Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Open letter

hi there God,
I’m here @ your mercy as usual
no, I’m not alone
although at times
I feel like a balloon of emotions
in a world of pins 

I haven’t got much time
(‘here we go again’ you must think)
they say you don’t have either
although yours is a bit of an eternity, isn’t it?
but who am I to judge?(who am I full stop?)

and no, this is not a prayer.
(I bet you had enough of: God, please this, God please that)
and we’re not friends 
on face book or anything
I’m not even asking for forgiveness
as my sins are in progress
and you know it
(don’t you?)

I was just wondering,
with my human mind,
which separated from the soul you gave me a while ago (God, it seems ages now!)
sums up to 0
so, I was wondering
about the schedule
of my personally designed Bang (nosy me!)
my Nokia diary, full of daily tasks or endless ‘to do’ lists could squeeze in the time, the date even the minute 
my minute!
(Nokias are great! The one I have now has blue tooth and GPS and a 12 megapixel camera with video editing. Yes! I know! A M A Z I N G!)

go oooon!

I could really look the part, you know?
the day before
I could care and sing more than I usually do
I could smell flowers, drive over the limit and smile at the cameras on the M25
please others, kiss,
dance tango (which I’m really not good at!)
roll in the grass and hug people I know nothing about
possibly resist temptation (I’m not good at that either!)
and defeat the feeling of: ‘what I want - I get’
(or at least try!)
(what I gather, from your sources)
I do quite a lot of and
it kind of rocks a few boats in the waters of heaven

well, better dash,
you know me (better than anyone, I say!) 
always on the go
give me a sign, 
and my love 
to JC

all yours, God, all yours,



Saturday, March 05, 2011

Cold guitar

and when I wish it to be true
one more time
just this once
the universe listens
and sends down its moons
wrapped up in sonatas
these fingers searching and searching
will they find me?
deep down
where the ropes end
where the light is thin
like a last breath
like a string
stretched beyond death
in a perfect tune
this piece of wood Daddy