No other just cause...

...than to follow the strong scent of life,
that takes us from here and into decency,
away from the perpetual longing,
that haunts a lonely and nameless population,
ones that are not us,
we grow and pick the moment,
our time to be,
we choose to rescue, we chose to be something more,
than even we remember.

Our fathers knew better,
but their message was lost,
they grew old and troubled,
and we stood as their root,
thick,
now a pretentious cloud passes,
and the young become the elders,
and pass on what they can.

Something led me here...

...I don't know the name of the disease,
from which I suffer.
But one day, as sure as eggs are eggs
and birds are not bees
(another species altogether)
I will infect you.

A deliberate accident.
A clumsy changeover.
An contaminated beaker or glass.
The poison spills.
This is the last.

Amazon

She's an Amazon
She shops on line and saves money
She's in the jungle and independent, unorthodox,
A vixen fox,
Be the queen if only somebody needed ruling,
The teacher if they had to catch up on schooling,
She's an Amazon
From Basildon, or the Home Counties,
Malls and creepers, police and bounty,
It's an origin,
Of the species thing.

I'm comin' around

A song about jealousy and other little hidden dips, trips and experiences:

Maybe you should step out with him,
Dance in the spotlight and share his grin,
Bathe in the milk and breathe out again,
Twinkle like starlight and shed your skin.

I'm coming around, I'm coming around,
I'm coming around, I'm coming around,
To your way of thinking.

I'm coming around so I face up to you,
I'm coming around to see your light,
I'm coming around for a biased rendezvous,
I'm coming around to set things right.

Over the hills

Over the hills and farther away than I can go
Locked in shadows I cant quite see through today
Backed into a corner and a dark unlit pool
Some kind of stretched longing
Some kind of well served memory
Puzzles and shapes

I think of Grey Havens or some other film's ending
A curtain pulling closed and my daemon no more
The end of the school play with no encore
I can never go back, no more than you
The spooky places reign.

I was clumsy at times and took things for granted
I made the most, watched, learned or I ignored
But I still believe myself to be a good person
As your fun, and killer instinct pulled me out
As you left your mark all over the place.

Thanks and sleep peacefully.

Nothing

Nothing is all that and more, nor is it remarkable.

Taking credit for a crunch

There were piles and there were heaps, for keeps.

Money, sand and oil, staple foods and furniture,

Jets and company nomenclature

Real estate and squeezed up landfill,

Coke machines and traffic lights,

Now life runs to a standstill.


A junkyard angel to see fair play,

A bully and a bigot to run away,

A secretary to hold the calls,

A statistician to count your balls

A bonus, a gold card, a clever hunch,

A three hour champagne business lunch,

Let's all take some credit for the credit crunch.

Art is wherever

Art is where it is.
In the long run.
In the short stop.
In the place and at a certain pace.
Space.
Effort makes art a special thing that thrives best when unappreciated.
Misunderstood is also some how good.
But be under no illusion, the paint that watches your ideas dry out will take revenge some day, far away and peel.

MMIXa

Newer Year

Fingers stuck in the door of 2009,

The melted chocolate of time

Where war breaks out and the moments melt

As things unknown pivot on the different day

And we seem worlds apart but nestling.

I speak five words or five lines but never enough

Talk is cheap and cheap talk is tough

Here come the signals from above

Driven from heaven and on your head like a dove

This must be love, love, love.

I want to mix things up but my energy’s bankrupt

A power struggle and crisis looms

From mist to morning, from frost to loss

Here in the warm alternatives we can belong.

Here in the New Year we can be strong.

pools

When I say we wrote a piece of music and called it pools what I mean is we didn't really write it at all as no pens, paper or other writing instruments were involved in the process. The music just came about, was put together and then for a time forgotten, then remembered and remixed and there was a funny noise at 2.10 but I just left it in though I tried to cover it on one version. Then I thought "what the hell" and so I saw it as just something getting bothered about about nothing. It wasn't really about pools either but the image came up along with the overall sound. It was made using guitars, effects, a drum loop and a keyboard and I'm quite pleased with it. (Am I writing this from an "I" or "we" perspective and does that matter at all?). Sometimes things just happen for no reason and in the end you get something new (or new to the listener). I think it will be Christmas soon but that's nothing to do with the tune either.

Leek (and in this case turkey)

Leeks are green and white and long,
Is there anything they've done that's wrong?
Have they started wars or slaughtered whales?
(They've some mild association with Wales,)
They can turn their talents to soup or stew,
They're versatile and under used,
They fit the bill and feed the weak,
So let's give some recognition to the humble leek.

Kitchen animals

Most animals that make it into a kitchen are either dead or functional. The squirrel here is functional as he also has a separate career as a real nut cracker and provider of cracked nuts - useful. The monkey however lacks any real functionality and has since expired as a result of an illness brought on by excessive cigar smoking (as per the warning on the pack). Some dead animals may also be lurking in small packs in the fridge or encased in a case of tin in some cupboard or other.

Children and dogs

Goodbye, farewell the pub's not open yet,
Goodbye, farewell the pub's not open yet,
We only serve our lunches from 1pm till 2.
Children and dogs are welcome,
and a happy day to you.

Red but not quite dead

From the days when Victoria reigned over an empire and not a secret,
The red of the post man's charge and duty fades to flowery white,
The mice and squirrels run past and ignore the damage and change,
They care nothing for the cast iron hands of time passing old faces.

The ghosts from the village houses send out messages and notes.
At midnight some may read the few lines they wrote,
Scratchy pens and blots and gummed paper to seal,
Folded and posted to far away places like Dundee, Edinburgh or Australia.

Now the spiders webs are thick and grey, today's rain drips in,
The grass is as green and collected in a dirty wheelie bin,
Range Rovers, black dogs, tractors and funerals pass by,
From Victoria to Elizabeth in the blink of an eye.

Things we like

I've no clear idea why this is here other than to take up some valuable space that could otherwise have been better used in a more worthwhile cause.

Trick

A trick of the lazy light, see the tall trees that lead to the end of the path and more trees. Ornamental and serene, organised and bright, plantings and planning and the schemes of old men dug out by their young workers.

People come and sip cool drinks and chat and talk and laugh about this and that and what ever seems important enough or trivial enough and that is relaxation.

Once the weather breaks the slopes are empty and the paths run with rain not feet. Watch the sky through glass, let the evening fall and let the storm clouds pass.

This was part of summer and has registered.

Never mind the font

Warm wine like you might drink on holiday.

Radio Two or is it two or is to or might it be too also.

Neon Neon on My(Feking) Space

Fleet Foxes are the new CSNY who were the new COOP.

A cut and bruise obtained on your left hand index finger does little for guitar playing techniques.

For some reason I was putting together all these tracks.

The science of science fiction now governs all of our lives and this could be the biggest thing you've been involved in to date.

Struggling with backing vocals.

I don't quite know what to make of the Clone Wars.

Toast and cheese and wine and rice pudding, you are welcome to it.

I didn't buy

The first record I didn't buy, I didn't listen to any tracks, I opened the cover but didn't read the sleeve notes. It may have been playing in another room or in the house next door but I couldn't hear. I didn't borrow it from a friend or buy it second hand for fifty pence. It was never in my house or bedroom or carried to school under my arm or in a back pack on the bus. There may have been reviews in the music press but I didn't read them and I can't remember the track listings. Was "Ride a white swan" on there some where or was that just a single? None of that matters now as the two guys playing in the band are dead and gone any how and I'm still here but not hearing them.

Tom Horn

Tom Horn, you woke up this morning and wished, you'd never been born.
Tom Horn, a simple life, undone and lost, forlorn.

We all need to grow, we all need to change, we all need to understand the virtue and the range of our time. Time is sublime, you need to change, Tom Horn.

Useless Money

When the day is done. You have piles of useless money.
When the sun falls down. You can't spend your useless money.

Useless money grows on trees.
Brings relations to their knees.
Useless money won't pay bills.
It counts you out and steals your will.

In every shopping mall. People spending useless money.
You can't catch an eye. They're all blind to useless money.

Useless money's tied up more.
In property or just off-shore.
In the chip in your little card.
Try to claim but there's no reward.

Try to claim but there's no reward.
All you've got is useless money.