Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Skywheel.

I'm not too ashamed
to wonder out loud
whether
I'm some sort
of bipolar
sociopath
confused maybe
sick
an arsehole
a coward
a ten time
loser.

Hell,

I can look back
over years
of ideas
and I see
so many close calls
almost made it
out of my control
what if
or could have been
and I wonder
what the moon
was doing
that night
Jan 5, '73
that made it all
so fucking
gut wrenching.

I look back
and nail that
moment
'85
when I came back
alive with possibility
from my first stay
in Japan
and found my family
living
with a vicious
and violent drunk
that set me
on a path
of self loathing
and sorrow.

I look back
and all I see
are dusty roads
covered in half steps
trod on chicken feet
and I don't even
have the urge
to mourn them
anymore
instead what I'll do
is sit outside
on the step
and stare at the sun
and watch the movement
of a butterfly
or a leaf
in the wind
and I'll mimic
the empty night
reflecting the passive
dark of the cold universe
in the cool blue green
windows to my soul.

That's what depression is.

It's a motherfucking
empty
soul
a bottomless gash
in the middle
of your heart

It's giving up Hope.

It's not seeing
the opportunities
which still dance as
fireflies
in the air around you
sparks of belief
in yourself
one last yard
that extra mile
don't let go
you're almost there
steel yourself
remember
remember
remember
fucking remember
you weak as piss bastard
remember those words
which made the sky
a battlefield
which sent the grey clouds
fleeing
a ghostly cavalry
tossing aside silver diamonds
as lost brothers
as the sun rose
in victory
to set the scene
alight with its own blood
its own sacrifice
remember that
remember that and stand again
and do not lay down
until they pry your weapons
Optimism and Hope
from your cold dead
hands and bury you
or burn you
left for dead
a faded charcoal mark
upon the golden
sands.

Remember that
as you stand
again
and again
and again
and again
and laugh at the past
all class
half arsed
laugh at the past as you say

actually,

I have another
idea.

Fuck it,
motheruckers.

I'm not on my feet.

Not by a
mile.

But Hell,
tonight we dance
in the firelight
of tomorrow
tonight we warm ourselves
with the passion
of chance
soar above the ridiculous
rainbow
of impossibility
let's drink the colours
of our dreams
let's
fuck
the holes in the sky
which let the starlight
shine through
and burn our curious fingers
on the desire
for a better life.

I'm alive again
tonight.

And it feels

good, friends.

Oh,baby.

This rollercoaster
can sure
feel
good.

5 comments:

  1. I'll drink to that. In fact, 'Hey, bartender, another round for everyone' x

    ReplyDelete
  2. Im in, Bar tender Hennessy, warm glass.

    sheriff mang, your writing is like my own personal brand of heroin.

    thnx.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ha, it ses 10:31 am

    Its past 3 here in cali..

    Are you still living in Australia?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yep. Still in Australia...wish I was in California. Always wanted to do that west coast drive...

    ReplyDelete
  5. i would trade you places in a heart beat, a walk about would do my head some good..

    but that's my nature, always wanting what someone else has, or like lusting for girls when i get one or two even, i always see another that then looks better..

    chasing broken rainbows.

    sighs *falls over*

    ReplyDelete