Tuesday 27 May 2008
Time matters not
Excuse the time-line jumpiness of some of the below posts, I found them lost in the dark dusty folders on my 'puter and so stuck them up here since they needed some reason to be.
On the first day of dying..
Oh my god! old age is for real. I don’t know whether to fight it or just acquiesce. What do you do? you wont believe it when it starts to hit you. Its just a dull ache in the wrist and feet. A slight sense of difficulty getting out of bed, something, something in everything. It’s there I can feel it. I am sensitive. It’s just a hint, a whisper of it. but I seen it, felt it. Its not a death, it's just a door that shut while I was asleep last night and now I cant open it. In fact there is no door anymore just a wall. Like someone came in an pasted over it when I wasn’t looking. Like there never was a door. And its one less room I got in my house. One less place I can visit. but I remember there was a door there I am sure.
The sun is setting on a day that did something strange to me but I have no idea what. Beautiful red cloud summer skies, London. The overground train heading home. Harrow. more hell tomorrow but I am not scared only scarred. Youth gone and going. I did it well but not well enough to get to keep it. Got to learn now to adjust to this new way. It’s tough, tough and hard for me. don’t sink too deep that you get lost. Don’t give in so much that you stop. But don’t pretend you still are what you once were. Got to evolve. or maybe devolve. Now more than ever I need to find grace and elegance, panache and sophistication. Don’t let me replace my youth with pigeon eyes, regret and desperation. But don’t let me give up the light, the life, the lust. Oh! the lust. That’s what I will miss the most. My goddess; Lust. Too long calm and peaceful. This degeneration that has hit me today, needs her cure more than ever. Her touch could salve all my fears. Lady Lust. Let me pray to her now. A quiet personal prayer. come save me. come save me please. Don’t leave me to die here on the battlefield of my life. amongst shot and bloody memories. SEND A FUCKING AMBULANCE! I’m alive for christs sake! I am a celebrity get me out of here.
I can feel it in my veins. old age. Don’t believe them, it isn’t natural at all. It’s murder. Life is trying to murder me. Slow poison killing my life force. I feel it. sensitive enough still. blacking me out. trying to. I cant win. like an old git in a nursing home, they are upping the dose but the old bastard lives on. still eventually they’ll get him and have his bed, his air, his space. BASTARDS! life itself turns against you, the air, your blood, something , the spirits. Its that time. Its your time too. read and learn. You are allowed no more than this. You get to where I am. ready for immortality, wise enough that you almost know everything and that’s when it starts to fade out on you, something pulls the plug. They fucking got me. Bastards!
The sun is setting on a day that did something strange to me but I have no idea what. Beautiful red cloud summer skies, London. The overground train heading home. Harrow. more hell tomorrow but I am not scared only scarred. Youth gone and going. I did it well but not well enough to get to keep it. Got to learn now to adjust to this new way. It’s tough, tough and hard for me. don’t sink too deep that you get lost. Don’t give in so much that you stop. But don’t pretend you still are what you once were. Got to evolve. or maybe devolve. Now more than ever I need to find grace and elegance, panache and sophistication. Don’t let me replace my youth with pigeon eyes, regret and desperation. But don’t let me give up the light, the life, the lust. Oh! the lust. That’s what I will miss the most. My goddess; Lust. Too long calm and peaceful. This degeneration that has hit me today, needs her cure more than ever. Her touch could salve all my fears. Lady Lust. Let me pray to her now. A quiet personal prayer. come save me. come save me please. Don’t leave me to die here on the battlefield of my life. amongst shot and bloody memories. SEND A FUCKING AMBULANCE! I’m alive for christs sake! I am a celebrity get me out of here.
I can feel it in my veins. old age. Don’t believe them, it isn’t natural at all. It’s murder. Life is trying to murder me. Slow poison killing my life force. I feel it. sensitive enough still. blacking me out. trying to. I cant win. like an old git in a nursing home, they are upping the dose but the old bastard lives on. still eventually they’ll get him and have his bed, his air, his space. BASTARDS! life itself turns against you, the air, your blood, something , the spirits. Its that time. Its your time too. read and learn. You are allowed no more than this. You get to where I am. ready for immortality, wise enough that you almost know everything and that’s when it starts to fade out on you, something pulls the plug. They fucking got me. Bastards!
Tiger
Where am I?
sat in a room,
the sound of light opera fills the air.
the occasional car going by outside
an early summer warmth, the heating is off,
as is the sun, for it is night.
I sense waves of the invisible around me.
Saw reflections on windows tonight
fancied them to be ghosts of the ancient Chinese art
come to watch progress of what they began and passed down.
The night is calm, my computer hums.
Where are we?
Alive in motion I suppose, orbiting.
Everything orbits,
Even thoughts orbit in the mind’s eye.
a tiger jumps in there, I don’t know why or from where.
It inflates within me and I let it.
Feel its paws in my hands, its soft white-fur belly in my chest.
Tiger, tiger burning bright…
and all that jazz.
What am I?
Destiny was not that strong in me, so I remained a wanderer
merely flirted with the arts
never really becoming passionate for long.
Changing, always, hunting novelty,
wanting to belong but moving on.
Nothing original or satisfying
but not bland enough to be dissatisfying either.
Just mediocre and medium like the rest.
Nothing wrong, but neither is it right.
Tonight I want to change my life,
but tomorrow it will just carry on as was.
Now is not the time to be writing but it is the only time I have got.
Days, long drawn out days watching the clock,
desperate to escape my binds.
No where to run
no way to alter the path of the moving train.
Come alive in me tiger
I beg of you, come alive.
sat in a room,
the sound of light opera fills the air.
the occasional car going by outside
an early summer warmth, the heating is off,
as is the sun, for it is night.
I sense waves of the invisible around me.
Saw reflections on windows tonight
fancied them to be ghosts of the ancient Chinese art
come to watch progress of what they began and passed down.
The night is calm, my computer hums.
Where are we?
Alive in motion I suppose, orbiting.
Everything orbits,
Even thoughts orbit in the mind’s eye.
a tiger jumps in there, I don’t know why or from where.
It inflates within me and I let it.
Feel its paws in my hands, its soft white-fur belly in my chest.
Tiger, tiger burning bright…
and all that jazz.
What am I?
Destiny was not that strong in me, so I remained a wanderer
merely flirted with the arts
never really becoming passionate for long.
Changing, always, hunting novelty,
wanting to belong but moving on.
Nothing original or satisfying
but not bland enough to be dissatisfying either.
Just mediocre and medium like the rest.
Nothing wrong, but neither is it right.
Tonight I want to change my life,
but tomorrow it will just carry on as was.
Now is not the time to be writing but it is the only time I have got.
Days, long drawn out days watching the clock,
desperate to escape my binds.
No where to run
no way to alter the path of the moving train.
Come alive in me tiger
I beg of you, come alive.
Up-tilted erection
I’ve got to try for a new angle
Its all out there in the world
Crazy whores, gambling, guns, drugs, sex, violence
Most times you avoid it but sometimes
You wish you could find it.
It’s a tough thing putting your life in order.
It’s worse still when you succeed,
only to discover boredom is more deadly
than any nightlife poor man’s street hustle, or hunt to survive.
And you sit and watch the TV, not even thinking.
Dressed in an ill fitting suit, slouched in a tired chair
bent by routine into the shape of your ass.
Your wife cooks cheap GM food in the kitchen
and a film of wafer thin adipocre covers your eyes in a glaze.
Your kids are outside getting dirty in the trash,
but you are over, you don’t even drink no more.
Just watch the news with a vacant stare and wait for the football
So you can go to bed and get up again tomorrow and do it all again.
You drift off for a moment and dream of shoving a chrome dildo shaped like a rhino horn up the ass of a prostitute…
Your wife wakes you up with a plate of beef and soggy potatoes
You rest it on your up-tilted erection and watch it slowly fade.
Its all out there in the world
Crazy whores, gambling, guns, drugs, sex, violence
Most times you avoid it but sometimes
You wish you could find it.
It’s a tough thing putting your life in order.
It’s worse still when you succeed,
only to discover boredom is more deadly
than any nightlife poor man’s street hustle, or hunt to survive.
And you sit and watch the TV, not even thinking.
Dressed in an ill fitting suit, slouched in a tired chair
bent by routine into the shape of your ass.
Your wife cooks cheap GM food in the kitchen
and a film of wafer thin adipocre covers your eyes in a glaze.
Your kids are outside getting dirty in the trash,
but you are over, you don’t even drink no more.
Just watch the news with a vacant stare and wait for the football
So you can go to bed and get up again tomorrow and do it all again.
You drift off for a moment and dream of shoving a chrome dildo shaped like a rhino horn up the ass of a prostitute…
Your wife wakes you up with a plate of beef and soggy potatoes
You rest it on your up-tilted erection and watch it slowly fade.
Infidelity and lust
I get up to a beautiful March day, the sun is rising and throwing warm golden light onto the houses at the back of my yard. Birds sing and traffic flies by. Things aint so bad, I tell myself. I still have some fire in the blood with which to push on through.
Yes I do.
So I fumble about my room and find a different set of shades, I put them on. Rose tinted motherfuckers and things look even better. Fuck, I might even feel a sense of happiness and peace today if I keep working at it. Last night I heard a tap at my bedroom door. I let her in. She looked bemused, a little forlorn, a little confused. She carried in her bossom and womb healing ju-ju for me. She didnt know this, she was just following and instinct. I was thirsty and I was ready to drink greedily, savagely from her.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked politely but before she had finished I had grabbed her wrist, thrown her against the wall, shut the door and was pushing my tongue like a snake deep into her mouth. I was mining for ore, my energy was tunneling into her looking for life giving sustenance, the stuff only women can bring to a man. She submitted to me, she felt good and that made me feel better. She felt hot and that released the dragon and it broke free, through my finger tips it soared pulling at her belt, ripping her trousers down to her ankles, snake tongue kissing again, deeply, lovingly in the magic of newness and forbidden lust. We were alight, like fireflies if you could have seen us, the soft penumbra of my candle lit room flickered shadows round the wall, ancient spirits all come to watch and feast on the moment. This was the animal world, animist and spiritual, this was sex. I turned her around and slipped into her, we both cooed to feel that chemistry ignite and we rolled into it, pushed into it, we burned in its combusting flame, and it felt good. It felt like life was real for a moment. It felt like we were free because we were.
A noise disturbed us, reality had come in the front door downstairs and in a moment the alchemy turned on itself and a poison broke into the purity of the mix. The poison of guilt, fear, panic, realisation. In an instant all hell broke lose where moments before we had let our minds go, had relinquished control to some normally dormant force within us both, we had been creating private volcanic beauty, growing it in the moment, cleansing ourselves with it, healing ourselves with that ju-ju. Now the poison spread fast, through our relaxed shields it went meeting no resistance and straight into our hearts like a dagger, a hyperdemic needle.
‘Get dressed!’ she hissed
‘Oh fuck him, he wont come in here’ I said adamantly and annoyed to be disturbed by anything in such a perfect moment. They were too rare to waste for anyone, not even for Justice or Death.
‘He cant know’ she said
‘He wont if you can be convincing and stop panicking!’ I insisted.
She knew what I was saying, she breathed deeply, tied the buckle on her belt. Checked her hair and stared at me with a more relaxed smile. I was sitting on the bed, my loose trousers already back on after the first panic. I just watched her and tried to calm myself. I knew strength and confidence and above all complete dishonesty were needed at this moment and they required calm. I was making myself calm, slowly the mood overtook her rabid refrain and she knew what I knew. She breathed deeply again.
‘So...’ I said and paused a while as if to lead her into the next line of a play. She just stood there staring into my eyes. This wasnt quite what I meant. Calm was one thing, numb passivity was another.
‘....so, I can cut your hair with a bit of a shatter style to it or we can just trim it and keep the shape you have. By the way what are we going to do about that incident with the landlord, I dont think it was us and there is no reason we should have to pay.’
She looked a little uncertain as I began to talk nonsense, but it dawned on her that we needed to bring ourselves back down. Slowly it got through. She began to play along. The game of life. We were back. We would get away with it this time. When the clatter of noise outside my room stopped she left and returned to hers. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didnt feel good about what had happened but I refused to feel bad. I lay on my bed and smoked for a while staring out into the night. I understood this, I did. But I didnt like it, and yet, somehow, as long as it was only ever our secret, as long as it never broke into the light of any one else's mind, then it was a good thing. She was healing ju-ju to me, and I was the same to her. This much I knew. This was the truth. But if anyone ever found out, the opposite would become true. And in that lay the very core of life’s paradox.
I also understood something else; the reason we feel guilty is because we dont want it to happen to us. Guilt is based on self interest. I wondered if I was as cold a person as I would be judged to be if this tale came out. All I ever wanted was to feel that magic heal me. I never meant to hurt anyone but the price of mining for those diamonds is a high one, sometimes the highest, there is always going to be blood of the heart spilled for it someplace. On the one hand I felt happier than I had for months as I lay in that bed, I knew sex was the cure in that moment, the chemistry of it healed, the magic of fresh lust was the ingredient not love, not familiarity, but quick burning instantaneous lust, the sort that doesnt last. That was the stuff. Maybe I was addicted to it, or maybe I was cured by it. I couldnt tell. I felt happy, I felt released, I felt peace and contentment. But on the other hand I felt like the lowest bastard ever to walk the earth, and by rights, that was exactly what I was.
Yes I do.
So I fumble about my room and find a different set of shades, I put them on. Rose tinted motherfuckers and things look even better. Fuck, I might even feel a sense of happiness and peace today if I keep working at it. Last night I heard a tap at my bedroom door. I let her in. She looked bemused, a little forlorn, a little confused. She carried in her bossom and womb healing ju-ju for me. She didnt know this, she was just following and instinct. I was thirsty and I was ready to drink greedily, savagely from her.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked politely but before she had finished I had grabbed her wrist, thrown her against the wall, shut the door and was pushing my tongue like a snake deep into her mouth. I was mining for ore, my energy was tunneling into her looking for life giving sustenance, the stuff only women can bring to a man. She submitted to me, she felt good and that made me feel better. She felt hot and that released the dragon and it broke free, through my finger tips it soared pulling at her belt, ripping her trousers down to her ankles, snake tongue kissing again, deeply, lovingly in the magic of newness and forbidden lust. We were alight, like fireflies if you could have seen us, the soft penumbra of my candle lit room flickered shadows round the wall, ancient spirits all come to watch and feast on the moment. This was the animal world, animist and spiritual, this was sex. I turned her around and slipped into her, we both cooed to feel that chemistry ignite and we rolled into it, pushed into it, we burned in its combusting flame, and it felt good. It felt like life was real for a moment. It felt like we were free because we were.
A noise disturbed us, reality had come in the front door downstairs and in a moment the alchemy turned on itself and a poison broke into the purity of the mix. The poison of guilt, fear, panic, realisation. In an instant all hell broke lose where moments before we had let our minds go, had relinquished control to some normally dormant force within us both, we had been creating private volcanic beauty, growing it in the moment, cleansing ourselves with it, healing ourselves with that ju-ju. Now the poison spread fast, through our relaxed shields it went meeting no resistance and straight into our hearts like a dagger, a hyperdemic needle.
‘Get dressed!’ she hissed
‘Oh fuck him, he wont come in here’ I said adamantly and annoyed to be disturbed by anything in such a perfect moment. They were too rare to waste for anyone, not even for Justice or Death.
‘He cant know’ she said
‘He wont if you can be convincing and stop panicking!’ I insisted.
She knew what I was saying, she breathed deeply, tied the buckle on her belt. Checked her hair and stared at me with a more relaxed smile. I was sitting on the bed, my loose trousers already back on after the first panic. I just watched her and tried to calm myself. I knew strength and confidence and above all complete dishonesty were needed at this moment and they required calm. I was making myself calm, slowly the mood overtook her rabid refrain and she knew what I knew. She breathed deeply again.
‘So...’ I said and paused a while as if to lead her into the next line of a play. She just stood there staring into my eyes. This wasnt quite what I meant. Calm was one thing, numb passivity was another.
‘....so, I can cut your hair with a bit of a shatter style to it or we can just trim it and keep the shape you have. By the way what are we going to do about that incident with the landlord, I dont think it was us and there is no reason we should have to pay.’
She looked a little uncertain as I began to talk nonsense, but it dawned on her that we needed to bring ourselves back down. Slowly it got through. She began to play along. The game of life. We were back. We would get away with it this time. When the clatter of noise outside my room stopped she left and returned to hers. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didnt feel good about what had happened but I refused to feel bad. I lay on my bed and smoked for a while staring out into the night. I understood this, I did. But I didnt like it, and yet, somehow, as long as it was only ever our secret, as long as it never broke into the light of any one else's mind, then it was a good thing. She was healing ju-ju to me, and I was the same to her. This much I knew. This was the truth. But if anyone ever found out, the opposite would become true. And in that lay the very core of life’s paradox.
I also understood something else; the reason we feel guilty is because we dont want it to happen to us. Guilt is based on self interest. I wondered if I was as cold a person as I would be judged to be if this tale came out. All I ever wanted was to feel that magic heal me. I never meant to hurt anyone but the price of mining for those diamonds is a high one, sometimes the highest, there is always going to be blood of the heart spilled for it someplace. On the one hand I felt happier than I had for months as I lay in that bed, I knew sex was the cure in that moment, the chemistry of it healed, the magic of fresh lust was the ingredient not love, not familiarity, but quick burning instantaneous lust, the sort that doesnt last. That was the stuff. Maybe I was addicted to it, or maybe I was cured by it. I couldnt tell. I felt happy, I felt released, I felt peace and contentment. But on the other hand I felt like the lowest bastard ever to walk the earth, and by rights, that was exactly what I was.
Days spent too busy surviving to write...
Been so busy no time to write. No inclination as life roller-coastered me down a crazy tube. I am in Sydney still, for the record. Been working, struggling to keep my head above the debt line. But I can't complain. I have new friends here, I think they'll become good friends, and my brother is my life line when things get tough. I decided the lifestyle was better if a little more cruel somehow. So I am building a new life, I saw the date of my return to UK come and go. I watched the plane fly up from Sydney airport and said goodbye to a part of myself that went with it. I felt all the tears of loss and pain. I'll miss them all; good friends, good times, good days. All swopped for the loneliness of a city I am unknown in. Why? Just because something in my soul said it was time to follow opportunity so I did. Disobey the gods at your peril.
I lit a smoke, let the puff drift out over the balcony, catch the air and disappear. I imagined it took my homesick blues and nostalgia with it. I needed a distraction else I was likely to get dark and mean. So I took the lift down to the street, wandered around Kings Cross for a while letting the wildness soothe me, then fell into a bar and got blind drunk to celebrate or mourn I wasnt quite sure. 3 hours later, still alone but with double vision, a middle aged hooker suggested we shoot up cocaine and have sex.
'I'm retired' I said, knowing that in truth the only thing stopping me was probably the fact I had spent all my cash on booze.
I stumbled back to the flat, passed out on the bed in my clothes and woke up to a hang over. Welcome to Australia, I thought, they are gonna love me here.
I lit a smoke, let the puff drift out over the balcony, catch the air and disappear. I imagined it took my homesick blues and nostalgia with it. I needed a distraction else I was likely to get dark and mean. So I took the lift down to the street, wandered around Kings Cross for a while letting the wildness soothe me, then fell into a bar and got blind drunk to celebrate or mourn I wasnt quite sure. 3 hours later, still alone but with double vision, a middle aged hooker suggested we shoot up cocaine and have sex.
'I'm retired' I said, knowing that in truth the only thing stopping me was probably the fact I had spent all my cash on booze.
I stumbled back to the flat, passed out on the bed in my clothes and woke up to a hang over. Welcome to Australia, I thought, they are gonna love me here.
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