger?" Smile apologetically and say, "sorry, down to my last one". He nods sympathetically and walks on cursing softly.
Time for a double shot espresso.
Time for a telephone call.
Time for another shot at life.
Someone tell her to get off that park bench and stub that damned cigarette out.
Monday, February 6
Lucky
What flashes through a man's mind when he looks a hungry tiger in the eye?
What flashes through a woman's mind when she's waiting for that strip to turn blue(or not) and doesn't know who's baby it is?
What flashes through a child's mind when he sees his father go mad?
What flashes through a baby's mind when she sees her mother snatch the milk away and never come back?
What, when the harvest goes bad and your house burns down and your spouse deserts you and your child scorns you and your god spurns you?
Do they think of all those happy moments and love and laughter and a beautiful sunset?
Do they think of all the bad times and how it made them stronger?
Do they think of that one thing they always wanted to do and never did or crave the arms of someone they love?
Is it just the searing pain of betrayal,frustration and loss?
Why me? Why now? Why this way? Why? Why?
Do they even think at all?
As they walk into the water with stones in their pockets. Or look up at the blank black sky waiting for the sun to rise again.
Isn't it lucky you and I will never know?
Or will we?
What flashes through a woman's mind when she's waiting for that strip to turn blue(or not) and doesn't know who's baby it is?
What flashes through a child's mind when he sees his father go mad?
What flashes through a baby's mind when she sees her mother snatch the milk away and never come back?
What, when the harvest goes bad and your house burns down and your spouse deserts you and your child scorns you and your god spurns you?
Do they think of all those happy moments and love and laughter and a beautiful sunset?
Do they think of all the bad times and how it made them stronger?
Do they think of that one thing they always wanted to do and never did or crave the arms of someone they love?
Is it just the searing pain of betrayal,frustration and loss?
Why me? Why now? Why this way? Why? Why?
Do they even think at all?
As they walk into the water with stones in their pockets. Or look up at the blank black sky waiting for the sun to rise again.
Isn't it lucky you and I will never know?
Or will we?
Sunday, February 5
Eclipse
Cannot recognise the sky
Blazing pale green
Cannot recognise that sun
I've never seen.
Cannot feel the breeze
that blew away
Cannot hear the birds
that flew away.
Cannot find the key
I threw away
Cannot leave the ghost of yesterday
Cannot mend that page I tore
Cannot recognise me anymore.
Blazing pale green
Cannot recognise that sun
I've never seen.
Cannot feel the breeze
that blew away
Cannot hear the birds
that flew away.
Cannot find the key
I threw away
Cannot leave the ghost of yesterday
Cannot mend that page I tore
Cannot recognise me anymore.
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