the kid who sneaked out late to spook the sandman on his nightly rounds
Ian M
Posts: 123
12/10 – in ragdoll posture leaning on the wrong side of the 1st class partition, listening with blissful vacancy to Dylan.
Flicker of shadow doubt, a frown confirmed when ‘next station will be Haywards Heath’ moonwalks in orange hieroglyphs on the dark glass before me.
Not again! I could’ve sworn it was the right train this time!
Can’t even shrug about it though
“Oh Mama, can this really be the end:
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?”
Call me Railroad Jim.
Thank God the snooker isn’t on until 11. Maybe I’ll take a little detour...
Magdalen a prostitute in profile, talking to Pilate and his harem of ex- and nouveau fantasies – he told me the other day that I could do so much better, and I believed him* – talking proud with gesture emanating from her body stood upright firmly and joyously, young blood in the air around her, in the air and in the ground, and her waves of motion and emotion radiating out to touch all, to caress and heal.
*well, for a time
Magdalen a saint in silhouette from the sunshining behind her and from the all-consuming blackness, the void that penetrates the world from my misty window. Magdalen caught in between with no escape, only engulfment whichever way she may choose to turn. Either that or to remain forever fixed, standing there tall and resolute as a pillar of defiance at the last frontier between two worlds.
And the candle that you held that day
And the cold, cold world it was meant to ignite
While mine over on the other side of the altar,
Already in a blaze fanned by howling winds,
And this stare that will remain forever fixed
And this terrible, terrible hunger:-
Like the hunger of the naked flame,
And of those who would use it to blanket,
Smother once more this world with dust and ash.
The Grand Scheme (of Things)
…
Missionary – the new things that are available to be learned or taught to a new set of ears eager in their own way to hear something New.
Originality – the rustling of the breeze through Autumn leaves on the ground and dwindling but stubborn in the trees. The horses disquieted in their stables, Restless, RESTLESS as the leaves because although they are safe and although they are warm and although they are well fed and stolidly prepared for a quiet night of rest for the morrow, they can feel something in the air, mysterious beings on the prowl flitting in and out of inner sight, lost momentarily within the folds of reason, then their sudden awful presence, not quite visible in the vacuum – dark vales between peaks of fear, mistrust and misunderstanding, under a full moon and the great, mistily clouded night of the unknown.
Knowledge & Feeling – there is something deeply, deeply wrong here. We all trapped in darknights and comaslumbers unsettled, aware of the danger – awareness is New, facing fear with honesty is a first footstep, is one step closer to conquering by drawing near, is a way to find your shelter in the wilderness, to make it your home.
In your quiet life, in your loud;
In your humble moments, in your proud;
As the single face in a crowd
Where with suspicious eye they once watched you
Oblivious to a tiny voice, a drowning sound –
Let them know you’re watching too.
Flicker of shadow doubt, a frown confirmed when ‘next station will be Haywards Heath’ moonwalks in orange hieroglyphs on the dark glass before me.
Not again! I could’ve sworn it was the right train this time!
Can’t even shrug about it though
“Oh Mama, can this really be the end:
To be stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again?”
Call me Railroad Jim.
Thank God the snooker isn’t on until 11. Maybe I’ll take a little detour...
Magdalen a prostitute in profile, talking to Pilate and his harem of ex- and nouveau fantasies – he told me the other day that I could do so much better, and I believed him* – talking proud with gesture emanating from her body stood upright firmly and joyously, young blood in the air around her, in the air and in the ground, and her waves of motion and emotion radiating out to touch all, to caress and heal.
*well, for a time
Magdalen a saint in silhouette from the sunshining behind her and from the all-consuming blackness, the void that penetrates the world from my misty window. Magdalen caught in between with no escape, only engulfment whichever way she may choose to turn. Either that or to remain forever fixed, standing there tall and resolute as a pillar of defiance at the last frontier between two worlds.
And the candle that you held that day
And the cold, cold world it was meant to ignite
While mine over on the other side of the altar,
Already in a blaze fanned by howling winds,
And this stare that will remain forever fixed
And this terrible, terrible hunger:-
Like the hunger of the naked flame,
And of those who would use it to blanket,
Smother once more this world with dust and ash.
The Grand Scheme (of Things)
…
Missionary – the new things that are available to be learned or taught to a new set of ears eager in their own way to hear something New.
Originality – the rustling of the breeze through Autumn leaves on the ground and dwindling but stubborn in the trees. The horses disquieted in their stables, Restless, RESTLESS as the leaves because although they are safe and although they are warm and although they are well fed and stolidly prepared for a quiet night of rest for the morrow, they can feel something in the air, mysterious beings on the prowl flitting in and out of inner sight, lost momentarily within the folds of reason, then their sudden awful presence, not quite visible in the vacuum – dark vales between peaks of fear, mistrust and misunderstanding, under a full moon and the great, mistily clouded night of the unknown.
Knowledge & Feeling – there is something deeply, deeply wrong here. We all trapped in darknights and comaslumbers unsettled, aware of the danger – awareness is New, facing fear with honesty is a first footstep, is one step closer to conquering by drawing near, is a way to find your shelter in the wilderness, to make it your home.
In your quiet life, in your loud;
In your humble moments, in your proud;
As the single face in a crowd
Where with suspicious eye they once watched you
Oblivious to a tiny voice, a drowning sound –
Let them know you’re watching too.
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No one needs a smile more than someone who fails to give one,
After you die...you know how to LIVE!