Nonsense

  

Aware of Another

Aware of another person in the same building blocks out the easy rider feel of satin in your mind how do you know how they will react to the knowledge that no-one is truly alone no matter how much they sometimes feel the uncomfortable muzz of a disconnected vacant stare on a stairway from the peoples' ground floor to your personal space on a first floor of a peculiar been there before when the television is silent for a moment or two kind of late night feeling of surprise when you fail to understand that the other person must have purely been wishful thinking in an odd way you don't regret a thing and take another look at your lifestyle with no style that you can put your finger on and then you hear someone going up the stairs in next doors' house which completely wrecks your train of thought though you can't see why when Jimbo is reading from his Prayer while you nervously sit and wait for the house to come alive at closing time.

Banks of The Styx

There she was, with a gun in her hand,

Picking lilies on the banks of The Styx.

It was all I could do to just stare and stand,

Remembering how you got your kicks.

She turned round to face me, but just looked right through me,

Her hands fell like death to her side.

I kept quite silent, as the moment felt violent,

But there was just nowhere to hide.

Thus stood us two, and the ferryman, who,

Almost invisibly glided on by,

I acknowledged his passing with a so subtle nod,

Saw the wink of his terrible eye.

I turned back to see her, and to reach out for her,

But as it seemed the moment had gone,

I sat down in the flowers, and summoned my powers,

Tried in vain to conjure a song.

I wracked my brain hard to come up with the words,

When I did the tune came out wrong,

So I hummed and I whistled, as my memory bristled,

It just didn’t scan and the verses too long.

There she was with the works in her hand,

Having scored on the banks of The Styx,

I opened my mouth to shout something uncouth,

But no words, just the chewing of bricks.

I couldn’t believe, as she rolled up her sleeve,

That such elegant beauty could be so unreal,

I had tried to save her, though I’d wanted to leave,

As deep down, I had started to feel.

When I looked up again, I could see through her brain,

I could see the cogs had all jammed,

Numb and so helpless, I tried hard to stand,

This just wasn’t going as planned.

I looked over again, expecting her pain,

In fact I half expected her dead,

I was mildly surprised to fall into her eyes,

As quite cleanly she entered my head.

When I awoke, to this fabulous joke,

I was alone on the ground, quickly looked round,

To try to assess just what she had done,

Little I saw, through eyes that were raw, but perhaps could make out a song.

There she was with a flute in her hand,

A garland of lilies strewn on the path,

Again and again, I then wracked my brain,

To summon beauty no woman hath.

Tragically fragile, and utterly futile,

My attempt to rescue such maid,

From my own damnation, I must seek salvation,

Footsteps on the way I have laid.

A lesson confusing, but not of my choosing,

Perhaps one that was sent,

I came back to life, to much pain and strife,

And thought; “Perhaps it was meant?....”

Came to Say.

When two pieces of broken glass,

Slightly splintered and nonchalent,

Are joined at the mutual pelvis,

Can you tell me where I left my body ?

Where I left my baby's body,

With the glistening sweet lying on a beach,

A breach of smooth stones and solitude,

For a maniacal lover to dance on.

The glass is imperfect and hazed,

But catches violent light in odd rainbows,

A spectrum of screaming emotion claws,

And incorporeal sense of typhoon love.

The mother storm bringing destruction in our path,

And as high as you are the glass is shattered,

And the beach is invisible in rubber,

Screaming splinters in my head space.

A place we may sometimes come to,

I know its more real than you,

And at the pinnacle of hot ice,

I know I only live in your scream.

I only came to say goodbye,

To the one who became me,

And I tell you with truthful pride,

That you were the only girl I came with.

 

Dark Heat

Dark heat and clear for take-off,

Dated machinery scrines in mock complaint,

And in stereo you mistake her love.

Driven by anger,

Lead by fear,

Images of self-disbelief,

Contorted shelf-like freeze marked.

Content to observe,

Not to serve,

To watch and

To mimic radio-opera.

The intense scorching heat in love bedsit,

And swim free through drowned gardens,

Mental paths to sunlit glades with

Fronds of welcome,

Wracks of loving.

Swim free,

No machine my heart,

Power cut.

( I know it's what I currently use as the background image to the whole site, but here is a slightly different version. Taken on the moors above Glossop, a handful of years ago. There haven't been any trees on there for a few hundred years.......)

 

I guess we've all had better weeks. Three of my older customers have had life-changing falls, my ever-more expensive van has needed some more costly attention, and, well, the other stuff. What a way to approach a personal life-time milestone.....

Stay philosophical. I am trying to!

As for the pieces above, I'm not setting puzzles or riddles here, these are just more points between drawn lines might be a clue as to who I am and where my head is. Or they might be just random stuff. Who knows, or cares?

On that note......Got the old Playhard (Tom Wilson/React) album on, not quite loud enough to piss the neighbours off, but it's a close call, and the fire's in. Dogs walked, laundry done, and am thinking I might do a TV hour.....

Night all. (Well, all 5 of you, whoever you might be....)