If life were a bowl of cherries...

Lights hang low in dusty shrouds
And all about the wild ones
Wail their piteous melodies
To the night -


Watchers in the dark
Peering through their misted veils
To see the burning
High above, atop the hill.


A fight, a fight
The wild ones bark
They howl their anger
Through the dark.


How different to the cityscape?
Ten thousand time ten thousand
Sparks of light laid out
below in GLORY


Look down again - below the surface
See a sight that’s not so strange
The watchers sit behind their veils and see
The wild ones play -

The same game and the same rules
Of desperate times
- or desperate measures -
Of how much you have left lose.

And still the dust is all pervasive,
Crumbling concrete adds her tone
To smog and dirt and wasted chances
To things taken, not returned.


A decade since and still no change
The wild ones live and breathe
The dust of someone else’s
Golden Age.

I bid you greetings

All you angry men
And outraged women
Who sit and stare - for hours on end -
At the news reels on your TV screen
Who scroll through pages of

INTERNET HEADLINES

Tut and shake your head
Or shake your fist
And swear about injustice

I bid you greetings

You! Who's blood boils
And who's muscle trembles
In contempt
At the Dictators, the TNCs, the Banks, the Presidents, the Priests and the Teachers

As you sit and stare
And wait for the next headline
As you sit and stare
Eagar for the next to fuel your mindless fury
As you sit and stare

As you sit

As you sit

AND DO NOTHING

You sit and stare

At the woman beaten blue by a teenage daughter
At the vicar up in court, or the poedophile for rape
At the athlete torn apart by a long forgotten mine
At the young girl in the brothel waiting for her client
At the father searching in the ruins of a blowout
For a wife, for a parent, for a child, for a cousin, for an uncle, for a grandson, for a friend... for anybody?

You sit and stare

At a natural disaster wreaking havoc on a city
And swear hatred at the leaders,
At their lack of human pity

You sit and stare

And do nothing.

In your youth
In your passion
In your strength
In your self

You who have the power to shake the mountains
Who have the might to tople the steeples
And tear down the palaces

You have the feet that could teach the world to dance
You have the hands that could heal the scars that still deform
You have the tongues that could bring wisdom
You have the minds that could imagine something better

Most of all you have the hearts
The anger
The passion
The blood and the guts


Most of all you have the heart
That could
Give you

Strength

To change things

But you don't
You sit and stare.
In your selfish, smugness and self-centred pious righteousness
You watch the world go to hell in a handcart
And shake your head
And shake your fist

Then turn the TV off

And go to bed.

At least those without the wit, or the compassion...
Without the heart or the soul to be angry...
At least they can sleep

Without their own hypocrisy tainting their dreams

I bid you greetings
And I bid you goodnight

You sicken me.

xXx 

Night wrap his gentle arms around you, love
Night place his softest kisses on your eyes, love
Night whispers words of comfort into your ears, my love
Night be the one to dust away your fears

And if the day has passed it's course with smiles, with play, with laughter
I wish you dreams of crisps and cakes, with games to follow after
I wish you visions, vibrant, bright, of the sea-side in the summer
And in these dreams, I hope it seems, the good times last forever;  so

Night wrap his gentle arms around you, love
Night place his softest kisses on your eyes, love
Night whispers words of comfort into your ears, my love
Night be the one to dust away your fears

And if the day has brought you harm, if salt has stained your pillow
If you've struggled, lost your way, in sunlight walked in shadow
I wish you dreams of better things, the joy of days that follow
Velvet nights that ease your pain and herald bright tomorrows; so
 

Night wrap his gentle arms around you, love
Night place his softest kisses on your eyes, love
Night whispers words of comfort into your ears, my love
Night be the one to dust away your fears 

And if the day has bought you trouble or restless thoughts disturb
The peace of mind, which above all else, you, my love, deserve
I wish you calm and dreamless sleep, your flighty thoughts to curb,
Leaving clarity of purpose only such nights can unearth.

Night wrap his gentle arms around you, love
Night place his softest kisses on your eyes, love
Night whispers words of comfort into your ears, my love
Night be the one to dust away your fears 

Night wrap his gentle arms around you, love
Night place his softest kisses on your eyes, love
Night whispers words of comfort into your ears, my love
Night be the one to dust away your fears 

----> too many people I know are feeling like this at the moment. It is sad. Odd that I'm not one of them though.

xXx 

... Well mostly for me actually. You know how it gets when work is pressing but not essential.

In fairness I have been very good today. P1 I straightened my hair, put makeup on and then did 40 mins research for my program notes. P2 I had chemistry practical exam which seemed straight-forward enough at the time. Break I was social and discussed tea, nutella, the American elections and German Politics. Then I skived the next 90 mintues followed by a little more research and lunch. Gospel choir, chat to PMD, visit Paul and watch the first half of Euro-Trip then do 45 minutes Organ Practise (Frank - Piece Heroique). Assembly was followed by more socialness in the form of the school fete (most of which seemed to be either food or getting people wet with sponges or water pistols). The evening was another choir followed by revising unit one biology - DNA, transcription, translation and the formation of proteins. I chatted to JMJD for a while and then came home, washed up, made tea (:D lots of tea!), read one book on the history of the oboe and Mummy just gave me another to look through.... Chatted to friend and boyfriend... and now...

Well now I am sitting in bed, thinking about working but writing this instead - well aware that the pro-plus will keep me functional for at least another 120 minutes if I wish it to. hmmm.

She is knitting again
The tenth ball this week
Vibrant colour,
A tactile sport
Yes, I s'pose I see the appeal

She is knitting again
And who can say why
She never used to before
Told me she
"Couldn't"

Before what?

She is knitting again
A scarf made for me
And a jumper for you
The colour
The touch
The caress of thread
Against fingers
Or face
Or shoulders
Neck, arms or head?

Even knots can be beautiful

She is knitting again
The tenth ball this week
Vibrant colour
A tactile sport.
Yes I am glad

She is knitting again.

xXx

One of my favourite songs, holds too much dear to me, but such is the way with things that actually mean something. It is actually the theme song to "Angel" but I wont hold that against it :P written by Kim Richey - and I have to confess that that means nothing to me. But enough background.

A Place called home 

Well, it’s not hard to see
Anyone who looks at me
Knows I am just a rolling stone
Never landed any place to call my own
To call my own

"A rolling stone gathers no moss."

There are people I know who just arrive. They arrive on our doorsteps, walk into our schools, appear at our jobs, join our churchs, attend our pubs and clubs. They send their children to the same nurseries as we send ours. We meet them and befriend them and they become part of our lives. And then they leave. All that is really left is the dust disturbed where they moved over it, the small emptiness in our lives that is so quickly engulfed by the remainder. They are transcendent and we do not miss them. 




Well it seems like so long ago
But it really ain’t you know
I started off a crazy kid
Miracle I made it though
The things I did
The things I did

How often do you hear people exclaim, "I could never have done what you've managed," or "I would never have survived what you have."? But surely it is the things we live through - those miracles that we can nver quite explain - that shape who we are. If someone had been through the same as us then they would have been shaped in some way also, just as we adapted to survive. 

It is these "miracles" that give us stories to tell. They are experience, they offer insight and teach us wisdom to know where we can make a difference and when it is best to simply move on.

Some day I’ll go where
There ain’t no rain or snow
Till then I’ll travel alone
And I’ll make my bed
With the stars above my head
And dream of a place called home

 
Maybe that is just it? The rain and snow keep falling. The miracle of making it back to the sun offset by the journey through hell that must preceed it. Why would ever drag someone you care for along with you on *that* journey? It may be better to watch the stars with a lover or friend... but is it worth seeing them walk along side and see the things that you do?

Is it worth the risk that you might turn back to help them when they stumble?



I had a chance to settle down
Get a job and live in town
Work in some old factory
I never liked the foreman
Standing over me
Over me 

And yet so many people choose that. To protect them from themselves and the danger they believe they could be were they left to their own devices. To keep them safe from what might happen were they actually to dare to think. Other's bend their back to another in the hopes of promotion and dream of the time when they themselves will be the overseer.

Most accept their position in return security. A safety net to catch them should the wire snap. A job. An income. A pension. Support for their family in times of hardship and trial. The ability to make a difference to the people they love.

No I rather walk a windy road
Rather know the things I know
See the world with my own eye
No regrets no looking back no good byes
No good byes



To feel the wind in you hair and the rain on your skin; hear the sigh of everything that manages to survive so easily without being told what to think - or better still not to think at all. To smell life in all its vigour uncorrupted by routine or regularity; nothing is more constant than change itself - so many strive to forget that. To taste beauty and see the glory of smallest defiances against the night, glowworms in the dark.

No ties to hold you back. Nothing to influence you decison. No people you can drag with you into turmoil. No one that will make you stop and take a second thought before you step out into the unknown. No people who depend on you... 

And no one for you to depend on either.

Someday I’ll go where there ain’t no rain nor snow
Til then I’ll travel alone
And I make my bed
With the stars above me head
And I dream of a place called home

And some day I’ll go where there ain’t no rain nor snow
Till then I’ll travel alone
And I make my bed
With the stars above my head
And dream of a place called home

Some day I’ll go where there ain’t no rain nor snow
Dream of a place called home

And despite our better judgement we still search. We still seek out that we claim we do not want, that which will only drag us down. The people who we will make exception for. The people with whome we could build a life that we are happy to live. And even is our very souls are nomandic and can not settle anywhere we still search for our counterparts... the people willing - no wanting - to walk... or run... ... or fly alongside us.

No one was made to be alone.

It just seems easier most of the time. 

And safer. 

xXx 

(3) WHAT’S THE USE OF WINGS 
Brian Bedford  (Bedspring Music) MCPS
 
I could have been a giant, said the bonsai tree 
But someone bound my roots and held me down 
I could have reached the heavens, said the snowy owl 
But they clipped my wings and kept me on the ground 
I think I heard them tell me they loved me 
They'd care for me, without them I would die 
What's the use of roots if you can`t spread them 
What's the use of wings if you can't fly
 
I could have been a singer, said the mynah bird 
But they caged me and they told me what to say 
I could have run forever, said the pony 
But they bridled me and made me go their way 
I think I heard them tell me they loved me 
They'd care for me forever, so it seemed 
What's the use of voices without freedom 
What's the use of living others' dreams
 
Why do people cage those things they love the most 
Is it simply that they fear to be alone 
If you give your love its freedom it will stay awhile 
If it leaves you it was never yours to own
 
I could have found adventure, said the angel fish 
Now my world's so small there's nowhere I can go 
I could have ruled a kingdom, said the lion 
But this land inside my head is all I know 
I think I heard them tell me they loved me 
They'd care for me and it would be all right 
What's the use of life without adventure 
What's the use of strength if you can't fight 
 
Why do people cage those things they love the most 
Is it simply that they fear to be alone 
If you give your love its freedom it will stay awhile 
If it leaves you it was never yours to own
 
I think I heard them tell me they loved me 
They'd care for me, without them I would die 
What's the use of roots if you can`t spread them 
What's the use of wings if you can't fly

xXx 

I recogise the worn grey stone
So weathered by the rain,
And push aside the great oak door
 - So much is still the same

And still they celebrate the feast
In ways I know so well
The words imptinted on my lips,


The silence for the bell

Still all are welcomed, open smiles
Still song, prayer; still laughter,
Little patter of little feet,
Guardians follow after

And still this church in faith unites
To push old trials aside
To strengthen old community
- To make a fitting bride

It is always strange going back somewhere are a few months absense - gives you a new insight/perspective. I suppose this mostly stemmed from that. The rhythm is a little clumsy maybe, and forced in places... but it is sometimes simpler and clearer to write in verse. 

Some say love, it is a river,
That drowns, the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor,
that leaves, your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you it's only seed.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking,
That never, learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking,
That never, takes the chance.
It's the one, who won't be taken,
Who cannot, seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dying,
That never, learns to live.

And the night, has been too lonely,
And the road, has been too long.
And you feel, that love is only,
for the lucky, and the strong.
Just remember, in the winter,
Far beneath, the bitter snow,
Lies a seed, that with the sun's love,
In the spring, becomes a rose...

                                  Leann Rimes

Maybe she sums it up, maybe she doesn't - who is anyone to comment. It is however a beautiful song so you will forgive me indulgence.

xXx 

Oh childish sleep
How you taunt, with leaden weights, these eyes;
Your fair promises, false as Jacob and his sheepskin -
Deceptive - of rest to this
My weary soul

Oh fickle sleep
With Delilah's constancy you flit,
Oh! so graceful, between you lovers with
Caresses and wining smiles - will you not
Remedy my loneliness
This cold night?

Oh cruel sleep,
Denying your company, salatious visitations to all but
the most needy, leaving a scent - calling cared
Dropped carelessly on a
Cold pillow

Oh honest coffee!
A students delight, oft warm and kindly
Companion through the night -
Soft kisses, quench the sting of dear sleeps flight.

xXx