Magic, mystery and fate

I haven’t written about love for a long time,
because I haven’t felt it.
Sometimes it is best to lock our jewels and precious stones away safely.
Sometimes, we find ourselves amongst wolves and jackals, running alone through the night.
A thin blade glitters, concealed within a discreet hand.
When this dark night ends, maybe I will have time and freedom enough
to take from its box that beautiful, blue, precious gemstone.
I'll gaze into it again.
See the dancing lights of magic, mystery and fate.
Hear the mesmeric sound of distant girls laughter, of soft panpipes and flowing water.
Smell the sweet scent of rose and jasmine.
Feel the intoxicating sensuality of another’s touch;
Ecstasy, bliss, peace and completion.
And then maybe I shall begin again
my search
for what I once found
in you.


For Corrina

Snapshot of a certain moment

I have a snapshot of a certain moment
It comes around every now and then
The movie is different, the delivery, the package it comes wrapped up in,
but the effect upon me is always the same;
Fear, terror, incredulity, frozen, FROZEN! Run, RUN!
Survival at all costs, kill if I have to.
Survival at all costs.

Chill on the morning breeze

A chill morning wind blows, another day arrives at your feet,
and there is some kind of victory in that.
Hell, you actually feel pretty good!
Dark obelisks tower in the sky as dawn light begins to break.
You don’t need much sleep these days.
The FEEYAH doesn’t cut in quite so deep anymore either.
There is a resigned ness, still soft on the inside, just used to it hurting.
The hurt, they say, tells you that you are alive.
Fucking L.I.F.E.
What the hell is it?
You’ve got your theories, and they are all pretty dark.

There is something beautiful, calm and optimistic about this time of day, though.
Not much traffic and the awareness that today, maybe today will be the one you have been waiting your whole life for;
Your lucky day.
When you get out of all this.
When you find the road to some kind of success.
When you win out.
When you make it, finally.

I never gave up hope.
But I cant deny what that chill in the morning breeze has always been telling me.

RED!

Letters to God – written in a street at 5am (sober, for the record)

I don’t blame you, but I know it is a waste of time asking for an explanation.
We make our own beds down here, right?
Well maybe something is crooked in me, and I am not sure it is of my doing alone, because I am wholly unable to rise into my dream of how life should be, yet I am 100% genius at ending up sat on my cold ass at 5am, on concrete, in a city I don’t belong and barely know.
Waiting, skint, tired, afraid, hurting, alone.
Are all adjectives I am emotionally involved with right now.
Is it too much to ask for a touch of the miraculous?
I know exactly where I want to be.
That is why I am writing you this letter.

It is cold. It is 5am. I am in a city I barely know, but it could be anyplace and I suspect it would be the same.
I am no closer to realising my life than the day I began.
I am skint.
Hungry.
Waiting, always waiting.
But I have got my health, right? So what’s to complain about, I hear you say.
Funny guy.

Maybe it is selfish of me, I know you are busy, but alone I don’t seem to be doing so well at this thing called life.
So I guess what I am saying here is, I could do with a little help. And by the way, I am not the only one.

Yours truly
Bezlebub

a note on suicide

If I were going to do it, it would have to be a shotgun under the chin. Or better yet, a good size heroin and cocaine snowball. I don’t have a problem with the ethics at all.

I think the world of people generally sucks.
The laws of the universe are parasitical and predatory,
the creator had intention but lacked compassion.

People like myself are better off moving on.
I sometimes think I was designed for the next world, not this one.
Something about it makes more sense to me.
This place is retarded.

I have looked and I have tried for 41 years to get what I do here right. I have done my best to rinse some semblance of joy from existence, and I succeeded surprisingly well.

As I get older the options get less, I get wiser and I find I dislike the conditions here all the more. I have decay, senility, obstruction, and the company of myself to look forward to.
I don’t have a problem with suicide.

But while another person who loves me still lives and breathes the air of this world, I would not do it to them.

It wouldnt be hard, wouldnt even be painful.
Just take yourself to that edge and begin to fly.
Higher and higher until this place really doesn’t matter all that much anymore.
Your spirit letting go, and you are gone.

It’s no big deal, I don’t know what all the fuss is about.
Life, death. It is all just happening.

As I finished writing this I knocked over a glass and it smashed.
Funny how things go.

Revolting

Every time I see a music video these days
I am reminded of the old punk adage - we are all prostitutes
I have been saying 'oh you SLUT!' to the tube a lot of late.
and sorry, but R&B videos are the worst offender
take note Justine Timberfake
pathetic poseurs and stupid slags trying to sell some hot choreographed booty shakin' shite at me.
puullleeeaaase!
Just take it away!
Is this a turn on to anyone?!
really?
fuck.

But I don't actually mind
because I have seen this kind of global tension in the market place before,
the sameness.
Everywhere.
bland. empty. packaged. bullshit. BULLSHIT!
and it tells me
soon.

very soon.

Revolution is on it's way.

I always like a bit of anarchy.
it's in the blood.