(no subject)

[diogenic]

January is a cruel mistress
and she demands that you move quickly from one point to another
but when you reach each sanctuary she tempts you to enjoy the warmth's held there
this journey will be a long one
each step taken quickly
but with long pauses between strides
next stride will probably be Chicago or Detroit
but then again I said Vancouver
and got to Cleveland
and I said south from there
and here I am in Toledo so...
who knows what way the dice will fall next time?

I'm wondering when the next chapter will begin
I'm in the pause between chapters right now
(I think)
but any moment something will happen to suck me back into life...
I'm kinda hoping for a new sister
I like adopting sisters along the road
I like to dream I'm an angel there for them
although an angel works for nothing
I give them all I can
but there's a price
I require a little sunshine in return...

I love cinema
but it's a pale imitation of the real thing
Life is infinitely more strange than fiction...

Blinding light
of not so bright
celluloid silver
I can never be your slave
for I have seen
a thousand dreams
that make you pale...

Long time wonder
asleep through thunder
dreaming yesterdreams
an eye open to the past
another closed
to all the dirt
I've ever known
hiding from a nightmare
the world has shown
exists in darker corners
than our imagination

Quiet
anticipation
standing on cold highways
waiting for the dam to burst
and with it waters flood
and carry me
ever onward
through valleys of dreams
to wherever I'm going...

Things didn't seem to matter to much at the time
if I remember correctly
I was talking a lot
at that time
to a girl from Michigan
and it was kinda comforting being south of her
not to far away
I kinda hoped for an invitation up to meet her
but I would never ask
it's not my style
I come with to much baggage
so I only go where I'm invited
I never ask
it isn't fair...

'Circular motions
of rambled nothings
moving nowhere
saying nothing
talking just because it's dark
and I don't want to be alone...

What is all but rays of light
a giant hologram
of our imaginations
hard light
and dark nights
of whatever is
and can be?

Farandinos
is that a word?
it should be
Farandinos
it has a Latin ring to it...

Where you live do you get to listen to any sounds
as you lay in bed at night
eyes closed in the dark?
I like to listen to the sounds of the night
the sounds of man or the sounds of nature...
either or...
crickets
trains
laughter
rain
I love the comfort of sounds
it tells you that you're still alive
I like to know that out there is a million things
an endless stream of props
for the imagination
to weave countless dreams
of varied textures

Design faults of god

(an occasional series - Part 17)

Night...

God made a mistake in the design of night
it was designed so you could look out at beautiful stars
a good thing
it was also made so that you could listen to the rain at night
a good thing also
but...
it wasn't really made so that you could combine the two
you cannot really watch the beauty of the night whilst enjoying the beautiful
but sad
music of the rain...
What do you think?

I can't believe I still think about it to be honest...
this all stems back to a priest when I was...
to small to matter...
maybe 5 or 6?
The priest said to me
(and a couple of people)
that the proof that there was god
and the proof that he was perfect
was in the design of nature
and to prove this he made everyone paint pictures of landscapes
and before we painted he made us pick alternative colors for everything
and then picked fault in everyone's work
proclaiming that god was god because he had made the right choices
and we'd all picked stuff that looked stupid
I challenged his theory
and he asked me to point out any design faults I saw in gods plans...
ever since
in occasional moments of peace
or boredom
I sit and ponder his challenge
and try to find design faults in nature...

I never let challenges like that pass
they stick with me forever
another one I play with is...
well there was this social services person who declared

'well if you think society is so wrong what would you do instead'

which is one of the sort of questions that really annoys me...
society has had 1000's of years of evolution to come up with it's rules and systems and yet
the person being asked the question is expected to answer in 5 seconds with an entire
alternative...
that's not a debate...
anyone can pick holes in a society designed in seconds flat...

as well as searching for design faults in gods plan
to prove a point to a priest I'll never talk to again
I also spend time designing an alternative society based on a LOT of thought
and making sure it's genuinely workable...
genuinely workable is important...
it's been the weak spot of many theoretic philosophies
communism is a prime example
it's a nice notion
the one where society protects everyone
and gives us all a fair chance
and an equal start point but...
man is naturally greedy
(or should I say competitive to sound less rude?)
and so equality is impossible...
all men are not the same...

Fucking social workers!
I know they are probably doing a good job
but it never worked out for me...

And again
and the lights went out
and I came to in black and white

And again
and the lights went out
and I came to in black and white

And the deep red of my blood against the black floor tiles told me it was not going well
I dragged myself up onto my hands and knees just in time to see his boot arriving
and the lights went out

This time I didn't come a round so quickly
I don't know how long I lay there but it was getting dark when I woke up
I ached all over
fuck I hated that bull
who gave him a job like that
he was cold
sadistic
didn't it show in interview?

I stood up
holding onto my bed at first
and my side
I must have taken a few kicks to the ribs while I'd been out as my side hurt like crazy
and I stumbled across the dormitory and out into the corridor
there was a couple of guys sitting out there
but they wouldn't look at me
if you can't see it
it never happened
that was one of the rules around here
they wouldn't see me again until I was all right
I walked slowly down the corridor and into the shower room
turned on the shower and stepped in
I hadn't bothered to get undressed
I wasn't that alert yet
and besides the water wasn't going to be anything but cold
the water was always cold
I stood there for a while
5 minutes?
10 minutes?
I don't know
just long enough to stop crying
the shower was the place to cry
it never shows up to much against the flowing waters
then I got out
I walked across to the mirror
I looked a mess
I might have just stood in the shower for 10 minutes but there was still dry blood caked to my face
I stood looking at myself in the mirror
my reddened eyes
my bruised face
the caked blood
and then I scrubbed at my face
to remove the dry, flaky evidence
I scrubbed hard
I wanted to hurt more
I didn't want to feel good
feeling good might make me feel it was OK

I searched around my dorm for something to wear
it was Tuesday and laundry day was Wednesday so most of what I had
(which wasn't much)
stunk like a skunk
but I managed to find something
I pulled it on over my aching body and climbed out the window

Jim's place wasn't to far from the kids home
and it was a place that most of us knew
our local dealer
gave us an alternative to the grime and time spent in the...
there's no words to describe that place
it was a place of evil
I never understood those that actually liked it there

I remember the first time I became aware of an institutionalised person it was this guy Harris's last day
he'd been there from age 7 to age 18 and now they couldn't let him stay any longer
law said he had to go
but it was all he knew
he'd never even really left the place to socialise at all
I mean we got these passes so that we could go out sometimes but I never saw Harris use one
and there he was
suddenly faced with the great out doors
and he burst in to tears and hung on to the gate
screaming and crying that he wouldn't leave
in the end he had to be ejected by force
I think I was about 10 at the time and I swore I'd never get like that
how could anyone love that place?
But I guess if it's home
if it's all you know
then you can love it
you can love anything under those circumstances...

I saw Harris years later
I was in this bar
he walked in and bought himself a small beer
stood at the bar
talking to no one
then he looked across at me and smiled
I said 'hi'
he said 'hi' back
and then said
'they were good days...'
I smiled
I thought they were hell
but why shatter his dreams?
we talked a little
not much
it was clear he was clumsy around people
and I could tell from the few things he said that he was still hanging onto those gates
he still wanted to get back in and he'd never really settled in the real world
or maybe that was the real world and he could never settle for this pale imitation...

Anyway...
I wandered down to Jim's and asked him if he had any grass
he told me he was out of the stuff but he had a little acid
hmmmm....
I thought
that will do me
He asked if I'd ever tried it before
I said yes
he said bullshit
and he was right
so he gave me half a tab to be going on with
I went and sat out on the field

I sat and talked with some of the guys for a while
and we laughed a little
but...
no high
so after about 15 minutes I walked back to Jim's and he said sorry
must be a weak batch
and gave me another tab
I took that
it did the trick...

I never really understood what was going on
there was times in the past when it might have made sense to me
but all I saw was the strangeness of the night
the coolness
the darkness
the reaching
grabbing hands of trees that leant over the road
wanting me
but strangely never taking me
and time was twisted
and space was twisted
and I took a step back
and the top of the hill shot off into space
a million miles away
and I took a step forward
and the top of the hill was there
I could see for miles
and I took a step back again
and it was gone again
forward
backwards
forward
backwards
and I laughed
and looked around
for other toys to play with
my eyes wandered one way
my mind another
I spied a bicycle against a wall
it was a Christmas vision
the frost crystals of the night sparkled on the bike and made it look like a gift
THE gift
I stood in awe
and wondered
and for a moment I was young
so very young
and my history was different
and then my concentration was broken by a passing car
and I looked
I watched
the car kept coming
and coming
and coming
slowly creeping down the street
it's tyres like black feet creeping down the road
and then it was beside me
and a thousand distorted faces stared from the window at me
were they laughing
crying
calling to me?
and then...
like a rocket it was gone
up the hill
faster than...
and I stepped back
and the hill retreated once more
and I turned about and walked in the other direction
the trees leant over the road
their grabbing hands reaching for me
but never got me
I waved at them
and sang them a song
or a million songs
distorted
flowing
growing from one to another as I left the road and wandered across the paisley fields that lay before me
I wasn't tired
I wasn't tired
and there was no reason for the day that had been
or for tomorrow
only reasons for now
I stood for a while and watched the patterns on the leaves
as the changed for me
in kaleidoscope games
one minute cowboys rode across the green vista
next moment winged horseman flew out
like crazed butterflies
dark butterflies
and all the time my mind was wandering from one place to another
but never to here
or now
here or now was so weak
so flat
I was wandering in new dimensions
old dimensions
I was wandering somewhere
nowhere
I was
I wasn't
I felt the mind flowing
juices
swishing round my brain
and I walked on
in awe
in wonderment
I never really understood what was going on
there was times in the past when it might have made sense to me
but it was a strange
strange
night
and one I wouldn't trade
I had journeyed to a new place that night
one I would never fully leave again
I walked the full length of that night
viewing
learning
living
dying
before climbing back through the window of the children's home before dawn
I lay down upon my bed
and closed my eyes
I didn't sleep
I just waited to be woken
I knew the day would start the same as any other day
but that I would be smiling
as I would be seeing it differently...

It was a crazy couple of days after that
I took many trips to Jim's to trip out
a seed had been sown in my mind
things had to change
things had to be different...

and...
and...

It was 8:00pm if I remember correctly
and we were bored
we were all sat in the corridor
the music system was there
so it was a place we often congregated
and we were just talking
and smoking
(another reason for hanging in the corridor)
it was just another average
boring night in a children's home
nothing happening
and nothing likely to happen
if the plan went as expected we would sit there till about 9:30
have a hot drink
then go to bed at about 10:00
wow
the thrill of it all
the non stop excitement and...
somebody put a record on
it was Queen
I'm not a great Queen/Freddie Mercury fan
but I didn't have any records
and some music is better than no music
we sat and talked a little more
smoked a little more
and wore a way a little more of the night

'I want to break free'

I didn't
well...
I did
I didn't like it here
but I had nowhere to go
so...

The new guy came across to see me
that was pretty rare
new guys didn't usually approach me so early on
it was a kind of unwritten rule
you cowered in the corner for a few days
(unless you had designs to be top guy)
so I was a little nervous as he came across

'Do you?'

He asked

'huh?'

'Do you want to break free?'

Well...
I could only say yes
everyone always talked about escape and things
you couldn't really say no
it would make you sound bad
so...

'yes'

it was my only possible answer

'So lets do it...'

I laughed
this new guy had balls
I liked that
I liked him
I didn't know his name but he had a certain sort of flaky cool about him
so...
I thought why not

I want to break free was still playing
it added an element of cool and drama to the situation
escape for the MTV generation
do it to music
this was going to look cool
no planning
no late night slipping out of windows
just plain walking out the front door to music
could you ever get cooler?

So I stood up
turned to the others
and said

'OK we're going
catch you some other time'

They all looked at each other
this was crazy
first silence
then whooping
we were going out big style...

Me and...
you know
I never knew his name then
and I still don't know it now
but me and the guy walked out the door
across the yard
out the gates
and down the road
we could hear the others screaming and yelling at us as we went
we were heroes
we'd just entered legendary status
we could do with them shutting up
this was going to attract every bull in the kids home
but we didn't say a word
image was everything

We got to the corner of the road
turned it
so we were out of sight
and then ran
cool was now no longer on the menu
we'd done it the dumb way and now we had to run
we ran
and ran
and ran
until we reached the edge of town
and then we dived into a field

we stayed low in the field for a while
we figured to let our pursuers get passed us
let them look up ahead
let them widen the circles
lose the scent
whilst we sat in a dark field

I guess we waited until about ten o'clock
watching the cars shoot pass
listening to sirens
laughing at the stupidity of the adults
we were gonna do this
we were the best
we were young
(and stupid)

By about Ten it was getting kinda cold
I secretly regretted this already
it was to unplanned
to cavalier
to stupid
but I couldn't give in
people expected
so cold was going to be something I lived with

We set off across country
we figured it was safer than roads
so we walked and walked
across bumpy fields
tripping and stumbling as we went
in the ever colder night

'Scarecrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

OK
scarecrows probably aren't that exciting
but it had a fucking big black coat on
and it looked warm
so I ran across the field
I grabbed the coat and went to rip it off the 'crow
but the farmer must have tied it on or something as it didn't come right off as expected
instead me and the 'crow went flying to the ground
where we wrestled for a while
he got the first couple of moves
(damn I'm glad we didn't have a camera with us
I could imagine the embarrassment of a permanent record of me coming off worse in a fight with a scarecrow)
but gradually I wore him down and got the coat
I put it on
... said we should share
take turns with the coat
by I convinced him to take the scarf and be happy

And we walked on
and on
and on
I figure we walked at about 4 or 5 miles an hour
we were striding out
and keen to escape the area
so I figured by the time the sun rose at about 6:00am we had walked somewhere between about 35 and 40 miles
so I was pretty pissed when we hit a town and found a sign pointing back toward the town we'd come from saying that it was only about 25 miles away
I know the speed we'd been walking at was about right so it meant we'd walked about 10 or 15 miles in circles at some stage during the night

To those back at the children's home this escape probably seemed cool
but it was working out far from being that way

On the edge of town was a used car lot
we decided to poke around and see if there was anything there worth having
we had about 3 smokes left
no money
and we were hungry
theft seemed like a good idea
so we walked around the building until we found a small window at the back
we figured it was the bathroom window
it didn't matter what window it was
but it did matter that it was partly broken
... climbed up on a few crates and told me he could open it
he did open it and slid inside
I heard a crash
which was obviously him landing on the other side
and then moments later the rear door opened

We were conscious that it was light already
so we didn't want to stop to long in the building
so we began a quick but thorough search of the premises
... soon located a small amount of cash
and I found a pack of smokes with about 8 or 9 in
seemed like a good haul
and so we decided to get the hell out of there
but just as we were leaving I noticed a small cabinet beside the door...

'so can you drive?'

I asked ...

'Yeah'

'OK, lets leave this place in style...'

I smashed the glass at the front of the cabinet
which seemed like a dumb thing to do
as when I hit it the door flew open
it hadn't been locked
but hey...
it was 6:00am
I was tired
we grabbed a whole bunch of keys and went out onto the forecourt
we picked a car
tried several keys
and eventually found the right group
started the car
and drove off...

Now we really were moving
25 miles soon became 50
soon became 100
we were miles away
past several towns
through counties
even if they picked us up now
they wouldn't know who we were
or where we were from
and if they did
if they sent us back
fuck we'd be legends
we'd really gone and done it this time...

.... wasn't that good a driver
but he got us into the city
we got to an intersection
and the car died...
I figure it was gas
but who knows
all I know was we soon had a line of irate drivers behind us
honking horns and...
well...
it wasn't a good scene
so we got out the car
and ran
.... went one way
I went the other

It's strange
I never knew his name
and we never talked much on our journey
we'd been Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid
but we didn't even know each other
and I never saw him again
I wonder if he remembers me like I remember him
I wonder what happened to him

I ran downtown
I don't know why
but it's where I headed

I walked around the city all day
I was tired
I hadn't slept all night
and I didn't really know what I was doing
I didn't really have a plan
I stopped a few times for food
and ice cream
a hot dog
(I'd kept the money when we'd parted company
it wasn't a planned thing
it's just the way it had happened)
but I kept walking
round and round in circles
over the same roads time and time again
until it started getting dark
I figured
plan or no plan
it was time to find a bed
the money I had wouldn't stretch to a room
so...
I had to find a make-do

I trawled around for a while before I found an old house with a long back yard
the back yard backed onto a busy road
but between the yard and the road was a piece of waste land
just a narrow strip
but private
and mine
I found some pieces of old metal and card and other junk and lashed together some form of primitive shelter and went to sleep...

Next morning I felt more awake
sleep is good
never let your brain fool you otherwise...

I walked away from my shelter that morning and went to explore the area further
I found there was a golf course near to where I was
so I went and hung there for a while
it was spring
and the weather was turning
the day was a warm fine day
and I felt comfortable just laying on the grass with my thoughts
I think I may even have fallen asleep

'are you OK?'

I looked up
there was a woman standing over me

'ummm... yes thanks'

She looked at me closer and handed something to me
I took it and looked
it was a sandwich

'eat this'

I thanked her and she left

This innocent moment soon became a routine
she worked down the street and took her lunch on the golf course
I spent my days there
so everyday we would meet
everyday she'd give me food
some times a small amount of money too
I felt guilty taking from her
but beggars can't be choosers...

This routine went on for days
weeks
I stunk
I hadn't changed
(I had no change of clothes)
and sores were spouting out all over me
my lady friend was worried
she tried to encourage me to see a doc.
but I knew if I did that I would be caught
so I didn't
I would just wake up
visit the golf course
eat
and then return to my shelter to sleep
it was far from glamorous
but I was free
no more children's homes
no more beatings
no more enforced labor...

I wanted to cry a lot
but I was free
was
but...

One morning I heard a noise
I peered out of my shelter
a gun was pointed at my head

'come on out of there kid'

the voice said
it was the cops
my freedom was over
sadly I didn't realise quite how over it was

I was taken to the station
quizzed
and then charged with 8 counts of Burglary
I hadn't done it
but that didn't seem to cut any ice with the court
that night I was in a juvenile detention center

I'd run from one prison straight into another
I wondered if I would ever truly taste the freedom that others knew...

10,000 years later part of me is still asking the same question
will I ever know the world that others see
or will I be eternally caught between the freedom of make shift shelters
poverty and cold
and the prisons of society

I wonder who I would be if I ever found freedom
I wonder who I would be if I ever did escape...

Anyway...
The girl in Michigan?
The invite never came...

silver shadows
of clean cut lines
of miles
and miles
of perfect romance
mirrored in the backs of closed eyes
no surprise
when you dream the script
and every licks
the tender tongue
of your imagination
pure imagination
jewel encrusted fantasy
of you and me
in tender caress
of night...

spirit howls
long lonely tears
but through out the years
we never argued
our time was perfect
in the twilight world
one day I'll never wake
and spend forever with you
a perfect view
no fear of death...

so I trailed on ever westward
I guess south having failed I figured I'd head to places where
I knew faces
and besides I had this romantic notion of being
'the poet that walked over the mountain'
now that was dumb
to walk
and ride
over 2500 miles
to cross the Rockies
and to do that in January
just because you like the sound of a sentence
is really dumb thing to do
winters can be harsh
you shouldn't risk death on romantic notions...

I'm not a million miles away
I'm just walkin' down another road
feelin' tired
and kinda cold
but that ain't a problem
and if it was
would it matter?
so what if the ice rains splatter
into my face
like tears of hell
it's just a way to tell
that I'm still breathing
and if I scream out loud
just ignore me
it's just frustration
and the constant alienation
of another day
and how I walk this way
no matter what the radio is playing
no matter what the TV's saying
cuz that's the way it is...
and everyone's an angel
in there own sweet way
so it ain't so bad
not really

If a dream was currency
then what price the road
that's cold
and empty
'cept the rollin' wagon
on the road to your deliverance
and is a dream a nightmare
when you wake to it
and find it jangling in you pocket
just like every other day
and the records that they play
sound like screams within your mind?

I don't know if I got online much after that
not while I was traveling
so I don't know how much of my journey has been told
not much if I know me
I find telling things like that pretty tedious to be honest
things have changed in this modern age of ours
people bang on about 'The Road'
but there are different roads these days
you have the road of the traveler
and the road of the tourist
anyone can jump in a car and drive for hundreds
or even thousand of miles
and think they are being the ghost of Jack Kerouac
when all they are doing is taking two weeks off work
driving a well driven route
staying in motels
and taking a very basic holiday
like a million other people at the same time
and there's nothing wrong with that
travel is good
and if there imagination wants to put a more adventurous spin on it
then that's good too
if it makes them smile then...
Then there is the other road
the road of necessity
the one traveled without choice
and people see that one as romantic as well
but it isn't
it's just about walking
surviving
staying alive
till you've finished dying...

it got empty
don't it
no fillin' station?
so watcha thinkin'?
you thinked you seen the exit?
think again
that ain't the exit
it just another road
and whappen to the memories
if you trade them short on twenty
for another thought?
Me I'm...
Me I'm...
I ain't dead yet
bird gone took my soul
put it in a hole
but the devil don't dig deep enough...

Paste it up black
on a journey
cuz the road ain't pretty snows
and all the beauty shows
ain't in this state
and the path you take
and the turn you make
and catch you for a twenty
cuz there's always that choice

slide on the hummmmmmmmm
slide on
and if you feel it slipping
find your mind is tripping
keep on sliding
slide on the rhythm of the night
slide on
and if you feel the tears welling
feel emotions swelling
keep on sliding...

Now that is not a sympathy kick
I hate it when some people mistake honesty as wanting sympathy
I don't hate them
I feel sorry for them
I pity them
I pity the fact that they mistake a tale of honesty for a sympathy trip
as they are so far removed from some people that they can't see the reality of it...
Let me try and explain my half baked philosophy...

If I'm sitting in a bar
as I have been known to do
on rare occasions...
and I hear a rich guy going on about how the taxman is beating on his door
with demands for money
I understand that he is relating an experience
in his life
the life he knows
this is a story that relates to people
so he tells it
I might think

'o how unfortunate that his life is not as smooth as he would like'

(or something like that
I doubt I would think it in those exact words
but you get my drift)

But I don't pity him
and he isn't angling for sympathy in a major way
now if a guy with nothing sits there
and talks about how he hasn't eaten
or doesn't have a home
he's not angling for sympathy either
he's just a guy relating his experiences too
and it's sad when people hear either of those stories
or a million other stories
and attack the teller
as it's there fault
not the narrators fault
that it's beyond their perception or empathies...

They have a test in child psychology
(god knows I know this stuff
as they subjected me to everything as a child
haven't they ever considered subjecting kids to childhood's instead?)
which they call the 3 mountain test
and it's used to measure a child's perception
and their ability to see things from anothers perceptive
well some one who mistakes honesty for a sympathy kick
is someone who would fail that test
they only have the ability to JUDGE from their position
and not to see it from the others angle
that's why I pity them...

Anyway...
I'll leave psychology alone at this point
mainly as no one wants to hear my half baked theories
but also as I may well be wrong
what would I know?
Never did get myself educated...

From Ohio I moved west into Indiana and Illinois
probably two very nice states
but from position they were just white
snow covered hurdles
between me and my destination
now I'd made up my mind where I was going I wanted to get there fast
traveling is OK
getting there is better...

Iowa and Nebraska followed equally as quickly
all the way up to Scotsbluff
and there I seemed to hit an impasse
nobody seemed to want to head northwest out of Nebraska...

'what kind of idiot wants to head Northwest into the mountains?'

'this kinda idiot?'

My romantic sentence might have influenced me
but it cut no ice in Nebraska
in Nebraska it was just considered to be very humorous

'hey guys, come listen to this guy, says he wants to go up into the mountains as...
as he wants to be the poet that walked over the mountain'

cue laughter and strange looks...

I finally did get a ride up through Wyoming and Montana
but the people of Nebraska had pissed me off
and I was in no mood to enjoy the ride
that was until I got dropped of by a roadside in Montana
the truck I'd been traveling in was going to Helena
and stopping there
but the driver had a friend who was running out of Missoula
and he'd called him up
and it was arranged that he would pick me up from this place
and take me on the next leg of my journey
now this place was about 40 or 50 miles from where I was dropped
and I didn't need to meet him for about 8 or 9 hours
(they were both skeptical about me making the trek
but I knew ride or no ride I could cover that distance in about that sort of time
you can travel fast when you have too...)
and fortunately I almost instantly got a ride
so I found myself sitting on the side of a mountain
with about 6 or 7 hours to wait
so I sat there
wondering at the beauty
and thinking...

I think the next day I must have got online as I have a vague recollection of posting some story
or poem about the day sitting on the mountain
I couldn't resist it
the mountains were so beautiful
but then there were scars
happens from logging and/or mining
you take away the trees
and then there's nothing to bind the earth with the roots gone
so you get these slips
and that leaves these black scars on the side of the white
snow bathed mountains
very akin to the running mascara left by a women's tears
mountains weep like women...

They took down half the mountain here
can you believe that?
What had taken millenniums to grow
was ripped to pieces in decades
First they took the trees
Then they tore into it for minerals
Knocked it down like children's building blocks
But then the 70's came
and they closed the mountain...
I'm sitting here
looking across at it
dark scars
showing through the snow
like tear soaked
mascara stained
eyes
It really looks like the mountains been crying...

Sitting here there's time to see the world
my ass is cold from snow
but my heart is warm from quiet contemplation
I don't know what they call this place
but someone must have called it home
at least at sometime in history
it's beautiful here
I can't believe that no one would have chosen to live here ever...

My ride eventually turned up
and I slept through most of the rest of Montana...
Don't get me wrong
I'm not being dismissive of Montana
I love the state a lot
but I've done it many times before
and I was tired...
Actually one of my best ever weekends was spent in Montana
there was this lady I knew
and her husband had just died
so I went out there to support her
and to try and help her through her moment of need
except I ended getting more out of it than she did
or it felt that way at least...

I'd not long broken up with this girl
and I went out there
and the love I saw
and the advice I heard
taught me a lot
and her house backed onto the mountains
that helps
to be able to go out back on a night
or early morning
and just look at the mighty work of nature
and to reflect in the peaceful moments
gives you strength
gives you some sort of wisdom
and perspective...

They were a beautiful couple
lived together in the same home all their married life
a home he had built for them
with trees he had felled
it was all about them...

I was standing outside one morning when she brought me out a coffee
and I asked her about the small collection of hand carved wooden animals that were outback on the veranda and she told me
that for the length of their marriage
(some 20 or 30 years)
he would go out and collect bits of wood
and carve these little animals for her
he'd never tell her about it
she'd just come out in a morning
and every now and then
find a new companion sitting there waiting for her
I thought that was beautiful
that was the sort of attention to detail that makes a marriage last...

Anyway...
I crossed into Canada
and was dropped off on the outskirts of Vancouver
the place was still snow covered
and I was cold and tired
and although I still had a few miles to walk
before I hit the downtown area
I felt like I had made it...

Blacker than the roar of thunder
louder than the sound of tears
two thousand tons of granite
metropolis tombstone
I feel the pains of your anguish
in the pit of my stomach
welled up tears
of nitric vitriol
I could be an angel
leather clad
with iron fist
I could be a tornado
whirling in your world
death
destruction
pain
and famine
but...
no one will win this war
it's a new campaign
your rules
are as redundant
as the trench foot
and the bow and arrow
I could be an angel
rain blood
in your eyes
I could give you famine
pestilence
and fear
but...
no one will win this war
can you taste me
can you see me
can you hear me
alone in your memory
eating at your mind
with fiction
and fantasy?
And somewhere...
somewhere in a sky
a blue sky
summer sky
is a butterfly
and I weep for it's wings
gossamer rainbows
beating the drum
beating the drum
and somewhere in infinity
a child cried
and the world stopped turning
to see
to know
to understand
but now the yellow cabs roll
horns sounding
for rush hour
now the factory whirls
machines keep churning
widows heard
but never seen
sounds of sobbing
in a high rise
tower block
all alone
with sorrow
with despair
and...
I'm not even touching day light
and...
I'm not even knowing
the name of your song
I'm just holding on
to a memory
that maybe never existed
and I see the desert
and I hear the thunder
and I feel the icy winds of...
a murder of crows
on an empty highway
dice roll
I stroll
back through my mind
searching for the crossroads
because...
someone
somewhere
sometime
has to know
the smell of napalm
that lives within the soul
of every politician
of every two cent celebrity
in those reality shows
the most unreal thing
on the TV screen
beside the adverts
for...
free...
too...
won?
no one will win this war
can you taste me
can you see me
can you hear me
alone in your memory
eating at your mind
blacker than the roar of thunder
louder than the sound of tears
two thousand tons of granite
metropolis tombstone
I feel the pains of your anguish
in the pit of my stomach
welled up tears
of nitric vitriol...

Some say it started in a desert
along a highway
watched by a murder of crows...
I say it started forever ago in an ocean
with a dream
but we all have our starts
do we have ends?

God knows why I picked Ohio
I guess it was some crazy romantic notion
me and T had always talked about...
dreamt about Ohio
I'd even ran by the name Landon Toledo for a while cuz of the Ohio connection
but me and T were no more
so why Ohio?
It was cold when I arrived
not surprising
January in Ohio is usually cold
they told me it was a mild winter
but mild is always relative
if you've come from somewhere warmer then their mild is cold
if you've come from somewhere colder...
I don't need to go on about climate vagaries do I?
What do I need to go on about?

You ever sit down to write something and find yourself writing something completely different?
Find that your subconscious has taken over and is leading you down other avenues?
C'est la vie I guess...

Can a lie that's whispered ever be softer than the truth?

...and all the flowers
in all the gardens
pale by you...

I remember when I was so young
that I never saw a thing
even when it wasn't there...
I even remember missing darkness

There was a street
that ran alongside the railroad
I used to have to walk it every morning when I was...
so small that ages didn't matter
and every day I walked it different people would be there
usually men
funny men with dirty coats
and long uncombed hair
they used to talk to me
and everyone said I shouldn't listen
but they looked
they listened
they learnt
they knew enough to stimulate
knew enough to titillate
knew enough to sow a seed of...
And now?
Now those mornings are gone
the road isn't even there no more
some fine new condos instead of goods yards
but their spirits live
the men...

You ever lived near the railroad?
I swear the whistle of the train is an illusion
there's ghosts
real ghosts
in the night air
and when they hear the train coming
they hide their screams behind it's whistle
hoping no one will hear their agony
their pain
but I remember hearing it
I remember feeling the cold chill as they touched me
shook me in my bed
as the train whistled passed
calling to me

'wake up
wake up
the world is calling
the world is calling'

and then they'd cry in pain
like a warning
saying

'If you stay
you'll regret
everything
already set
time to walk
or stop for pain
time to walk
forget the rain'

When I remember that old street
that old railroad
I never know how to feel
being small was...
interesting

Ohio wasn't interesting
not at all
but then I have Ohiophobia
an irrational fear of Ohio
particularly Cleveland...
I apologize now to anyone from Cleveland
but that's the way it is
sun never shines when I'm there
only ever headache weather...
It was back in the days
of course
when my life was split evenly between the great outdoor world of reality
and the online super highway
Internet world of...
What was that place?
That place of magic ether where things seemed to be OK
a judgment free world where all the binds and prejudices of reality didn't exist...
So, being has how it was that time
I logged on to the nearest computer for travel advice and to shoot the shit with the
usual suspects.

'head south'

they said

'Florida is good this time of year'

they said

'avoid the winter cold'

they said

So I set out south
but never got there...
it worked for a while
first ride took me south
but after that I was forever chasing rides in the wrong direction
nice enough people
but all heading in the wrong direction
till in the end I was slightly North west of my starting point

I logged off from the net and wandered over to highway 71

'Head south from Cleveland'

the crowd had roared
and ever eager to please
I strove to meet the request
Highway 71 goes south
I thought
so let the journey commence from that point...
I didn't have to wait long
could I have waited long?
I don't know
to concede defeat is easy in January
who wants to be on the road when the road is cold and barren
and the frost is acting like a warning sign
shimmering white message of stay at home...

I picked up a ride almost immediately
a guy pulled over and told me he could take me as far as Brunswick
which wasn't far
and it took me off the highway
but it was a start
and all journeys have to start somewhere
so I poured my half-asleep body into the passenger seat
closed my eyes and rode about 10 miles down the road...
Now it would be nice to paint a romantic picture of old Brunswick
Queen of the road
bringer of dreams
gateway to freedom
but to be honest the place left me flat
and it felt like I still hadn't left Cleveland
it was just another sprawling satellite of the city
I feel sorry for towns like that
they start off with their own identity
but the city creeps in and starts to take control
until it's just a micro-mirror image on the edge
with nothing to offer but miles and miles of accommodation for new comers
those running from the city
from crime
and anyone else who needs an excuse to live in the city
without actually living in it's borders...

I felt a strong urge to leave Brunswick fast
those sort of places aren't my sort of places
I'd rather either be in the city proper
or out there
somewhere in the midst of it's own identity
a rural idyll that is shaped by unique people
not a hive of ants on the outside looking in...
but that's the same with most things in my life
I hate the middle
the middle offers nothing but safety
in the middle we miss everything
we get neither the excesses of the city or of wealth or of revolution
nor do we get the honest earthy feel of the country or poverty or hard work and tradition
so I took advantage of the kind offer from my rides cousin of a lift down the road to Medina
I still had traveled next to no where but at least Medina felt more rural
felt like I'd left Cleveland
felt like I was truly back on the road
and for about 15-20 miles I'd kept the promise of heading south to warmer climes
although it still felt cold as shit to me...
That's a strange one isn't it?
cold as shit?
shit is warm so why do we say cold as shit?
OK...
although it still felt cold as ice to me...
I feel better having corrected that...

I had a late breakfast in Medina
it cost me a couple of flaky stories but it was worth it
the joint looked like a dive but I swear they had an angel cooking in there
but then you always find angels in the least expected places
I wonder how many courses of events she's manipulated with her cooking
putting a warm disposition in the heart of a person that's influenced their day
that's how angels work
they influence
they don't control
they steer us towards...
whatever is their bidding
but leave us freewill and choice...
anyway I thanked my kind benefactor and promised to return one day
(a promise I'm likely to break)
and strode out to the crossroads where I picked up a lift with a couple of teens doing there
cheap Jack Kerouac impressions...
They took me about 50 miles to a place called Norwalk
north west of Medina
OK
you didn't expect everything to run that smoothly did you?
south doesn't have to be south does it?
And the road doesn't have to be quick does it?
so what if I'd spent about 80 miles traveling to a spot 50 miles west of my start point
it was traveling
it wasn't sitting still...
Anyway these Kerouac impersonators make me laugh
get up in the morning
drive 100 miles
then go home
and spend a life dreaming that they hit the road
there's nothing wrong with standing still
they should accept that and enjoy the rides for what they are
I was struggling all the time to hold back laughs as they told me 50 miles of road stories
all centered on the same piece of road
and just like their journeys their stories never got anywhere but back home again
but I'm not a bad guy
and the mess my life has been I'm not in a position to judge so I just laid back
feigned interest and laughed at the places I thought it was appropriate to laugh at...
Why do people always want to be someone else?
why can't they recognize the beauty in them is their individuality
take these two chumps for example
here they were ploughing up and down the highway picking up strangers
a kind act indeed and meeting so many people
with so many stories to hear and learn from
something that is truly good and yet they miss it all trying to be someone that they could
never be...

Whilst at Norwalk I took time out to visit the birthplace of Edison
Nice little place to take the family or some school field trip
it was a break...
From there I hiked up to highway 80
not that far a walk
couple of miles tops
and it gave me time to clear my mind a little
settle in to a more sedate rhythm of life
more sedate than normal bum rhythm?
sure...
why not?
Actually being a bum is very stressful so to escape reality
a thing you live with 24/7
well beyond the normal persons experience is quite a relief

Suggestions for the morning flight path of a butterfly?

You dream of empty days on a highway
floating
cruising
going nowhere
but...
how many heartbeats
and dreams do you think it costs?

Flat line desert
Comatose
between the bright light
and dark night

gang of angels
dressed as crows
a murder by the highway
will they start to fly
my way

sun kissed madness
and for every mile that's walked
a thousand more are traveled
internally
fraternity
of internal screamers

Ever kissed the sky at night
and felt it's cool breath against your mind
like an empty whisper
hollow of hope?
All who cry
travel on that breeze

What is it that screams at us
when we are waking
what is it that pins us to the day?

Does anything mean anything?

glass slipper kissed the mind
of holy fuck
and hear me blind
with every sound
within a whisper
ticking of an iron bell
or is a belle
a bon voyage
of maiden flights
and ghostly nights
of slipped inside a circle
going somewhere
and how many ways are freeways
even if the sign points north
and carries on for never
or ever
turning on the plate
of open comfort
and all that can be said
is mother are you watching
can you hear me?

repeated theme of mother...

I kicked a few poems around in my head
and gave a thought to the Internet
after all if I wasn't by that road side I'd probably be sitting on my ass posting the poems I
was thinking on the net somewhere...
I reckon I kicked out about 30 poems on that short stretch of road
can't say that I remember one of them though...
I started with internal poems
soft like rain in my head
and then the clouds burst and the words came pouring out and my mind couldn't contain them
and I was compelled to recite my improvisations to the listening emptiness of the road
word after word flowed from my body and across the void and into...
space?
I wonder if sound travels eternally
I guess scientists probably know the answer
but if it does I wonder what point in time or space those secret words will meet ears and
whose ears they will reach...

Calling Jupiter or Mars
have you seen the words
I scattered by the highway
whilst out dreaming
if they come your way
then please ignore
my ghastly poetic roars...

I read tomorrow's news today
I saw your smile
beaming from the front page
headline news
a beautiful view
maybe there is hope?

They say there is an ultimate test of friendship or love
they say if you can reveal your secrets to someone
and they stand beside you still
then nothing can shake that relationship

Here is a secret

Please don't ask questions
just be content in knowing that what was was
and what must be must be

It was a hard time
A time of harshness and great darkness
evil had befallen the city that I was living in
and I needed to be hard
and cold
and strong
to survive

People were dying all around us and the air stunk of evil
day never seemed to come
only endless nights...

Now the word evil is gonna have problems for some people
what does it mean?
What is evil
and what is just bad?

Now all I can say to you is that you have to make your own definition
decide for yourself
but when I use the word evil I do not use it lightly
I use it because I believe I am talking about pure evil

I wouldn't say I was a religious type
but...
I'm not an old sceptic who doesn't believe in anything
I saw stuff when I was younger
satanic rites and things that made me KNOW that there are things beyond what we usually see in life
Sometimes when I woke it was dark...
now...
I like the night
and I have no problems with the dark in that sense
but I've never been fully comfortable with a sort of man made darkness...
it's not a fear or a phobia or anything
it's just discomfort...
I'd move around
to try and get a little bit more comfortable
I might have slipped while sleeping
as I'd wake up all cramped
and in a funny position
but I'd try to be quiet
being locked in the closet was a punishment
and I didn't want to prolong my stay...

Dark
Dark
Dark

I wrote my first ever poem in that closet
or the first one I remember making up
based on a nightmare I had in there

The cats in the cupboard
we're in the hall
when the cupboard splits
the cat will eat us all...

I had this vision of this cat in there
breathing heavily
getting bigger
and bigger
and bigger...

I often had nightmares in that closet
but I never said a thing about it
I never let them inside my head

When they'd come to let me out
I'd always be laying there
propped up against the wall
with my eyes closed
faking sleep
and I'd let them carry me off to bed
partly so they couldn't see how I was feeling
couldn't crawl inside me like they did with the others
but partly because it felt good to be carried
to be held
I could pretend it was love...

I remember them having visitors over
I remember them carrying me through the crowded room
my eyes shut tight
but my ears wide open
seeing for me
probing
searching for answers
and they carried me through the room

'Isn't he silly?'

They said

'but so adorable...'

but I didn't want to be adored in that way
I didn't want love to hurt...

I still remember faces from those days
the smiles
they smiled at me
like everything was good
like they were good
I really don't think they could see things
could understand
but I wasn't going to tell them
I was always going to be a blank canvas
survival came through neutrality
flexibility
the ability to change and adapt to what they wanted
I saw where resistance led
I got the closet
I was lucky
somewhere in the deep dark heart of the forest lies resistance
somewhere in the stench of...
how can you describe that smell?
Take a male locker room
mix it with an old folks home
roll in a good portion of fear
and multiply by a million
and maybe
just maybe
you might get a whiff of the forest
of the dark
of...

And no one ever said anything
no one
everything flowed like it was meant to
no glimmer of decisions
no glimmer of conscience
just a black machine
a black organic machine
of damp
of night
of...

I remember the music
quiet
menacing
ancient tunes from inside the very earth
belching forth visions of dark fears

I remember movements
I remember bodies
always bodies
fat bodies
slim bodies
male bodies
female bodies
always...

I remember dreaming that I'd wake up
dreaming that red on black didn't matter
but red on black always matters

I remember they so very rarely screamed
even at the end
quiet zombies
even though I didn't know what zombies are
that's how I see them now
lifeless
soulless
waiting
no fear
no anticipation
no joy
no despair
lifeless and waiting
for red on black
and then the smell of the damp forest

And I remember the closet
I remember waiting for freedom
but knowing that sometimes it was worse on the outside
knowing sometimes it was worse in the light

and they always smiled...

I remember knowing evil
knowing fear
knowing power...

Highway 80 seemed fairly busy and it didn't take long to pick up a ride
in that sense today was a good day...
I got pulled in by a guy hitting the route from Cleveland to Toledo
it was his daily run, there and back
and he was glad of the company
I think he found the road monotonous and far from glamorous
although he had a distant sparkle in his eyes like he was holding onto a dream he'd had once
in the beginning some speck of sense that justified the daily back and forth that masqueraded
as his life...
Well it didn't seem long before I reached here...
Toledo, Ohio
best laid plans hey?
I was told south
so I went south
then kinda slipped east
and ended up at a more northerly point than which I started
and...
always an and...
and I've been to Toledo before...
first thing I did was to hit the bar I went to last time I was here but...
it wasn't the same place
memories never wait in suspended animation for you
I kinda hate that
you leave a place
especially if it's been a good time
and you kinda dream about the whole place standing frozen
awaiting your return
like it will always be the same
and then you get back and the buildings have changed
the people have changed
the atmosphere has changed
and the whole worlds different
might as well be a different place
it's one of the reasons why I don't like to travel back somewhere
or to try to recapture a dream...

Still...
if that bar was a wash out the next one wasn't
I met a few people there
and we talked and hung
and I bummed a few drinks...
I think one of the guys was getting a bit pissed with me
saw me as a freeloader
and maybe I am
they don't see it that way in some places
they appreciate the traveler who strays into their lives
but this guy resented parting with hard earned cash
buying drinks for some hobo
crazy really cuz I could see in his eyes that he was a dead man walking
his life was shallow and empty and anyone was adding color to it
he fed off me
drunk in everything that this crazy stranger brought to him
but his timid fear of change and all things different made his purse strings tighten
Not so true with all of them
not everyone fears new
fears different
That's how come I'm sitting here typing this now...
There was this couple there
Bob and Barbara
kinda straight as they come at first glance
but good people
wholesome people
people born of the earth
who see the positive in everything
see each happening as a means of growth and learning
an experience to be drunk in
they've brought me back here to their home
I figure they'll put up with me for a night or two
I'll trade a warm night and a roof for a few tales of the road
that will enrich their imaginations...
at least I hope it works out that way...

I guess I've spent a lot of time living off other peoples charity
I remember a guy called Graham
I don't really remember that much about how me and Graham connected
I remember the first time I saw him
he was standing on the corner
lighting a cigarette
and these girls were coming across to try and make some sort of move on him
it stuck in my mind because he was so good looking
and the girls were moving on him like they were being drawn by a magnet

Graham was about 6'1" or 6'2"
blonde
well built
but still quite slim
and not to muscular that he looked like a freak
he had the sort of look of a teen surf/pop idol
with the odd touch of the ghetto thrown in
and he wasn't from the ghetto
and that sort of fake dressing down to look bad usually pisses me off
but Graham was so good looking that he could get away with it
and he had this smile
it was like a powerful weapon
when he smiled the girls lusted

I was about 15 at the time
and he was about 16
but even though he was so young every girl
and every woman lusted after him
when he aimed his smile at them
he was simply beautiful
and had the cool to go with it...

I didn't talk to him that day
why should I?
But we hung in the same circles so we often spent time together
even though we hardly talked
that was until one day
it was in the summer
and there was about 6 or 7 of us standing on this corner
just hanging out
trying to be cool
like kids do
when these two guys came across to us
I recognised them from Compton
they were bad
and everyone knew it...

The two guys approached us
one carrying a gun
the other a small hammer
and they sort of said something to us
I really can't remember what they said
or what the conversation was about
I think they were looking for someone
or something
and were trying to intimidate us into helping them

Now I know a lot of people out there might thing 6 against 2
why the big deal
but a couple of the group were girls
and 4 against 2 isn't so cool when the two are armed
and besides these were big guys
men
and we weren't
but we stood our ground
me at the front
and Graham beside me
there was no violence
but we didn't back down
and I don't know if it was the adrenaline high of that incident
or something else
but from that moment on there seemed to be a bond between me and Graham
a bond that grew stronger with every day that passed

I wasn't the toughest guy in the group of us that used to hang around back then
there was maybe 25 or 30 guys
and 25 or 30 girls who hung around together on and off
and I would doubt that I rated above maybe 15th strongest
but I some how found myself as sort of unelected leader of the group
I know if Ruebens or Stallion had challenged me I couldn't have done anything to defend the position
but life is not just about muscle
I think the reason I'd been selected was that I was always around
I lived on the street
the others just hung out there
so whenever anyone had a problem and wanted to get away from home
I was there for them
day or night
I was the one constant of the street
so I figure I maybe had some respect or something because of that
I know a lot of the gang liked me because I'd been there for them at various times
when they'd snuck out at 2 am
or 3 am
because Dad beat them
or their brother abused them
or school sucked
or just because the street was addictive
I don't know
you'd have to ask them...

Graham came from a good home
his dad ran his own business
and I think the family was quite wealthy
but because of the bond between us Graham started spending more and more time with me out on the street and we became like a pair
if you thought of one of us
you thought of the other
we were almost inseparable
spending our time together 24/7 whatever we were doing
be it chasing girls
earning money
or just hanging out

I felt a little guilty at first
cuz in the early days I was earning from a dubious source
and I didn't want to drag Graham down with me
but that was soon over
and the guilt subsided

I remember the last day of earning
we had to rob this place
to get some information
and our payment was whatever else we could carry out of the place
which was computers and a desk on wheels
me and Graham climbed on to the desk
lashed the computers to it
and rode the desk all the way back to our neighborhood
and this was in the middle of the day
I think we caused quite a stir
theirs gridlock enough in the city without making room for idiots riding desks...

Like I said
we were getting on great
but Graham wasn't used to the street
so he was worried about seeing me sleeping in the sort of places I was
and so he invited me to move into his moms car
I appreciated it
and moved in
but our nights were late
and having to wake early to get out of the way of his mom
so that she didn't know I was sleeping there
was quite hard
so I soon moved back to the disused swimming pool for a while

That summer was special
it was perfect
we spent all our time together
hanging out
getting in to everything
I was happy
it felt good...

I was always a runner when I was younger
why walk anywhere when it can be run in a fraction of the time?
I remember me and Graham and two girls went down to the beach
we were young
we were guys
we had expectations
and the girls gave us hope
we had a good night on the beach
much laughing and joking
and the odd smoke to chill us out
and then the girls suggested we went swimming
well...
we had nothing to wear
but that idea made the suggestion appeal to us even more...
So...
Well Graham and I stripped off
ran towards the ocean
turned around to see our beautiful dates in all the glory that nature intended
only to be let down by the sight of them climbing into the car and driving off with our clothes
We had to run home about 3 miles
totally naked
totally embarrassed
Every time a car came past we would try to hide our embarrassment
but there was no where to hide
so we were greeted by catcalls
and laughter instead
it was the early hours of the morning
but believe me
try running naked down the road and you'd be surprised how many vehicles get out that time of night...

We eventually got back to Grahams house
it seemed the logical place to head for
he lived nearest to the beach
and we snuck around to the back door
gently unlocked it and tiptoed inside
we'd made it

'Hi boys
good night?'

His mom was there
I could have died
I never could look her straight in the eyes again after that...

Waters glisten
cool
inviting
directing you
to summer
praising at you feet
but hiding from four wheels...

summer offered so many alternatives
the list was endless
I'd always loved summer...

I remember these girls...
man...
They were hot...
They'd been down here on holiday that summer
and...
here was Graham with a bona fide letter from them in his hand
we didn't get letters
this was exciting...
And as a bonus the letter said

'Come to Lancaster
come visit...'

How could we resist?
but...
How could we get there?
We couldn't drive
well we could
but last time we had driven the LAPD had taken a bad view of it as we were to young to be doing it within the confines of the law...

Stupid things like that always seemed to bother them
they'd got pissed at me the time we'd gone into town and I'd died my hair with red food coloring and it had rained and all the red had run down my face and I'd laid down in the middle of an intersection
stopping all the traffic as they worried about this bleeding child
what was the problem?
We thought it was hilarious at the time...

And they'd got bugged by our initiation rites which including baring our asses of flyovers to cars below
well you gotta have some sort of entry test don't you?

But...
Well...
We decided that the underage driving wouldn't go down to well if we were picked up again
we'd got hammered by the courts the last time and we figured it was gonna be a long spell of incarceration if stopped again
so how could we get to Lancaster?

Dave...
We could ask Dave
he'd drive us
he was old enough
so we walked down the block to the pay phone and dialled him up

'Could you take us man?'

He wanted to know quite why we thought he'd want to drive us all that way...

'Well they got this pretty friend called Phillipa and she want's to meet you...'

He was hooked
we drove out there that Saturday

Dave was pissed when he found out that Phillipa didn't exist
and even more pissed when Graham accidentally managed to lock his keys in the car...
but we had a good day

Things always seemed sunnier when we were young...

I remember when I was so young
that I never saw a thing,
even when it wasn't there...
I even remember missing darkness...

Things moved on
like the summer itself...

Things started to get a little bad
I got into debt to Stallion
and...
well...
one day he decided to make an example of me
show what happens to people who don't pay debts
so he tried to burn me to death by burning down the disused swimming pool
(I figured to play dead and change my name was smarter than being killed)
incidentally ther