(no subject)
So why am I writing this?
Yesterday...
Yesterday...
This is about the past
This is about ghosts...
Yesterday someone sent me an e-mail
A friend from a long time ago
and in the e-mail was a picture of Sharon...
Sharon was my girlfriend
no
she was more than that
way more than that
she was part of me
I was part of her
we were one person
one identity
one entity
one being
we were...
more than can be described
we were happiness...
Her parents were not that happy about us in the beginning
I was the wrong sort of guy
with the wrong sort of history
but over time they saw us
they could understand
who could argue when they saw us?
We worked so well together
and so they brought me into the family
I belonged...
Although we were both very young we still lived together
we were happy
we were never apart
some people talk about freedom and space in relationships
but we didn't need that
nor want it
we were inseparable...
Sharon's family were a nice family
respectable
honest
hard working
except for her brother
he'd been in a bit of trouble
(I guess that's one of the things that clouded her parents view of me in the early days)
he'd got involved in drugs
who hasn't?
but he wasn't in control
they were in control of him
and his habit led him into other worlds of theft and thuggery and he was
and he was now living in bail accommodation awaiting trial
but it was a close family
so every weekend we would drive out with a parcel for him
we didn't like to take him money or valuables as we knew where that would lead but we would
take him essentials like food and clothing and other things
We'd drive out on a Sunday morning
give him his parcel and then either take him out for a drive and something to eat or,
if the drugs were making him less sociable, leave him to do his own thing...
The building was pretty drab and the men only policy meant that Sharon had to wait in the car
while I went and knocked on the door, it was a bad 'hood so I was never to happy about this
but I dutifully did my thing
Sharon and I never argued
we were to busy being happy...
This Sunday I walked over to the building and found her brother in a very nervous way
he was like this often
he'd get himself into debt or trouble and then get very fearful so I went inside to talk for a
while
I listened for 5 minutes
10 minutes
15 minutes past
and then he finally asked me for some money
I knew it was coming
I knew I shouldn't but...
As I gave him his parcel I slipped over $20 as well...
and then, feeling guilty, I left...
How do I write the rest of this?
I don't have the words to say things...
I walked outside and saw the car on fire
Sharon was inside beating on the window and I rushed over to try and open the door
my hands were burning on the handle but I pulled and pulled and...
I couldn't do it
I tried
I tried so fuckin' hard
I tried like it was my life at risk...
It all gets a bit crazy after that
I was pulled away from the car
hit a few people and ran back for another try
only to be pulled away again and held there
watching...
watching the girl I love screaming
crying
burning to death
and I was powerless
and there were people
so many people
and...
fuck drink
fuck drugs
memories give me blackouts...
I thought my way free again
and ran
and ran
and ran...
The next few weeks
(maybe longer, maybe less, time didn't matter...)
I wandered the streets
in and out of consciousness
in and out of drugs
in and out of drunkenness
I got through that
but I never recovered
I never will
a part of me died that day
and I have to carry that death with me...
The whole thing was like a badly edited movie
one moment I would be conscious of running down a street on a hot summers day
my next memory would be running along a cold
wet street at night...
No continuity
great swathes of black broken by brief moments of lucidity and recognition
I was always a runner when I was younger
why walk anywhere when it can be run in a fraction of the time?
But after Sharon...
That running was different
that was aggressive
angry
destructive
and it dripped in and out of reality
sometimes I'd wake up to see a face in mine
or the inside of a bar
or to find myself lying on a mattress with a needle by my arm
Sometimes I'd wake to find myself in a scene of violence
sometimes I'd just wake to the rain soaking me as I lay in the street
screaming out
I was filled with insanity
and desperation
I was trying to out run reality
and you can't do that
That movie?
The Superman one where he flies so fast around the world to turn back time to save Lois Lane...
That's what I was trying to do
but I wasn't fast enough
I wasn't good enough...
Times moved on now
It hurts still
it always will
but I can cope now
although I don't know if I will ever be fully cleansed of back then
part of me will keep on running in a desperate attempt to return paradise to me...
And then...
then I get this e-mail
with a picture of Sharon...
and it wasn't even her
it was just...
a two dimensional image on a piece of plasticised paper
that's not her
she was real
she was life
she was my love
a photograph is a stranger
but that picture...
it brings back the memories
so...
so I write part two
something to stop my mind from thinking...
The haze of tiredness
head weary from living
one thousand nights
of existence
stories taken
stories given
crossing paths of strangers
in daylight
in night light
to humble dwellings
of insular existence...
Holding on to the dream
woken at sunset by the sound of a silken sheet crashing against the sky
azure heavens
fractured by sunlight
gone is the night
The clock ticks on
but time is frozen
etched upon the surface of my brain
like an old song...
Do I like the song?
Does it matter?
My mind shows no sign of prejudice towards this tune...
'I have no inclination to go to war!'
The ocean takes no interest in my words
the sea always listens
but it never hears me
she is selfish
wrapped up in her own importance
so much as I love the ocean I find her an unsatisfying mistress...
'Who holds the baby now?'
I can't help thinking
'Even Hitler had a mother!'
Weep fair maiden
shed your crystal tears
for the dark clouds are streaming across the skies...
A thunderous roar
A flashed smile
Cool September mornings fight to break summers spirit
but I know my love will come again
The cycle rolls on
Let me kiss your breast afore you go
let me weep once more before you go...
'Who hears the words of your bastard son?'
Like the reformed addict who's still in love with the junk
I know I can not live without you
you're out there somewhere
love me
love me...
After Vancouver
(which I'm not done with yet)
came Seattle
a one night stand before greyhound was to take me through many states to my Michigan dream
I slipped out the back door of the hotel
I felt I had to
a 12 hour phone call was something I could not afford
so I figured the back door check out was the best option
they'll live without my money...
The station was two blocks up the road so I wandered up there in no time
it was a non smoking venue so I stopped outside to have a cigarette before checking in
smoking is important
maybe essential to me
whatever...
I smoke
and am unwilling to not smoke just because some one else orders it...
A guy in a Black Lincoln asked me if I had a spare smoke
I gave him one
and we talked shit for ten minutes
I could say it was interesting
after all it turned out we'd met before in Europe a few years earlier
but to be honest the guy was a bore
and I was glad to get away
but then what do you expect?
Any guy that views a greyhound station as a place to meet people and socialise probably isn't
going to be that exciting...
I was lost in the wind that day
hidden secrets and thoughts carried on cool jets
but my turned up collar hid my thoughts from the world...
Most of my time was spent reflecting on the call the night before
I had spent 12 hours talking to the girl from Michigan
that was a promising sign...
I've always dreamt while sleeping
whilst awake
in deep clear oceans
where I never drown
alone with my history...
You don't have to see me
to notice me
you can just step past me
dribbling in my corner
shouting out
"The pillow is a horse -
the flag is a peach"
Just wheel me in the day room
after breakfast
I'm happy there
lost in the fog
calling out
calling out
I don't need to be alive
as long as I can fool the agents
the machine
I'm happy there
you don't have to say hello
to look at me
to stop and care
you can just step past me
dribbling in my corner...
And the door shuts
the key turns in the lock
and the lights are extinguished
except for the glow
of their intrusion
and you are left lying there
alone in that place
with only your thoughts as company
and you think
and you slumber
and you dream
and then you wake again
trying to desperately hold on to the dream
only to see it shattered by the waking reality of your location
and so it goes on
and on
another day rolls into another night
I used to dream in there
semiconscious dreams
pressed in to my head by the collapsing walls of my stomach
so full of the stuff they give you
and you're only there for observations...
At nights I'd dream of the ocean
I'd dream that I would rise from that place and walk along the shore
walk
and walk
and walk
and walk
on
and on
along the shore
the sun
the sea breeze
the gentle sound of the lapping waves
and I'd walk
and my feet would crunch on the stony beach
as the sun burnt down upon my back
and upon my neck
and I'd have a back pack with me
and it would pull against my back
and my neck
and I'd walk
and walk
and walk
and my feet would ache
as the sun burnt down
and the stones crunched
and the waves lapped
and my mouth dried
it would dry
and dry
and dry
I'd need to drink
I'd need water
and the waves would lap against the shore
again
and again
but there was no water to quench my thirst
and my back would hurt
and my neck was burnt
and my feet ached
and blistered
and burst
and ached even more
as the sun scolded me
and the waves would lap
and I would walk
and walk
and walk
on
and on
along the shore...
I painted a lot while I was there
about 10 or 15 paintings a day
they were all seascapes
all painted from my dreams
surreal visions of...
My sister wrote me a poem about the ocean
she knows how attached I am to it...
I think her poem is beautiful
You remind me of the ocean
so free
yet so trapped
in miles
and miles
but angels
everywhere
are watching over you
everywhere
you ever go
even if you don't know
you remind me of the ocean
drowning in words
words you've heard
from people you know
crying inside and out
but not for show
no one knows
you're drowning
but still you're sounding
normal
like always
you remind me of the ocean
you don't moan like human
you moan
like you've been tossed
and thrown
on your own
made of stone
you moan
from heart
from the start
you've been torn apart..
thrown off the chart
you remind me of the ocean
its wild and free
and loud and tossed
but no matter what
I love the ocean
I love you
Beautiful don't you think?
I'm so proud of her
I'd be proud of her at any age
but to write that at 12...
My Sis is the best...
I demand!
I demand!
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhh
who's holding the baby?
know more?
no more...
and I've you've ever seen a Wednesday morning...
Well you know
we know
the world knows Wednesday mornings...
I had a dream once
well I've had a lot of dreams
but...
This dream was different
just like all the others
eyes open wide
the sunlight of tomorrow streaming in
and I asked myself
'which twin is different,
which one identical
which one an island
in my mind?'
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhhh
Who's holding the baby?
And a left
and a right
and jab
jab
jab
a right cross
and the champions on the ropes
better or worse?
on crack?
on his back?
Over 75% of dead people never live again
and the others?
So I had this dream
eyes open wide
my eyes
his eyes
thoughts like gunshots
rapid fire
bang
bang
bang
Spock would be proud
child raising mind meld
'my mind to yours
your mind to mine'
and the thoughts streamed in the dream
and...
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhh
Who's holding the baby?
In the beginning
in a beginning
two weeks ago
near the end of this story
I recreated...
I retraced...
I...
I awoke
arose
walked from the house
down the road
along the winding path
to the beach
to thoughts of summer
'Drink up my friend
the bar is closing...'
The tide was going out
the salt hung in the air
wind whipped up the waves
and I turned north
and climbed the coast path
to the cliffs edge
looking out over the oceans beyond
and I sat upon a rock
and dreamt
my dream within my dream
within a dream
within a dream
but the dream had changed
the ships had gone
the shark swam in different waters
and the wooded valley was a tiny winding path
and the little shop had closed
and was now just a house...
People talked politics
instead of laughing
and I was old...
The girl in the bar loved me
but she didn't love me enough
only in my mind
but my mind is full of dreams
and the dreams are always changing...
The barman wanted to serve me with more than drinks
but I'd drunk to much already
and I wore a bright green shirt that I'd bought as someone else
and the sea kept on rolling
and the cliffs still stood and watched
but summer had gone...
Funny...
(as in strange)
those words were from near the beginning of this story,
I wrote them to the girl in Michigan
based on memories of a place I knew
and they were mirrored when I flew into the UK
as I returned to the place
and the words were still true
(even found the old green shirt tucked away in the cellar of the bar,
don't ask how it got there...)
and...
that was two weeks ago
the end of the story
a complete circle
unplanned
but...
It was all a different dream though
so is it relevant?
Only the ocean links it all..
The beach is still there
my beach
my world
and the Irish landlord
he'll serve you drinks anytime
anytime I tell him
day or night
we're open
and...
why am I here
why isn't everyone there
there isn't even a phone...
And does anybody ever demand the right to know less?
but...
shhhhh
Can you know less when you're holding the baby?
How long 'till the dream comes again?
'till the morning comes?
'till the sun shines?
I'll sit here
alone in silence
waiting
waiting
the night is so long
the darkness so deep
'till the morning comes
'till the sunrises
I'll stay here
waiting for the dream
thinking
thinking
the night is my canvas
the darkness my mind
'till the morning comes
And as the sun rises
I rub my eyes
I'm tired
I'm confused
morning brings reality
morning brings the truth
the truth is the day
but the day brings the night...
'I'm still here'
Waiting
waiting
'till the morning comes
'till the sun shines
I'll sit here
alone in silence
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhhh
who's holding the baby now?
And the rain poured
and poured
and poured in my head
and the dark veil descended
I swam deeper
and deeper
had anyone been this deep before?
And in the impenetrable darkness I saw many things
but none of them had shapes
so...
though I learnt so much
I discovered there was many
many
many more things to learn
I didn't have time to learn them though as the current was to strong
and it pulled me back
and back
and back towards tomorrow
until I lost sight of all those yesterdays...
Maybe I'll swim that way again?
Whale watching in dreams
eyes open wide
my eyes
his eyes
thoughts like gunshots
rapid fire
bang
bang
bang
Spock would be proud
child raising mind meld
'my mind to yours
your mind to mine'
and the thoughts streamed in the dream
and...
I dream of hope
and hope for dreams
what other flavor is there?
Sea breezes
September morning
the salt air in my heart
the lonely rush
the loudest hush
the day wants to start
and you are in the waves
and you are in the sky
I'm reaching for the sun
sometimes I sink
sometimes I swim
can you still see me?
I'm sitting here
Hello
Hello
I have flown before
I have phoned before
and you didn't answer
you are in the waves
you are in the sky
I'm reaching for the sun
I'll walk much further yet
I'll walk again
and if the sun shines
it will never rain
but maybe...
but maybe...
Sometimes I sink
sometimes I swim
and on Wednesday morning
I'm leaving the cliff top
for better or worse...
Yesterday...
Yesterday...
This is about the past
This is about ghosts...
Yesterday someone sent me an e-mail
A friend from a long time ago
and in the e-mail was a picture of Sharon...
Sharon was my girlfriend
no
she was more than that
way more than that
she was part of me
I was part of her
we were one person
one identity
one entity
one being
we were...
more than can be described
we were happiness...
Her parents were not that happy about us in the beginning
I was the wrong sort of guy
with the wrong sort of history
but over time they saw us
they could understand
who could argue when they saw us?
We worked so well together
and so they brought me into the family
I belonged...
Although we were both very young we still lived together
we were happy
we were never apart
some people talk about freedom and space in relationships
but we didn't need that
nor want it
we were inseparable...
Sharon's family were a nice family
respectable
honest
hard working
except for her brother
he'd been in a bit of trouble
(I guess that's one of the things that clouded her parents view of me in the early days)
he'd got involved in drugs
who hasn't?
but he wasn't in control
they were in control of him
and his habit led him into other worlds of theft and thuggery and he was
and he was now living in bail accommodation awaiting trial
but it was a close family
so every weekend we would drive out with a parcel for him
we didn't like to take him money or valuables as we knew where that would lead but we would
take him essentials like food and clothing and other things
We'd drive out on a Sunday morning
give him his parcel and then either take him out for a drive and something to eat or,
if the drugs were making him less sociable, leave him to do his own thing...
The building was pretty drab and the men only policy meant that Sharon had to wait in the car
while I went and knocked on the door, it was a bad 'hood so I was never to happy about this
but I dutifully did my thing
Sharon and I never argued
we were to busy being happy...
This Sunday I walked over to the building and found her brother in a very nervous way
he was like this often
he'd get himself into debt or trouble and then get very fearful so I went inside to talk for a
while
I listened for 5 minutes
10 minutes
15 minutes past
and then he finally asked me for some money
I knew it was coming
I knew I shouldn't but...
As I gave him his parcel I slipped over $20 as well...
and then, feeling guilty, I left...
How do I write the rest of this?
I don't have the words to say things...
I walked outside and saw the car on fire
Sharon was inside beating on the window and I rushed over to try and open the door
my hands were burning on the handle but I pulled and pulled and...
I couldn't do it
I tried
I tried so fuckin' hard
I tried like it was my life at risk...
It all gets a bit crazy after that
I was pulled away from the car
hit a few people and ran back for another try
only to be pulled away again and held there
watching...
watching the girl I love screaming
crying
burning to death
and I was powerless
and there were people
so many people
and...
fuck drink
fuck drugs
memories give me blackouts...
I thought my way free again
and ran
and ran
and ran...
The next few weeks
(maybe longer, maybe less, time didn't matter...)
I wandered the streets
in and out of consciousness
in and out of drugs
in and out of drunkenness
I got through that
but I never recovered
I never will
a part of me died that day
and I have to carry that death with me...
The whole thing was like a badly edited movie
one moment I would be conscious of running down a street on a hot summers day
my next memory would be running along a cold
wet street at night...
No continuity
great swathes of black broken by brief moments of lucidity and recognition
I was always a runner when I was younger
why walk anywhere when it can be run in a fraction of the time?
But after Sharon...
That running was different
that was aggressive
angry
destructive
and it dripped in and out of reality
sometimes I'd wake up to see a face in mine
or the inside of a bar
or to find myself lying on a mattress with a needle by my arm
Sometimes I'd wake to find myself in a scene of violence
sometimes I'd just wake to the rain soaking me as I lay in the street
screaming out
I was filled with insanity
and desperation
I was trying to out run reality
and you can't do that
That movie?
The Superman one where he flies so fast around the world to turn back time to save Lois Lane...
That's what I was trying to do
but I wasn't fast enough
I wasn't good enough...
Times moved on now
It hurts still
it always will
but I can cope now
although I don't know if I will ever be fully cleansed of back then
part of me will keep on running in a desperate attempt to return paradise to me...
And then...
then I get this e-mail
with a picture of Sharon...
and it wasn't even her
it was just...
a two dimensional image on a piece of plasticised paper
that's not her
she was real
she was life
she was my love
a photograph is a stranger
but that picture...
it brings back the memories
so...
so I write part two
something to stop my mind from thinking...
The haze of tiredness
head weary from living
one thousand nights
of existence
stories taken
stories given
crossing paths of strangers
in daylight
in night light
to humble dwellings
of insular existence...
Holding on to the dream
woken at sunset by the sound of a silken sheet crashing against the sky
azure heavens
fractured by sunlight
gone is the night
The clock ticks on
but time is frozen
etched upon the surface of my brain
like an old song...
Do I like the song?
Does it matter?
My mind shows no sign of prejudice towards this tune...
'I have no inclination to go to war!'
The ocean takes no interest in my words
the sea always listens
but it never hears me
she is selfish
wrapped up in her own importance
so much as I love the ocean I find her an unsatisfying mistress...
'Who holds the baby now?'
I can't help thinking
'Even Hitler had a mother!'
Weep fair maiden
shed your crystal tears
for the dark clouds are streaming across the skies...
A thunderous roar
A flashed smile
Cool September mornings fight to break summers spirit
but I know my love will come again
The cycle rolls on
Let me kiss your breast afore you go
let me weep once more before you go...
'Who hears the words of your bastard son?'
Like the reformed addict who's still in love with the junk
I know I can not live without you
you're out there somewhere
love me
love me...
After Vancouver
(which I'm not done with yet)
came Seattle
a one night stand before greyhound was to take me through many states to my Michigan dream
I slipped out the back door of the hotel
I felt I had to
a 12 hour phone call was something I could not afford
so I figured the back door check out was the best option
they'll live without my money...
The station was two blocks up the road so I wandered up there in no time
it was a non smoking venue so I stopped outside to have a cigarette before checking in
smoking is important
maybe essential to me
whatever...
I smoke
and am unwilling to not smoke just because some one else orders it...
A guy in a Black Lincoln asked me if I had a spare smoke
I gave him one
and we talked shit for ten minutes
I could say it was interesting
after all it turned out we'd met before in Europe a few years earlier
but to be honest the guy was a bore
and I was glad to get away
but then what do you expect?
Any guy that views a greyhound station as a place to meet people and socialise probably isn't
going to be that exciting...
I was lost in the wind that day
hidden secrets and thoughts carried on cool jets
but my turned up collar hid my thoughts from the world...
Most of my time was spent reflecting on the call the night before
I had spent 12 hours talking to the girl from Michigan
that was a promising sign...
I've always dreamt while sleeping
whilst awake
in deep clear oceans
where I never drown
alone with my history...
You don't have to see me
to notice me
you can just step past me
dribbling in my corner
shouting out
"The pillow is a horse -
the flag is a peach"
Just wheel me in the day room
after breakfast
I'm happy there
lost in the fog
calling out
calling out
I don't need to be alive
as long as I can fool the agents
the machine
I'm happy there
you don't have to say hello
to look at me
to stop and care
you can just step past me
dribbling in my corner...
And the door shuts
the key turns in the lock
and the lights are extinguished
except for the glow
of their intrusion
and you are left lying there
alone in that place
with only your thoughts as company
and you think
and you slumber
and you dream
and then you wake again
trying to desperately hold on to the dream
only to see it shattered by the waking reality of your location
and so it goes on
and on
another day rolls into another night
I used to dream in there
semiconscious dreams
pressed in to my head by the collapsing walls of my stomach
so full of the stuff they give you
and you're only there for observations...
At nights I'd dream of the ocean
I'd dream that I would rise from that place and walk along the shore
walk
and walk
and walk
and walk
on
and on
along the shore
the sun
the sea breeze
the gentle sound of the lapping waves
and I'd walk
and my feet would crunch on the stony beach
as the sun burnt down upon my back
and upon my neck
and I'd have a back pack with me
and it would pull against my back
and my neck
and I'd walk
and walk
and walk
and my feet would ache
as the sun burnt down
and the stones crunched
and the waves lapped
and my mouth dried
it would dry
and dry
and dry
I'd need to drink
I'd need water
and the waves would lap against the shore
again
and again
but there was no water to quench my thirst
and my back would hurt
and my neck was burnt
and my feet ached
and blistered
and burst
and ached even more
as the sun scolded me
and the waves would lap
and I would walk
and walk
and walk
on
and on
along the shore...
I painted a lot while I was there
about 10 or 15 paintings a day
they were all seascapes
all painted from my dreams
surreal visions of...
My sister wrote me a poem about the ocean
she knows how attached I am to it...
I think her poem is beautiful
You remind me of the ocean
so free
yet so trapped
in miles
and miles
but angels
everywhere
are watching over you
everywhere
you ever go
even if you don't know
you remind me of the ocean
drowning in words
words you've heard
from people you know
crying inside and out
but not for show
no one knows
you're drowning
but still you're sounding
normal
like always
you remind me of the ocean
you don't moan like human
you moan
like you've been tossed
and thrown
on your own
made of stone
you moan
from heart
from the start
you've been torn apart..
thrown off the chart
you remind me of the ocean
its wild and free
and loud and tossed
but no matter what
I love the ocean
I love you
Beautiful don't you think?
I'm so proud of her
I'd be proud of her at any age
but to write that at 12...
My Sis is the best...
I demand!
I demand!
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhh
who's holding the baby?
know more?
no more...
and I've you've ever seen a Wednesday morning...
Well you know
we know
the world knows Wednesday mornings...
I had a dream once
well I've had a lot of dreams
but...
This dream was different
just like all the others
eyes open wide
the sunlight of tomorrow streaming in
and I asked myself
'which twin is different,
which one identical
which one an island
in my mind?'
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhhh
Who's holding the baby?
And a left
and a right
and jab
jab
jab
a right cross
and the champions on the ropes
better or worse?
on crack?
on his back?
Over 75% of dead people never live again
and the others?
So I had this dream
eyes open wide
my eyes
his eyes
thoughts like gunshots
rapid fire
bang
bang
bang
Spock would be proud
child raising mind meld
'my mind to yours
your mind to mine'
and the thoughts streamed in the dream
and...
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhh
Who's holding the baby?
In the beginning
in a beginning
two weeks ago
near the end of this story
I recreated...
I retraced...
I...
I awoke
arose
walked from the house
down the road
along the winding path
to the beach
to thoughts of summer
'Drink up my friend
the bar is closing...'
The tide was going out
the salt hung in the air
wind whipped up the waves
and I turned north
and climbed the coast path
to the cliffs edge
looking out over the oceans beyond
and I sat upon a rock
and dreamt
my dream within my dream
within a dream
within a dream
but the dream had changed
the ships had gone
the shark swam in different waters
and the wooded valley was a tiny winding path
and the little shop had closed
and was now just a house...
People talked politics
instead of laughing
and I was old...
The girl in the bar loved me
but she didn't love me enough
only in my mind
but my mind is full of dreams
and the dreams are always changing...
The barman wanted to serve me with more than drinks
but I'd drunk to much already
and I wore a bright green shirt that I'd bought as someone else
and the sea kept on rolling
and the cliffs still stood and watched
but summer had gone...
Funny...
(as in strange)
those words were from near the beginning of this story,
I wrote them to the girl in Michigan
based on memories of a place I knew
and they were mirrored when I flew into the UK
as I returned to the place
and the words were still true
(even found the old green shirt tucked away in the cellar of the bar,
don't ask how it got there...)
and...
that was two weeks ago
the end of the story
a complete circle
unplanned
but...
It was all a different dream though
so is it relevant?
Only the ocean links it all..
The beach is still there
my beach
my world
and the Irish landlord
he'll serve you drinks anytime
anytime I tell him
day or night
we're open
and...
why am I here
why isn't everyone there
there isn't even a phone...
And does anybody ever demand the right to know less?
but...
shhhhh
Can you know less when you're holding the baby?
How long 'till the dream comes again?
'till the morning comes?
'till the sun shines?
I'll sit here
alone in silence
waiting
waiting
the night is so long
the darkness so deep
'till the morning comes
'till the sunrises
I'll stay here
waiting for the dream
thinking
thinking
the night is my canvas
the darkness my mind
'till the morning comes
And as the sun rises
I rub my eyes
I'm tired
I'm confused
morning brings reality
morning brings the truth
the truth is the day
but the day brings the night...
'I'm still here'
Waiting
waiting
'till the morning comes
'till the sun shines
I'll sit here
alone in silence
I demand the right to know more, but...
shhhhh
who's holding the baby now?
And the rain poured
and poured
and poured in my head
and the dark veil descended
I swam deeper
and deeper
had anyone been this deep before?
And in the impenetrable darkness I saw many things
but none of them had shapes
so...
though I learnt so much
I discovered there was many
many
many more things to learn
I didn't have time to learn them though as the current was to strong
and it pulled me back
and back
and back towards tomorrow
until I lost sight of all those yesterdays...
Maybe I'll swim that way again?
Whale watching in dreams
eyes open wide
my eyes
his eyes
thoughts like gunshots
rapid fire
bang
bang
bang
Spock would be proud
child raising mind meld
'my mind to yours
your mind to mine'
and the thoughts streamed in the dream
and...
I dream of hope
and hope for dreams
what other flavor is there?
Sea breezes
September morning
the salt air in my heart
the lonely rush
the loudest hush
the day wants to start
and you are in the waves
and you are in the sky
I'm reaching for the sun
sometimes I sink
sometimes I swim
can you still see me?
I'm sitting here
Hello
Hello
I have flown before
I have phoned before
and you didn't answer
you are in the waves
you are in the sky
I'm reaching for the sun
I'll walk much further yet
I'll walk again
and if the sun shines
it will never rain
but maybe...
but maybe...
Sometimes I sink
sometimes I swim
and on Wednesday morning
I'm leaving the cliff top
for better or worse...