Thursday, January 8, 2009

Flobots- "Handlebars"

Just wanted to share this little ditty by the Flobots

Flobots- "Handlebars"

and here's some verses of my own :

Those Thousand Hour Nights

Those thousand hour nights
twisting the knife in
becoming a spectre
roaming the streets of this desolate city
from 3am til dawn
waiting for a sign
that never comes
feeling absurd
without a friend or lover
without a purpose
just to go on
crawling up the walls
and across the ceiling
and down again
amazed at the creature alone
losing himself in books
on art on poetry
in fantasies walking along the Seine
living in a garret
surrounded by artists and poets and revolutionaries
killing rats for a little nourishment
soon it all fades
ending the facade
so he kills a rat he says out of fear
or out of resentment
why should the rat feel free to come and go
as it pleases -

Take care,

Thursday, January 1, 2009

'Life Put On Pause' For David

First a little musical interlude

Nathalie Cardone Comandante Che Guevara Hasta Siempre

And so another year begins .But it is just an arbitrary distinction of the passing of time. Were you or the world reborn at 12:01 AM. Always hoping this year will be as good as or better.Fearing that moment of joy you felt last night might be your last. Ah but we have our ways to fool ourselves .

Anyway an old friend reminded me how long I have been asleep. He and others have lived whereas I am just doing time fearful of leaving this self-imposed exile. Giving up on a life of winners and losers. A ghostly message stirred inside this sea silicon chips carrying messages from the living and the dead. Just refuse to take part.

so here's some verses for your amusement:
For David

Life Put on Pause
Jan. 1, 2009

I stood out of sight in my garden
building wooden bridges
a zen piece of soil eluded me
still at the center
broken shattered
found lost in a strange country
flesh and bone too much to carry
wandering through labyrinthine forests of clocks
a dead world of gadgets stealing time
haunted and hunted
sitting in nearly deserted cafes
is everyday so slow
on patios overlooking the harbor
monstrous oil rigs
a city on stilts
cruise ships shift gears parking dockside
like cars lined up outside a shopping mall
the plaid shirt he says helps his writing
off to hospital for another 30 days
each day a kick in the guts
watching the minutes tick by
waiting for silence
pitiless and pathetic
days lost to jagged knives
ripping through
mere synaptic rods of lightning
for pleasure for pain
going on a march or two
filling up spaces
as if to stop the swirling seas of stars
Buddha in the mirror mocks every word every move
every thought every dream every nightmare
all the same
pain and pleasure the same
tiresome empty
every moment a new death
reediting memories
decades like waves crashing
days streaming through my little garden
a thousand years sitting on a cushion breathing
frogs on heated electric grills jumping
walking fast to catch myself unawares-

switching channels
peeking inside ten thousand souls
words and images swirling about
broken hearts broken minds broken bones
salivating as their lives crash against rocks
turning away at the last moment
greedily devouring pain and confusion
drinking a million tears
hoping for more
life put on pause
laughter and smiles an accusation
no joy in mudville
as I climb earth's ladder
listening to songs
feeling the singer's pain or joy
in languages I do not understand
drifting around the sun and back again
the Gods have the last laugh
imprisoned in a cell underground
remembering years sitting in cafes
in a sad little city with big dreams for itself
surrounded by a wall of borrowed library books
in The green Bean on Argyle or
cafe Mokka on Brunswick
reading poetry to crowds of a dozen sometimes a hundred
a way to pass the time
escaping on Fridays to the Roadhouse
at the heart of this city
dancing and drinking in the war torn ruins
in the underbelly
where the music sounds like dueling chainsaws
dreaming of Paris Madrid Copenhagen
travelers return telling their tales
imagining I was with them-

staggering through the streets at 3am
crowds emerge in desperation from bars
imagining kerouac bukowski ginsberg
imagining chagall vangogh whistler
lost in sweet absinthe green dreams
drowning the pain in laudanum
too awake for my own good or yours
smoothing the edges
months spent in self imposed exile
taking a vow of silence
driving for years on switch-back mountain roads
til we meet the sky
then meet ourselves on the way back down
as the big hand picks us up
dumps us in this place or that
never where we expected
our desires crushed by fate and chance
on a spinning ball hanging in space
our tasks our gestures empty
seeing the pain in your eyes
I cannot fathom the meaning
as you walk away into the wilderness
so put it on pause
I can stand no more
tossing into the flames the mocking books of his poetry
published once gave him false hope
mere printed words
as if the word filled world could be tamed
beneath the still china blue sky
two doves fly over the wooden arched bridge
as vultures nearby tear at the flesh
of another of the disappeared tossed on a heap of garbage
recycled humanity
as some brutish general breaks down your door at 3am
rewinding to a day on the beach entitled 'Fun in the Sun'
no don't go there
years wandering the halls on a college campus
in a cheap blue uniform
guardian of the silence
fearing one day
finding the apartment rock hard with sharp edges everywhere
the softness becoming razor wire draped across the living room
and you sadly sitting inside
in a moment of despair gone
draping me in a grey burial shroud
with no exit strategy
never preparing for the worse
putting our love on pause
our love and our child both dead
deluded sitting on the cushion twenty years
outside the meditation hall just the darkness of space-

Music For Dave -

Victor Jara

Victor Jara -El Cigarrito

Luchin-Victor Jara

see you around,