Inviato 30 agosto 2011 - 13:52
John Taylor's Month Away
I love to look out at the sea
From the swing park here at Roome Bay beach
Today John Taylor starts his month away
On a boat, 110 miles east of Aberdeen.
A dozen men, 30 days with 24 hours in each
Of shattered boyhood dreams and not much sleep
I'd much rather be me, for once I'd much rather be me.
A month at sea and then they'll surely sleep
With their heads still stuck on land
A month on land and they'll surely dream
Of girls they can afford but cannot have.
And in a drunken haze or on a rolling wave
Once again I'd much rather be me
I'd rather be me,
Once again I'd much rather be me.
For once again I'd much rather be me.
__
Bats In the Attic
And I've gone silver in my travels,
growing silver in my sideburns
I've started to unravel
Heard my heartbeat on a downhill,
I counted 18 on my pulse
as Kilrenny church struck three
For 3 o'clock what else?
What else?
And you said 12 years in retirement.
The hours go by like sips of water.
The record lies unbroken
and no doubt it's white flour in my diet
That's going to be the death of me
A sweet drum roll for those embittered big ideas.
It's such a waste of all that I had.
You mentioned bats in the attic
so now you're lifting off the tiles
To get around those conservation rules
I'm locked down in the basement
I'm hanging upside down
I gag across my mealy mouth.
And how I'll laugh out loud about that.
When I read your simple novel
That uses all our real names
And go make yourself a fortune
There's nothing left for us
Than us left dangling just a little shamefaced.
It's such a waste of all that we have.
And it's such a waste of all that we have.
And it's such a waste of all that I am.
__
Running On Fumes
And what do you mean
Our hill's not all that steep?
When the gauge reads half a tank,
And yet you've run on fumes for a week.
You and I we once looked fine
Until you split your lip against the side of my face
So why to we bother with all this fighting
And especially at our age.
And you never did write down their names
So why break bones for them?
And blacken eyes in you rage?
You and I we once looked great
You and I we sounded fine
And you had high notes but also high kerbs
I gave long stares but I now take shorter steps.
For after our accident we lost our no claims
And now I hate those pastel shades
That are just within my vision range.
You and I we once looked fine,
Until you split your lip against the side of my face
So why do we bother with all this fighting
Especially at our age.
_
Bubble
I won't let you fall as low as I've been.
I promise to crawl until I'm back on my feet.
If something were wrong do you think I'd leave?
If something went wrong don't you know I'd be here.
So who's been unfair who causes you sorrow?
And who's been unkind who burst your bubble?
And who drags you down, down, down, down
Who handed out lines and now I'm in trouble.
I leave you to grieve tear over my letters.
Pen frenzy the pace rain squall in all weather.
You'll rue your regrets, that drop out the present
Harl abuse at the wall heap scorn upon treasure.
I won't let you fall as low as I've been.
I promise to crawl until I'm back on my feet.
If something were wrong do you think I'd leave?
If something went wrong don't you know I'd be here.
_
Your Own Spell
I see you're soaking up praise while we're gasping for rain
Run indoors now lest you shoulder the blame
Save your water kill the roses
Save your precious water kill the roses
Summer drought it's all your own spell
Don't waste you water kill the roses
Arriving late in church you dress is soaked
Don't you look miserable
Pinned to the dress oh look a dry white rose
You should be proud
Summer drought it's all your own spell.
_
Your Young Voice
It's your young voice that's keeping me holding on
To my dull life, to my dull life...
esoteros
I have spoken softly, gone my ways softly, all my days, as behoves one who has nothing to say, nowhere to go, and so nothing to gain by being seen or heard.
(Samuel Beckett, “Malone Dies”)