Last Thing On My Mind. part 10
Manipulated.
Wisdom comes with birth, not with age
And I fall
Into your arms
Into your web
And I struggle
Bind myself tighter
Then I release
See time has slipped by
What would have happened?
Had I been a different man
Had I not smiled, had I not seen
What change not created?
Had I not been
At that road end on that day
On time
Punctual to the last full stop
That slaved you to my heart
To those words that fell like rain
Natural and reviving
Obedient and conniving
Needing yet rejecting
Due to the damage done
From the races lost and won
Limped and run
Crawled and begged
For a new beginning
Many other webs I could have stumbled into, they that had their alarm threads jangling loud enough for me to hear, never quite knowing if it were my survival instinct that stopped me or my fear of being loved. To survive the back slapping confusion that comes with the invitation, to survive the illusion of painted flowers with stolen perfume, of painted eyes that hold no more truth than a snakes lidless retina and the beckoning desire to enter me through the front door and leave me by the back. That stolen time which could have been put to use saving starving children and calculating the distance from here to there.
The pout the moment of destruction
The shout the point of release
Love becomes a collection of failure, a metaphor of itself.
With the illusion complete and seen through, then the time has come to move through the shadow of darkness and into the light of truth…
When the dream bursts, when the thin edge shrinks and the meniscus stretches to have no strength and allows the difference to flow through the open moat. When truth is revealed the fears evaporate in to the being of everything, clarity calls like the one true love beckoning me forth to join her embrace, realities domino collapse bringing happiness with the knowledge that nothing really matters any more and that nothing ever did.
There was you with your school girl puppy fat and coloured hair, our thirst for love, the first for unreasonable revulsion, our story a fairytale in a misty dream, it was the crackling dawn bathing the darkness in light anew.
There was you with your ancient wisdom and sallow breasts sucked dry by the children I became father too, never hearing their hunger cry. We fed on the night; we ate our fill and then some, telling travellers the best route for their journey setting paths on powder and spirit.
There was you with your need to feed the world with your beatific love, with your angelic grace and maternal humor. We fished and caught the most beautiful wind but had to let her go, never to know what could have been, impatient for the next feast.
There was you that soothed the hate and ironed out the creases, the romantic that could never let love die even if the love was not hers to save, mother of the future, shaper of dreams coddled like clay in the potters hands I became a beautiful vase fit to hold only two roses.
There was you with your puckered nose, with your ambitious sex, your animal wisdom and contempt for your kind.
There was you again so similar to the rest with deadlines and diaries, the dance was the best, the dance with the devil enthralled and beguiled and made a man of the child.
Then there was me, my fatality ever closer, forced to choose between the kiss and the cold, with nothing to lose but my friends, with nothing to lose but you.
The spectrum split from white to the rainbow from here to there and beyond.
Body and soul this love is true.
The insignificant become important to the creed, unnoticed elements that create the mass, which will move the few, the few whose reason, can be weighed, whose purpose is to attract and contain like a black hole absorbing matter to counter the force of nature imposed by that which choose to exist…
We choose to exist you and I, with our scattered love and secret nights, with our nets cast we caught the first light of day and we caught the moon full and bright whispering desire through the mists of time, inseparable, indivisible, alive.
There is no shame, there are no lies, truth is the strength that binds us tight, our present wrapped, gifted and given to the gods of passion that guide these hands that stroke this skin.
Repetition creates a need for absolute escape; repetition turns rationality into madness. Each pass of the pivot point tightens the strings that bind my thumbs. This is now my prison, the tunnels need digging, the spot lights need putting out, the rats are growing larger feeding on the entrails of dead memories.
I scavenge for devices to set traps for myself, the bars on my window melt with the tears that flow in my heart, the dream of warmth is replaced by the need to stay warm, this sentence appears endless. My body ages with no one to witness the change, my family dies in a distant land, have they forgotten me, have they cast me to a grave, unmarked, unknown, easier to bear than the truth.
My company is chosen for its will to survive this apocalypse, those that know how to sew from spiders webs, those that know how to take what was once mine and make it there own. The cliffs that protect me from escape are black and cold, my chains tied into them bind me too them as death will bind me to the devils clutch. Do I ask too much to be released from this hell? Is my ambition too weak too dare to dare too look over the walls, to know what is on the other side, those distant patches of green and blue where I know love lives, where senses prevail in that place where I know I can find myself even if only in another desolate loneliness of my own making. The jailers laugh when they see my desperation, they beat me down when they feel my passion rising. So secretly now I persevere, I dig the tunnel to the other side, I can take no-one with me on the journey I have to make. The only important thing now is to escape before I die.
I imagine how it would be to have what I crave, what sort of man would I become should this dream have its chance, should I be released from myself, allowed to fly, which way would I travel and why?
I shall go south to the sun, to where the icy fingers cant touch my soul, to where the skin is dark and the people live by their own set of rules of their own making, to where they eat different foods of their own growing, to where freedom is taught as a right to be, to where each day is a spinning compass, the choice of direction left to me. To let my spirit guide these wayward legs to prove they can walk, they can run or swim or climb or jump to where belief is the fact of the day, to where fruit is abundant and good health is the normal priority. To be where to be held is to want to be held, to where my children can eat the leaves of hope and this is all they know. Untied, boundless, free.
What am I if not this?
An ageing cynic
A blunt knife
A widowed husband waiting to die
A birds clipped wings
A soulless voice that groans not sings
A buried hope, a tale of woe
A potted plant that can never grow
I must go, I must go, I must go…
From yesterday to today there is no comparison for there is you to share the shame, sinew tight for loving call we rock the boat through night, through day we re-write the rules of natures trust for me to care not to harm this mother fair, yet nature lies with herself alone, she holds her own through war and peace, she conquers none she conquers all, we rise we live we fall.
Within these dreary days we set monochrome dreams
Within these lonely nights we believe in coloured in skies
Cheeks flush, memories burn
From cold to warm the heat returns
Feed me like darkness to a burning flame
In return I shall remain
A shadow of the fears you flee
A consequence to feel
Loves proof we.
Reflected through the lessons taught
By the suckling child
Showing mother how to feel, how to feed
Reflected through the tyrants hate
The spectrum unseen
It felt the need
The difference to be
If I suffered for you would you love me more
If I taught you disdain would you fall
If I died would you remember me
If I took your life would I be free.
Distorted reflection, diffraction, blinding rays
Misinformation distillations new haze
Shadow puppets that frighten the kids
Circles of faith spiral to heaven
Joining hands on this earth the multitudes are rising
Rhythms intensely calling
Repetitions dying
Watch the shadows shrink to naught
Truth become worth
Echo’s distort into futures past
Pulsing harmonics sing a tune to me
Wailing strings bind
Chaos finds patterns to destroy
Air split by woeful song
Speed me along.
Awkward angles
Misfit shapes
Regime quakes.
There is nothing that can’t be held
Beyond the veil she waits
No compass could guide me
No solace can find me
Till together we stand
All cast in front of us
All lessons behind
The journey awaits us
When our hands slip apart
Some time I could find you
Beyond the veil
Beyond the stars
A light shines for us
Our guide to the son
Beyond the veil
We will meet again
As one.
