Monday, December 17, 2007

Spread the ashes of the colors over this heart of mine.

This heart of mine.

I cut it out,
place it on a sheet of white paper,
on a table,
in the middle of the room.

I take a chair.
I have an ashtray,
a glass of red wine,
an acoustic guitar,
a suitcase of memories,
and a bleeding chest.

This gives me a time line,
to say what I have to say.

[beat]

There are dreams like echoes,

[he's got a Hell of heart, he just might not show it a lot of the time]

faded watercolours,

[that's well and good, but why don't you care about ME?]

pages yellowed with age,

[I know Spring is your favourite time of year x]

dead flowers,
dry earth,
a broken stone,
a lie to one's self.
The most powerful of all.

[beat]

I live my life for you.

[I'm bleeding fast now and dizzy]

[beat]

But I don't know who you are.

[beat]

You drive me,
inspire me,
ignite me,
excite me,

[beat]

but I still don't know who you are.

And that's all I needed to tell you.

[dizzy]

I'm never going to stop trying to find out
who the Hell you really are.

[beat]

I smoke,
drink the wine.

I cry,
open the suitcase,
look through the photos.

I write,
pick up the guitar,
and sing.

Then,
I reach for my heart,
push it back in,
and read the patterns left on the paper.

it says:

Monday, December 10, 2007

When I meet you. Revisited.

I’ve lost count of the times
reality has shifted and faces have faded
and you wake up to a revelation
as dawn tongues you with gold and breath
and that first moment
when you open your eyes
is clarity baby, clarity

and all that you are,
have been
and
can be

is a single moment

and when your mind stretches that far out and each thought within you is but a ripple and you can forgive yourself and everyone else and you can let go of yourself and everyone else and really, the shallows of what we believe to be our lives are exposed under the light of the dream…Damn. It’s hard not to wake up with a smile on your face when you realise that all pain is an illusion and nothing is solid matter and this waking life is no different from the dreams we inhabit in our sleep. The trick is to join it all up, meld the past, the future and the now into a state of ethereal eternity and always live as an objective outsider holding in your hands the strings that appear tangled but which actually lead you further on, a million paths, converging to this point, right now. In your head, as in mine, a thousand voices cast a thousand spells, decisions, split second decisions a chaotic whirlwind of who you are and what you wish to be asks only that you make a choice, make a stand, choose a path and don’t look back, forge your destiny, make your personality clear so that we can all move on and understand each other and more to the point understand you, for how can I judge you if I don’t understand you? I need to know who you are because I need to know if I can CONNECT with you, if I can trust you, and even if I betray you, I need to know you will not betray me.

This is important:

In the End, every one has the capacity to read the mind of everyone else.

It’s just so frightening, that we all deny it.