Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Collapse Into Now

Are you coming soon? It is all about to start. The dusk is lifted on an open stage -

"I'll wait forever and a day" and falling in love with that day you said that, to me.

Two travellers, are they leaving or going? We question motives whether it be aloud or deep inside. There is so much to see and to discover, for our own - despite those having found it before. The river is ever new, so why can't our own eyes be too. A mandolin sings serenades of sweetness and wraps an embrace. "She was such a sweet girl, so gentle in her way". We mourn for the victims of past, present and future. There are so many, we cannot know all their names. The sombre piano enters now and reminds you in reverberating resonance. You are left sat still, slightly slumped, with your shoulders lower - the chip, a heavy weight. It is a visible change the eye can see. Cello of Wisdom plays now and holds your hand like Daddy did no matter how grown up you got. Constantly there and hum drum to the rhythm this path takes you on. Despite the eerie violin harmonium you continue to walk forward. You imagine yourself in a forest and the breeze of sound comes and goes as quickly as it were here. The sudden a cappella of the backing chorus are leaves crunching and twigs cracking. Then the mighty drum swoops in and whisks you away, your knight in shining armour has come. Pandemonium ensues but it always dies away with the slow pianos. Their marriage of sound is sometimes happy. His in contentment, hers shared but they all say the sorrow can be heard in her captivating scale. She is only shades of blue.

Do you ever see so much more colour in sound as there is in the rainbow?

We do our bit, that's meant to be enough. (It never is). Like on the day you said so long ago.
('These things I say are just traces of something')

The invisible band played you out on the deserted stage.
Not ready, not ready, not ready.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

We're standing on the tops of the highest peaks, dangerously snow capped. They are phreatic when the ancients talk of the God's anger. Mountainous rage. We're in wait of the beacon call. A signal only outrun by winter or eagle wail. Together.

Black isn't really black. It is speckled with whites and grey; misleading. The first lie of the day. Crumpled sheets and gentle breath. Staring out to the audience, after the show stopper. Breath caught and sound erased. It's as though you can stare into empty spaces, even if skins are still touching. Never so soft but smooth and scented. Who is prey? Make me loose and ready. Feathers from speckles, is it not just dusty air? We use amelioration to make everything just so. Even words are lying to us in the 21st century, as in decades before. The second lie of the afternoon. The transformation may happen at any light, but the hour must be steady. Fluttering lids in a fable. The continuation of feigning sleep to see your skin. I've lost the clocks and so have you - the sun is misleading in the summer time, which twelve ticking have we reached? No lie just apathy. Let's act as if it was a parallel and all that happens here will stay locked in my necklace. We can breathe together that way. Denial, the third strike - out.
I'll disarm you once more, my answer of tiny shreds. Teach carnal knowledge and harbour monstrous thoughts. I don't care about the universe. I just want your skin on mine. I want to study your anatomy and memorise every curve and rib. I want to know the soft spots and where gives way to amazing. The setting doesn't matter but you being there does. I just want this.
Monster. (You) keep on dropping little bombs, and the crumbling ruins continually take the hits. What happens when there is nothing left to be destroyed?
Then falling, falling with my own version of Yr, stuck all over my vision. Every turn and all direction. The haven's secrets unravel.

So, I'm standing on this mountain. The winds are whipping. The sky is clear but dark. I have no clue how I got here. All I can feel is your eyes looking into this star gazer's far off stare. Waiting alone.

Please let me open my eyes now.

Monday, 4 July 2011

Aimed For Night

"Late last night you looked me in the eyes and said it might be time to go back."

It's hope, fluttering and a little too fragile to stand in the full glare of the malicious sun, but it is there. A butterfly of so many colours, brilliant in how they collide and blur. You're somewhat heady but that's okay because you seem to know the route to follow. The knowledge is stored deep inside your heart and soul. There's light in the tunnel - filling all the dark spaces so you can see the near ancient brick work, tiny cracks, covered with moss. Time to ponder how much work was put into this structure, you can't help but feel mighty passion. Time to realise how much of life has passed. You may be dressed down and drab but the charm of the light tickles your face and sparkling, you are. The knots that bound your wrist as scars well, they seem to fade, and loosen their long standing hold. You've been given today to be everything. It feels too good to be true but we'll revel in the glory of it. Feel invincible and forget the neverlasting. Hooked by the notion of forever, and those little words.

Getting ready to take a step forward, just one tiny and slow movement. There are exceptional circumstances playing in the favour of happiness. Fortunes of tarot have chance to change. No one really understands what they are. Taking a herbal sip away from calamity. Chaos forced back into Pandora's hands. Serenity lending you her smile. No longer feeling placid but just the right amount of warm. You're floating and for once you do not have to know why or where. I don't want to let you down.

The sun is shining even in the night. The mind is quiet.
"Take my hand, walk me around this mess."

2008, I was getting lost in the way it was. Smile like this again, someday.