Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Gracious Tide, Take Me Home

Dreams of miniature fragility. An intensity unknown without true understanding. Twisted minds that weed out the weaker hearts. It takes more than sheer moral to get through the day.

It was such a lazy afternoon. Woozy air and frayed on details that didn't have to contribute. Slightly oxymoronic perhaps, but (guilty) welcomed relief.

Go and do little good. Take that advice how you please, but on small observation those that make it optimistic are the hopeful and few. When cynicism seems to rule from the heart, over having been learnt from childhood lessons and time, that is when we should worry. Now correct me where I am wrong, if I do say I believe some of us have been worrying an awfully long time already. Is karma coming?

Taking buckets and spades; adventure calls! Make towering features to impress yourself. Sit in the sand having crafted your vehicle. Shells and old treasures are the controls to take you forth. Travelling to wherever the sea should take you - it is said freedom fills those sails. The wind is always honest with its news coming from the far and wide. Often wishing western shores, where the lanterns shine as they lift their light to the sky. Settle on the water and disappear home.

How should you say more when they ask the kids to write essays solely based on so much suffering and death? When we should not wish to choose our days feeling sad but must spend the morning writing of disaster.

New people from other shores, they would understand in another language, if only it could have been explained at the beginning. You have a thousand keys and one lock - how to find meaning when it could be from only one reality.

Looking to become those dreams you have had, the scariest possibility of all. Especially when they are so far removed from sensible concepts thought up in right minds. Measure the difference, day by day.

Waiting to wake up from a dark time. Though you realise your eyes are open and nothing will change now. It is a happy year for happy people. Measure this difference, day by day. Grow distance.

Monday, 16 January 2012

Open Door

Do you ever just run, and not stop? Keep going and make the distance very great. Before that, did you tell them you were going? Leaving so abruptly, you hardly could pause for a thought or two. Cause a stir and don't turn your head to see the spin.

Arrest me with your mind and undress me with your eyes. Remind me that it is weakness that brought me here but then beg me for confidence. Let bodies twist and turn, become one in the dusk and two in the morning. The moon doesn't wait for romance, such as the mood won't care for lit candles.

Do you read, see, hear, talk and know things like this but yet sit there and wonder why you haven't gone? There's a reason why. But when you can't place that reason, all that's left to decide is why you haven't gone yet. If I am wired again, this time you won't be there to hold me down and ask me what I'm doing. I'm taking glue with scratched hands and trying to stick the wounds shut tight. Fix up. But hard not to grab a bottle and pour out tears by the unit. So much unnecessary mess!

Crush the kindred spirit, it'll still remain in pieces. The parent child.
There's a black pool calling out for the last of my love, and that is gladly given. Whatever left, not dried up.

Should we chose to read things back with clear vision on the cards, will we like what we see? Silence should take you as a willing prisoner.

"Everything ends."

Write a note, screw it up and throw it out.
Leave unnoticed.

Saturday, 7 January 2012

Give Up The Ghost

When I was little my Papa would try and drive through the night, so we could enjoy the next whole day waiting for us. I'd be sat in the back of the car and buckled in tight. The streetlamps would flash past and when we'd come to a long tunnel it was as if the sound had been sucked out of the world. It was always a long way and I never made the distinction between being awake and having fallen into a dream. I saw the bridges come and go, just as we passed the lights every few seconds. And as we'd get away from the city haze soon the stars would flood the sky and the darker blues would compete to fill my vision, here and there. But I'd never felt scared or confused. Worried about where I was heading. Because of 'we'. With someone keeping me in mind and who had carefully lodged me in their heart on first sight years before. Partly because I knew nothing really of evil and a world out there (really outside of my younger years), but I felt safe. What a homely feeling that is. This feeling is always consistent but not constant. You know it is there, without actually acknowledging it. It'll creep up on you when you least expect, want or need it to. Though it is not always welcome, as time moves forward change makes the past real and in that old, warm familiar feeling becomes locked.

I gave away all and kissed my heart goodbye, for an indefinite time of return. May it's journey remain golden, as a body is left broken. The hardest phone call after the longest night. I can't tell you how I sat and choked on words I'd missed out when it was dark outside and the house was sleeping. Rocking back and forth, so slowly in a place once known for comfort. Apologies flying by the ceiling, looking for gratification of redeeming bad deeds. Exactly what you need to have the pain go away now taboo. The irony of only wanting that. Remembered an old safety, a warmth like a little match inside me struck and I held on to it. But it burnt out too quick and I was only reminded of how alone I am.

So day to day things are changing and events are happening but there is no connection felt. I'll smile, laugh and spin round holding your hand but you can't take away the cold inside. The tears that keep falling every night. The painful reminders that come every time denial pulls me back towards his delicious graces. A stab in the dark. Now things have changed she says that the obvious way is forward and on to new horizons. Well no, because that's not right. Too hollow and empty for that. You shall not try to understand this because we are all different. You used anger to shake me, and hurt me so. I sat wishing it wouldn't stop, in spite of the pain it reminds me of you.

It's as if I stood, not so elegantly, on an ancient rug: moth-bitten and with it's rich colours faded, it had once been so new. Trying to find a sense or balance, regain some purpose or any other. Some trickster came along, without magician's skill, and pulled it out from clean under me. We (audience included) are waiting for me to slam to the ground, but I won't leave running. It just hasn't hit me yet. The audience won't get their melodious laughter quite yet. Just as eagerly looking for some tears to fall. Admit everything no one can can see how time stands still, except in torturous habit should it choose to proceed maliciously slow. I am wishing for you to be so very happy, always. But I never saw it coming.