Sand-sifting in the sand

Took a while to find the title for this one, and still not sure it's right...

I woke up before the dawn on a side note; oh, and then I found she was gone. Oh, oh and oh.

So Bip I went on Bip Street…

Save this I said for posterity... and then, I could feel a message coming in, kind of silver human like, some sound a ripple of my chance, and advancing.

Is there anyone alive on Bip Street?

Image by Barrie Taylor from Pixabay

Gold and silver mentions aside I would say don’t go into the spider infested shed of that place.

But I did…

I am now officially nashoo…

Over in another corner of darkness some man was trying to get the tungsten guy to do charts or something kind of nefarious. So tungsten guts said: I ain't a chart kind of guy, and I will say this over and over until I am dead, I am not a chart kind of guy.

I grew so bored I went home to sleep.

Wolf howls

… whatever...

Guts, that what it takes, guts.

But it doesn’t matter either way in that darkness…

Sometimes the moonlight shines through the window and bathes me in light as I sit in my chair through the long hours.

And as I nod off I hear the sounds of all my dreams going home…

And waking up suddenly, I might happen to say: any murderous devils left around to plague me?

But of course, no answers will come until it doesn’t matter anymore.

And then I will know I am crazy, with nothing left of me to know; except the sky so blue, or the night so dark.

At least these are perfect.

And taking a walk I find myself where I can no longer find myself any more.

Looking up from Bip Street you might see no more than this; somewhere I’d fallen; somewhere I was asleep.

Perhaps there can be nothing more than a sorrowful survivor in this defeat.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Oh, I was dancing here this way and dancing there that way and coming up with the perfect answer every time that never matched how I was feeling; and growling made no difference.

Yes, this is what I was doing as I slept away the days until they turned into years so that I felt like hippy Mac Bippy and Welsh-beard the second combined and sipping through the one thousand straws of April where I found myself snuggled up against, like a bamboo bush fire returning home and never making it.

But time passes too fast and I found myself alone too much until the girl was gone.

I always thought I’d meet that girl again, but I never did; she went her way and I went mine.

So of course I ended up walking on Bip Street, where many have gone before me, but I felt I was the only one.

I can make you last forever she said.

And I believed her.

Oh, but did I believe her.

I’m locked away somewhere else now, and as a matter of indifference.

Image by Daniel Borker from Pixabay

I could feel myself becoming lifeless…

Outside of the place I was living in I saw a snail crawling up the wall, perfectly preserved in its doom, knowing nothing but its crawl up the wall of where it found itself.

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There are places in this world where they eat birds.

Oh, how can they live without birds singing?

There are places in this world where the song of the birds is caged, to be sold onwards.

Who would buy that?

There are those that would buy the bird’s song for themselves, captured in a cage.

Who are these people?

There are those that do harm.

And I found myself asking: am I one of those?

And then one day I found I was but a battened down hatch, and tight as a drum.

The battered down hatch gave way, eventually, and freedom escaped, blew through its nose until it was all coughed out; and then through the jungle of its intent it gave signs to go this way, or that, whatever.

But there was nowhere to go; there was just, there, in the plastic lateness of any hour…

Anyway, the government closed Bip Street down one day to make way for a car park; and then I didn’t even have that anymore.

But it really doesn’t matter; nothing matters.

Time of course evens out most things; and then one day I found myself somewhere else…

Image by pixel2013 from Pixabay

My dream used to be to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower with the love of my life.

It’s a bit of a story…

When you’re totally alone with yourself in the moment, something happens; for me it was a talking postcard that said: don’t give up on your dreams.

And there I was wearing my new boots when I heard about this, and leaning up against the wall and hoping for a new moon and feeling sexy at the same time, with nothing to worry about.

It was shaping up to be one of those good days, or something along those lines.

And then the moon was up there and being all silent like in the night that came rounding me up; the world’s candle shining for all to see.

And I thought: magic.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

One moment’s worthiness is all it takes

One moment to leave all the thoughts behind

One moment to survive…

But can I lose control; maybe I should; just to see what it feels like.

Hmmm…

I went to a bar for a drink…

There's a gorgeous girl,

And she's just sat down not far from me

The bar man, the ole sod

Saw her too

And went to serve her

And got all her attention; which gave me time to look at her…

Oh I was most in love

But I was a little bit drunk too

And growing a beard

I dunno, maybe I was coming on to her a bit too strong

She didn't look at me again after her first glance

So I let her go and got back into my beer

So much for flirting

In my hidden dreams I am the hero, and can do anything I please

In my dreams I’m 19 rockets of love

In my dreams I’m a little bit drunk…

The next morning came again without any instructions as to how to proceed so that I felt most imperfect in my ablutions as I made them. And afterwards, I went for breakfast.

My caravan must have been growing peaches or something because it wasn’t long before I was moving out of the stale air into the sunlight and thinking that petunias were not a crime if taken in June.

Yes, one day I shall make myself disappear, but until then I am notorious in my misdeeds and finding it a long way to the top of the Eiffel tower.

You see now how you can be thrown, in any moment, from the horse that you ride?

I see only serving wenches starving everywhere I go.

Man, I just got to know, what planet are you on?

Am I sold onwards then, sand-sifting in the sand?

I was there once

But I was older then

And knew where I was coming from

Now I’m like a broken cloud

Bittersweet

And left out in the rain…

Well, it’s a bit of a story isn't it?…

Images from Pixabay