Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Print.

The man on the newspaper never lies. He says, it's going to be stressful, This Week, but in reality You and I both know it ain't that bad. I drink My Tea and we have a moment. It's a way to ground yourself. I guess that's what it is. It's not like that Tilted Smiley Moon Face Man truly knows me, but he's a writer and he's spreading The Joy TM so I like to make my eyes listen to him when I've got the time. Besides, he never lies. That's enough for now.

The "letter" hits my desk at 4am. It says it's sorry, and how only I understand. And maybe I do, but I don't feel Anything But Sadness. That all I am is a 4am confessional. A place to run to when everything has failed - or most likely, just Hit The Fan for the night. I think I'm more than that these days. I mean, you should see me in my suit. Besides, I've got enough on my plate. I don't want to be some girl's teddy bear, laying stuffed and vapid on a bed, waiting to comfort when the time for comfort hits, and tossed aside when the Real Thing TM works out how to say sorry with a plate of Hot Food or whatever. I'm Too Tired, Too Busy, Too Close to being Some Type of Happy. Sort your own insanity out. Or let The Twerp. Me? I'm just like everyone else. I'm in a maze, trying to find the lighthouse, and all you Climbers give me are bum steers. It's time to follow my own directions. They've never failed me in The Past. At least, not when I've Truly Listened.

And Home...well, hey, there's the pool to clean, and the cats to feed, and the bookshelf to refill, and there's Good Tucker TM and after I write, I'll sing Trucker's Laments and spend every spare moment worshipping The Witch who made this happen. She who will be gone in less than 6 days, off to Home herself in Paradise. And up there, there'll be a spare room for me if I ever want to visit, and Now, Here, there's a New Family, on top of the Ten, Twenty, Thirty I already have. Those hearts who never let up on me, those hearts who truly need mine as much as I need theirs. And not just at 4am. Family. And the humbling part is, when they lay eyes on me, they see someone worth knowing.

As I walked Home, a tired wreck, I looked down, as I always do.

And found:




beneath my feet. Beside my soles.
And then...

as Good Sailors do

I looked up. Just as the stars were leaning in. To mark their place in History. When Today became Tonight became Yesterday. Great sparkling witnesses, built of change itself. Moments long gone, which have yet to be fully appreciated. Tiny flickering specks which hide masses of flaming and freezing fire. These are the bright and brilliant contradictions which give the stars their magic. These are the Tralfalmadorian Vistas of Time - a Forever which Never Exists and which Forever Exists in Never.

It's enough to make a man sink, or blink
or maybe, baby,
wink.

The sky was red tonight.

That's what they'll say.

They'll say -
The sky was red that night.

And only I heard the words I spoke in return

only I was present
when that moment was born
when I left Time behind and
said,
Bring on The Dawn.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Lighthouse.

You never
called me a keeper

you never
shined your light
on me

you just crashed
and waved
(I'll just bleed)

and I believed

that you were there
for me.

I just stood
like a lighthouse

watching over
the sea

standing guard
over the wrecks

and now I kind of need

for someone
to come
and
save me.

And all the water
came rolling

and I was the last
of the men
standing alone

and I thought
your light
lit my Hope

but it was a distant
and disappearing boat

so all I could do
was pull my collar
close
and weep

then turn back
inside

to

dream.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Minotaur.

He's so beautiful,
she said,
as I lay dying on the
tiled floor
and the shadow that he cast
dark and long
was the door in to which
she stepped
- an under world
passage to
God
knew where.

And his reassuring baritone
echoed as lava
throughout the caverns
of my inadequacy
as I rolled
(too late)
to try and ecape
the Red Light
and Heat
of a new born
Trust.

(here Time breathes
ever so slowly
as I lie on my back
and stare at the gaping
nothing...)

A blink.

The blood leaves my body.

A blink.

The furnace boils
and troubles
claustrophobic
around me

and

the blood leaves my body

and everything stretches

fake plastic
elastic
grief
a puzzled and
troubled mind
(childish, Billy, I know)

but necessary I suppose

and if I move my arms slightly
I form an Angel
painted on a dark stone floor
until
she comes
that one
to stand tall

place her finger on my lips

and gently
(awkwardly) whisper,

"quiet now,
nothing needs to be said,

this painting

alone

is beauty enough
..."

I sigh
and lift my head

and the rumble of the Bull

becomes
nothing

but a cold and
distant
grunt.

These Caves...

I almost smile
as I realise,

You left your treasure
in

These Caves.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Marrow.

Late night
under the fluoro
moon, she
pulled me close
exorcising
the ghosts and mirrors
and to my
deep
surprise!
her
blue eyes
prized
the skeleton
(it seems)
from my closet
leaving me
today
as bone
and skin
bleached clean

and

dancing
(sane)
in the rain.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Hardly.

The dream wakes me up. It's about you and me and her. It's you and me on the island. Flying over the ocean. And the same thrills - guitarists at the airport, shell necklaces, the smell of the air, the looking, left and right, your wonder, your shoulders...the fact that The Devil can't get us here...though he did still, didn't he...

But it's her on land. We take a bus trip, and you're not there but she is, and she does not sit beside me. She takes position at the rear of the bus, beside an innocent boy and I watch as she lets him touch her, fall for her. Is she a game? Is this really happening? The dream is hurting me. I look away from her, sick, and all I know is, I'll be back at the resort soon, and at least then I won't have to watch...but the resort is far away, fading, and instead I wake up and it's midnight emotion which sweats the lonely bed, and distance which makes the stomach grip.

That and the question...
*** *** ***?

I'm crying when I open my eyes.
But I don't know if I care anymore.

The cat takes its chance to move further up the bed.
I try to fall asleep.

I've tried a lot of things.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Onwards.

Signed on dotted line for my house.

2 months exactly until Paris.

Time is a great comedian.

The gut is transient.

Soon, I believe, it will all be funny.

Very fucking soon.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Leprechaun.

It's a humdrum, rat-a-tat
a green and dream day
as
Childhood's End
threatens to engulf you
tear you down, a frowning clown
so far from the Waterfall World
that mirage of delight, a maybe, a might
a weightless tickle
and
the Master's sickle
might come,
unless you run, little one, before you
use the spark
alone in The Dark
(or is it a Park?) to
flash and flutter
a goon in the gutter
hic - sigh
so let's
Never Say Die
let's
fly the streamers which
the Magic Dreamers
hang
when it's time
again
to Feel TM.

Try to hold that,

tightly

that one day
 
you will be

able

To Feel Again

without the cutting
shiv (the fear this prison instilled)
of The Past's Knife Edge
slid deep (ooh aah)
between The Bars
they visit
creepy crawly - sticky and stuck
as they wallow
(fat but busy)
in their own unfeeling muck.

So let them fuck.

That story grows old.

And chase your own rainbow.

And your own

Pot of Gold.









Thanks, Pony. x

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Monday, October 12, 2009

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Sprung.



We are runaways
you and me

improvising
a Life
beneath the Freeway
overpass

huddled close for protection
and not just
against the rain

and the wine keeps us warm
and your big blue eyes
dart to and fro
and I
take turns
hiding from them
and then
hiding
in them

and you laugh
(for real)
at our misfortune
and that is
the greatest gift
of all

we stop
for a time,
Quiet,
and I imagine
that you imagine
that I imagine
and sometimes we smile
and sometimes we just
sit

until the sky
decides
enough is enough
and ceases it's mourning
moves on
and
showers
us
with warmth.

And
Once Upon A Time
A Lion says to a Goat - "Hello!"
as it stretches out
content (but not lazy)
on the Heated Rocks
beside a river.

Hello,
says the Goat
and smiles
as he
listens

to the water
fall rush

wondering to himself

if maybe now
he
can
relax.

********

Yeah, lying with me half-awake
Stumbling over what to say
Well, anyway, it's looking like a beautiful day

So throw those curtains wide...

One day like this a year



would see me right.

Amen.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Smile. The Universe Loves You.

Ten years ago.
On grass which held us to the side of a hill. 
Under the sun.

We made a pact
the first day
we met.

We said -

This is Our Universe.

And it is.

Now more than ever.

Life begins at 40, Brother.

Enjoy it.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Do you love me anyway?


Hanned Signals.

I can hear the drums
begin
ba boom
ba boom
and they're
ever so faint
but
man
so
familiar.

And the flame
is cupped
tense
in my hand

as I prepare
to light the signal

and see

if you
respond.

Monday, October 5, 2009


Night Light.


I like it when I'm happy, but people seem to like me more when I am sad. As though my happiness is an accursed falsehood. That's not the real you, I've had people say. Times when I'm smiling, laughing, dancing - being in Love. Time spent in the Light.


"If I'm not me - then who the Hell am I?"

In fairness, I have an over enthusiastic approach to joy. But I mean - it's a release for me. It's laughing at all the Hell that has been in order to believe in tomorrow. And make no mistake, I believe in tomorrow. As little and old and sad as I seem when the tears come, when the Yesterdays creep back, when the Cunts get in. The one thing no one but myself has ever been able to take from me, is my belief in Tomorrow. The Day of Recovery. We Can Do This. Let's Be Lonely Together.
And tomorrow for me isn't Success, so much, as Peace.
Just Peace.

I let two people take my peace.

They stared in my eyes and held my hands and promised me Love and Friendship and Understanding, and then they chose their own route, knowing full well what it would mean to me. And if it wasn't for A Real Boy Best and a Real Girl Best, then I may never have found a way out. I may still be in that park, in the dark, a shiver felt by those who noticed that this corner of the Earth was a little colder, pick up pace here, hold each other tighter, move toward the street lamp glow, keep that place in mind though the story will fade with time - as will the Betrayal...you'd think...No. Yes. Maybe.


 
 
I've got you, kid. You'll be okay. A Life for a Life.

My Peace is not in the hands of others.
Don't think that, Matty.
Just be wary of letting things in.

Ok.

In The End, Change came, a forgiving and blessed wind, and it brought such...well, it brought new things. That's what it brought. Just, new things. And sure, it's a jerk thing to Hope, that you can fight Change, but that's never what I've set out to do. I've always just Believed. Believed what I saw in small moments, quiet hearts, the gaps between the notes, the light in your eyes, the person from my dreams, the one who
the one who
the one who liked Me, laughed with me, was proud of me, my Heart, my Soul, and didn't take a stick to it and beat the Hell out of it, didn't Hate it for being happy, didn't need to assert some sort of control over the Youth in my heart. I don't know. I am fighting the squinty eyed hurt demons, but they are clever and justified and being Forgiving and BIG is not always so easy when you have nothing but shock and dumbstruck surprise.
You know this already. I don't want to bang on about it.
I just haven't had a chance to sit, quietly, on my own, and try to explain it without sending myself insane, or crying, or pretending to forget or all the things you do when The Hurt comes. And I thought to write it down, in preparation for When The Hurt Leaves. And maybe some people need other people to make that happen. Who am I to judge. I need my friends, this is a Grand Truth. But what I truly need, is Myself. Real me. Quiet me. Alone me.
And now
(Now...)
Now there are two lamps sighing red light in the Living Room. And Molina is crackling on vinyl. And there is tea not wine. And an Apple Pie. And there is a white cat purring beside me. And there is a bath and book after book after book. And there is wonderfully, happily, Cheshire Cat grinningly, the  feeling that this is truly Home.

And there is Tomorrow.
There is always Tomorrow.

And Tomorrow is mine.

And Yours,

of course.

And if I keep my eyes forward, and do not get distracted by the Tides, the Stars, the Silver Glow - if I do that, one foot, two foot, red foot, blue foot, forward -

well

in the Hallways of Wonder
Down the steps of Defeat
you never know what Tomorrow


will drop at your feet.

Enjoy your peace, friends.

As I do mine.

(and let's never mention it again x)

Thursday, October 1, 2009