Monday, May 21, 2007

Different Joy

She grew up in the land of the hearts
Where the trees grow tall
And the leaves don't fall.
She was the apple of everyone's eye,
They all came to sing her lullabies.
The stars they all shone for her
And the rivers they all flowed for her
For when her first tooth fell
They found a treasury under her bed
It was as if the whole world were her pie
And she, the garden's beautiful butterfly

But now her eyes tell a different tale
Of a world broken and stale
No more sleepy lullabies and the rivers have all dried
And when you ask her why
She just throws up her hands and cries
Cries cries cries cries...
And between the empty spaces
Of teardrops and wine
You get to hear it all over again
A tale about heartbreaks and how it ain't fair
How the good one got away
And left her standing still
Alone alone alone...

Then I hold her
Not because she's in pain
But for the disillusionment she won't proclaim
And I tell her with my arms around her
That baby, life's the same for everybody
We all have the same stuff happening
All the same hurts and joys
But we all have different ways of watching it go by
We are all different spectators of our own lives
So what you see pain
If it were to happen to me again
I would just brand it a different joy

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Why would you deem it wrong to forgive?

It wasn’t the perfect setting, but it would do. The greatest rock band of all time was in the middle of their greatest rock act on a London stage - ah but thats all superfluous and secondary information - a tease to tweak your attention a wee bit. I suspect authors have done far worse horrors and I don't even claim a stake at "Authorship".

She’d been to this concert hall before, but it wasn’t like this and she could bet that it never had been. Taking a last gulp from the coke bottle (spiced for ambience) and her brain fizzing with the amphetamine sulphate taken earlier - she roared the words of the song, going to a frenzy and to a place where she could almost forget what he had told her earlier.

Just after they had made love, when he’d gone quiet.
“What’s up baby?” she'd asked.
“Its all fucked” he said.
“Aw come off it now...there’s nothing wrong. Life’s all pretty and beautiful” She'd replied.

Then he turned around, his eyes were moist and he looked like a child.
It was then that her first and only lover told her that he’d been fucking someone else...earlier ....right here....same bed ....the one they shared every night.

It had meant nothing : a mistake - he tried, as the extent of his transgression became apparent in her reaction. He was young and learning about boundaries as he saw his emotional vocabulary extending out in front of him, just a little too slowly.
He had just wanted to tell her - to be straight with her.

It was true - it was a mistake...a bloody human mistake.

Her anger and reaction he understood : his would have been no different. But then she took it too far...all the TV mind washing and magazine women lib stories...she didn’t realise that she had an option to forgive and forget. How could she? He had to be punished....severely ( was there any other kind?). She had to show that two could play at the same game...revenge, revenge, sweet happy revenge. This relationship had no chance and all the mind numbing bullshit that Oprah’s living comes off, came streaming through.

4 years on - she’s had a failed marriage and he won’t open up in his new relationship; after all he doesn’t trust love and its non-understanding non-forgiving ways.

If only she could forgive...but she’s just bloody human.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

Things to do while I am alive

- Learn to fly fish somewhere in the Scottish Highlands
- Camp on an uninhabited island
- Spend a week in the backwaters of Kerala
- Drink a margarita on Isla margarita
^ Take a Bar-tending course
- Shoot a hole in one
^ Take parents on a vacation
^ Cruise to the Caribbean
- Run with the bulls in pamplona
- Visit Venice before it drowns
- Attend the Argentine polo championships
^ Gallop on a horse across an open desert
- Win a karaoke concert :)
^ Start a band
- Publish my book of poems
- Bun-gee jump, sky dive and scuba dive
^A Vegas weekend

Since I don't possess the inclination nor the time to figure out this blogger thingy and maketh it jazzier; I shall use the symbol "^" to denote stuff on the list already done - come to think of it "^" does have a jazzy aspect to it...ah whatever!