Tuesday 28 July 2009

Ever since I was a kid I've been a brooding basket case.

Hey, do you remember that time when you said that you loved me and you meant it. You said that you had found those words hiding way down at the bottom of your heart where you didn't expect to find anything.
Hey, do you remember that time when you said that you loved me and didn't mean it. When you learnt to tell the two similar tales apart and recognise their entirely dissimilar but intricate connotations and meaning.
Hey do you remember that time that you had said that you didn't love me anymore and you could no longer find the feeling even way down the bottom of your heart where you had expected to find your heart strings.
Were you surprised to find them missing.
What came in-between those ever so important junctures. I wonder. I can't give any amount of thought depth, meaning or structure other than: I doubt, therefore I am.

Monday 27 July 2009

I admit that I was wrong.

A second life, language and home. A secret left to grow alone. Imagine a beautiful flower perhaps, in the world I call metaphor imagery reveals everything that you ever wanted to know about memory...remember you never would have known had I not told you.
Had I not trashed your home.
Had I not broken your heart we would still be together and I admit that I was wrong from the very start.
Although I acted out of necessity.
So; "let's get out of this city."
So; "let's get out of the house."
So; "let's get out of this romance," I said, comparing it to the natural disaster of drought.
You responded with a plea for my departure from a long list of your haunts and possessions.
If you love me, you'll let me live in peace.
A contradiction in your terms is illuminated by my confession that: I will remain recurrent and I never loved you more. You release me from the world that I named metaphor.

Tuesday 21 July 2009

Let me be fictional once in a while.

There's no such thing as endless love, it's only a joke told in very poor taste that some how keep cracking me up.

Monday 20 July 2009

I guess I've never really done anything other than say the right or wrong thing at any given time, be it the right or wrong time, I follow my instincts and never really act upon anything other than trying to be a better man.
What you said was missing was missing from inside your own head, your mind and body lacked the qualities required and not mine. I want you to know this, even if it is the wrong time to say the right thing. I guess it's always the right time to say the wrong thing in your mind. You will forever be ready to react.

Sunday 12 July 2009

Perhaps there's something missing in us all. Perhaps we are all destined to fall at the hands of others. Perhaps we are all destined to fail in the eyes of our lovers. Perhaps we are all destined to fade in strength to the weight of our most cherished relationships when the horns of trouble ring out and the battle cries commence.
She said there was something missing, and not one isolated insignificant piece of a puzzle but instead a remarkable naive romanticism inherent in her mind that I couldn't shift or stir her from a deep sleep.
I am confident that what she thought to be missing was there all along, perhaps wearing the mask and cloak provided by years of experience but eternally willing to shed it's disguise and be born again with a little encouragement. It has become obvious that she simply was not willing to look at, reach out and caress a relationship. Care for it as it cared for her. It's like she's got one magic trick, just the one and that's it, she disappears.

Saturday 11 July 2009

You're a Queen, and I feel like shit.

[A song for expecting friends.]

When you're born i'll call you a seminal wind
bringing ghosts of life to the surface again
with eyes held wide like sights of majesty
the kind we really need in this city

and if greatness casts its shadow
long and heavy behind you

it's because there ain't no mountain you can't move.
sweetchild,
there just ain't no mountain that can stand up to you.


when you come i'll call you the beginning of the end
of the way i was, because i'd give up everything
to show you the world with which you're left
things are such a mess, i'm sorry for everything

but if greatness casts its shadow
long and heavy behind you

remember there ain't no mountain you can't move.
sweetchild,
there just ain't no mountain that can stand like you
you'll teach these old dogs something new
there ain't no mountain you can't move.

Friday 10 July 2009

At the end of a long night...

"I'm glad that nothing has been left unsaid" she said. Her voice reverberating seemingly around the room, causing my head to spin with a 'boom tic boom tic boom tic boom' motion, oh the commotion as loud as the tide of any ocean as her words defiantly bounced off of all of the words left unsaid in my head. Unaware and unwounded, she fled as fast as any notion of 'us' that I had held a tight grip of in my head.
The vanishing.
I take heed of my possesions. I count the change in my pocket and question what I am holding a tight grip on now. A bar rail. Alone with just my words and my friends, I raise a whiskey and a subsequent beer to the beautiful flowers that will only ever inevitably wilt. I lower my voice, almost mute, until I lower my head. I tilt and I tipple. What was once a wave; my emotions have been reduced to a ripple. I catch the eye of a potential second best, as I forget your name, I ask her to name her poison. My venom transcends: "..oh, honey. Will you help me pick up the change?" I will say. Less of a question, more of a rehearsed phrase. By morning, I'll have had it my own way, I'll have told her all about you.

Thursday 9 July 2009

So, come back...I am waiting.



There’s plenty of time to make you mine tonight, there’s plenty of time to make you mine.
There’s plenty of ways to know you’re not dying, all right. Hell, there’s plenty of light still left in your eyes.

There’s plenty of things to wear when you come to me, every color of sleeve to be rolled. There are millions of rolling eyes that still cling to me. Every language of king is concerned. So why did you bawl from the spell of some old holy song that some liar laughed as he composed - some liar I loved to control?

I am waiting on hoof and on hand. I am waiting, all hated and damned. I am waiting - I snort and I stamp. I am waiting, you know that I am, calmly waiting to make you my lamb.

If I was going to lose with you, I was going to lose big.

If you're gonna lose then
might as well lose big then
as always it was always it shall be
do you really love me?

If you promise me you do
I'll take that job you want me to
and do my best
swear that I can pass this test.

some girl told me last night
she found my rhythms so tight
I swear she only bought me one or two
I told her all about you.

you should try to be more kind.
you know how i need to unwind
when it gets dark
and i wanna see some SPARKS.

Europe's gonna love me
all in different countries
there is no way that i could turn it down
and, anyway, it's for us

promise i'll be home before
that baby's knocking at the door
ill be right there
to let it in i wont be scared

well if we're gonna lose then
might as well lose big then
as always it was always it shall be
do you really love me?
do you really love me?

Wednesday 8 July 2009

..on working at night time while your friends all sleep furiously.

I must have rubbed my eyes all night, but I made it through to the other side.
Removing my glasses each time, until I made it through to the other side.
When good morning means good night and an atypical sun creeps from behind the roofs to the tree tops instead of a typical moon and it's easy, soft bathing light. Hiding until it chooses to shine and only then will it suddenly brake through the shade and into your eyes, it's hard to imagine your enitial reaction but now it's blinding you, so bright; sleep furiously.

Let's get out of the romance.

You thought you knew me
Emptiness prevails
I thought our full house was glowing
Emptiness in the house

Every single shape I see for the pile of dust it is
Let's get out of the romance
Empty house
Now I look at the lights of town through the trees on my way home
Emptiness
Let's get out of the romance
The house that I walk home to is in flames in this wind
The wind is getting stronger
The emptiness shows
The breath that moves the branches saying words that I don't know
Blows from nowhere
Just destroying
For no reason
But to wake me up again heartbroken and tall
Wind revealing
The dust that the body becomes
The spaces where we stood echo quiet
Rubbing eyes
We feel up the empty days
Clinging with our things to an windy rock
I revealed myself to you
And let the wind take me
Obliterated, you know me by my shadow.

Tuesday 7 July 2009

You move me to the core; everytime.

Human, human
Where did your life go?
And how do you live and how do you forget that you must die?
Human, human;
You were not proud before,
You did not used to talk so loud.
Human, human;
You dumb ape, you blind bat. You animal, just remember that
Human, human;
There are still songs at night,
There are still sounds in the mines below.
Let's get out of the romance.
Human, human -
You will not, and I will never be free
From the weight of our living
The load that our lungs must lift,
The armour we wear, though we are weary, we fight
Human, human,
But you were a baby too, we did not used to be so proud.
Human, human.
I know the world looks wide,
So wherever you go, over and over, just keep saying:
"You win! You win!"
Don't destroy me, but go right through me
Take my home and my wife
Human, human.
Your generous lungs billow warmth.

Sunday 5 July 2009

..all that is your beauty and all that is your treasure.

Bless this tiny alley. We have fallen from tall buildings. We have fallen through the air into a garden sweetly smelling of the softest sleeping flowers.
Now they sit under the sidewalk.
Now they're waiting for the shining of some future sun to show us all that is your beauty, oh, and all that brings you pleasure. I could sigh into your hide and say I hope I'm here forever.
Black sheep boy with your lovers. With your list of favorite pillows. With your list of missing children. With the wall where you drew windows overlooking hidden gardens cut apart by jagged mountains, climbing up into the air and crumbling down into a fountain. Where the water waits forever like a quiet distant treasure.
When you rise up to recover when, you leave this tiny alley.
When you meet me in the garden with your horns all hung with cedar. Every spirit brushing past me, brushing past them in the ether.
Scream: all of this is window dressing, all you are is flimsy curtains. Watch you flame up with a word from us and won't know that you're burning

Bless this tiny alley. We have fallen from tall buildings. We have fallen.
Bless the birth of him, the chapel he was killed in.
All these tiny flowers, they have sat under the sidewalk, they have waited for the pieces of the summer sun to show us all that is your beauty and all that is your treasure.
I could smell your skin beside me. Say: I hope I'm here forever.
Captain with your lovers. With your list of favorite pillows. With your favorite list of children and the wall where you drew windows overlooking tiny gardens cut in two by jagged mountains and the secret sacred sharing that went on beside the fountain. Where the water waits forever for a tiny tiny treasure that will rise up and recover. That will leave this tiny alley when you meet me in the garden with your wings all dipped in cedar.
All these spirits brushing past me, brushing past me in the ether.
Say "all this is window dressing, all you are is flimsy curtains, you will flame up with a word from us and won't know that you're burning."

Saturday 4 July 2009

..oh baby one day you'll understand...oh baby, one day you'll hold my hand.

Filter through the background noise, a female cries alone in a crowd. Time is a precious tedium, while alone in a crowd. The curious girl is invisible once more, alone in a crowd. Too proud to raise her dark glasses, forever alone in a crowd.

The majesty; her crown. My fair lady; her frown. I am a clown for being able to lift neither. Unable to turn this predicament around.

Strange words didn't register with strange eyes and ears, you left too soon you could have stuck around, time was on our side but you simply struck time out. Clocks and chaos: I will never be so careless.

Wednesday 1 July 2009

Seven simple rules for a life in hiding

one: never trust a cop in a raincoat.
two: beware of enthusiasm and of love, each is temporary and quick to sway.
three: if asked if you care about the world's problems look deep into the eyes of he who asks, he will not ask you again.
number four and five: never give your real name, and if ever told to look at yourself, never look.
six: never say or do anything that the person standing in front of you cannot understand...and seven: never create anything. It will be misinterpreted, it will chain you and follow you for the rest of your life, and it will never change