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[13 Oct 2006|12:08am] |
For a short time I chased the sun in from the shade and made it beg for mercy behind a tree. I bent down and flung some mud in it's eyes and told it to run, to run long and hard and not to bother me until next year.
Because i'm not wasting any time waiting for it..
The sun leapt up and hurled itself back into the sky and cut itself out, chilled up the clouds and iced up the hills, and the battle won, I sank down and sat down in my seat.
The seat is a bony thing, a small white throne in which I slump and smoke, survey and exorcise. It exists in a space between love and death, and it's all i've got. With the sun taking hibernation I figure i've got some time to make my rest count.
So I sit, twiddling my thumbs and staring into the dark corners. I am just beginning to beg for the wind when in steps the warm glow of fireplaces and kisses on the rug. You come to me..pull me off my chair and down to the furnace..I shiver and you melt all at once, the emblem of ice in your eyes turning to tears and the tears are for me. I wipe crystals from the lights and kiss you under the chin. When I do, your hair turns black and your gaze drags me under the floor.
And then leviathans crash up out of the ocean, spreading their thick tentacles across waves and frothing up my mouth..I hear you and I know, i'm not all on earth right now.
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[13 Oct 2006|03:25pm] |
So, you heard the man. Refer to comment on previous posting by Spikesinmyeye. Graham is back, Monday night. Be there. Or be pencil.
Work today was shit. Utter shit. There's no way I can dress up shit to make it look better. I fucking hate weekends.
Back to writing then.
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[13 Oct 2006|04:05pm] |
In the early to mid nineties, I would watch a soap called Prisoner: Cell Block H. It was an Oar-Straaalian soap set in a prison, and was brilliant. Featuring slightly rubbish performances and nail biting battles, it was the highlight of a week otherwise composed of the usual desperate staring at walls.
Whenever it was on, I could hear Bolb shouting "PRISONER!" at the start, as the intro depicted gates being shut and the word appearing in big white lettering on the screen. I would shout it back, and then I would watch the show.
It's released on dvd next year. The whole thing. All 692 episodes. I can finally find out what happened to the Freak.
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| When there's nothing left in the water. |
[13 Oct 2006|08:56pm] |
I found the river's edge was bound in a hurry,
to flow away and leave me feeling a little worried,
no reflections to see where I was going wrong,
no way to see if my face was getting a little too long,
I walked along to try and find some more water,
to know if in that water i'd have a son or daughter,
or even if they'd be there at all in a year or even ten,
and then i'd gaze back up into the sky and then....
you'd paint the sky black and rain ink on my face,
as if I needed reminding that you held me in disgrace,
I don't much care but I won't have this face,
rattled by rain and tears at your behest..
and when I fished for ideas I could find none at all,
not in the reeds or clovers, or at the bottom of the pool,
I couldn't even go back to the alley where,
once I found a high note in the midst of the despair and..
there's nothing left to write about wins or defeat,
no point making up words about people I don't meet,
and then I think of something a little new,
but on the page..
it runs blue and runs away down the stream..
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[13 Oct 2006|09:10pm] |
Now then...I wrote that as a proper song. Maybe i'll have that on my album! If I ever make one. The cover shall feature me fornicating with midgets and smashing a Kinder Egg with a hammer.
That was track two. Maybe i'll write some more songs. I need melodies. Hum me one. Hum me too. I'll do a sprinkle and you do a poo.
Bye!
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