Don't Know Where I'm Going, Got No Way Of Knowing.

Crawling through the undergrowth at 1am I realised the song I was singing was the theme tune to Max & Paddys Road To Nowhere

It's What They Deserve

Well dad, she's still dead so I suppose you could say mother is fine..I mean there's been no major change in her circumstances over the past five years so y'know. But thanks for asking..

He'd wet himself so the carers had to take him away and that left me alone, suddenly and visibly alone in one of the many living rooms of his care home. Surrounded by lots of people whose major movements where made with their mouths but not necessarily vocal chords, about 20 other inmates and I sat in various degrees of stillness.
I don't think they'd noticed me, I had infiltrated the hive and managed to go unseen, the constant cycle of Midsomer Murders...or perhaps my camouflage coat allowing me to slip between their vision.

But now what? I must keep hidden,
I glanced around, a lot of people were talking...to themselves...I thought I should perhaps join in - hijack one of these imaginary conversations. The thought excited me, I mean they could be chatting with anyone! The possible worlds that existed in their minds! what great and beautiful adventures were we all privy too? How gracious and thankful we should be to bare witness to these glorious phantoms
Dear god just let me in!

Is it dementia? Or am I surrounded by some of the greatest performance artists of all time.




He viewed the place with the same disdain and distanced query as I did, he was well aware he was "in a madhouse" but hadn't quite grasped that he was, infact, one of the nutters. Never one to mince his words and always accidentally profound he grabbed my arm and said "nothing ever happens and nothing ever gets done" which threw me wholeheartedly into a momentary existential crisis as I pondered the awful, purely unintended gravity of his words.
This though paled in comparison to his thoughts on the bringing in of the New Year for 2013 where he parted "well you know what I say, one year closer to death"
I mean...he wasn't wrong?

 A few years ago the village to ours flooded and upon hearing this dad said
"good, it's what they deserve"

 Dementia? Or performance art?
Am I ever to know?

Still decades later I get it
"you're him aren't you, you were in that band"
"that was a long time ago now"
"you know my sister don't you"
"not really"

Now some people who had fame but didn't realise the extent of it,
1 became a tattooist
2 I havent seen in years

And Kieran tried to kill himself

Kieran tried to kill himself.

What happened?

Lightless walk. 

Washed in blood

Belly full of god

A perfect little worm feasting on dirt.

We All See You Twitch

It's horrible to see someone else go through death
to be ripped away from that warm and birthed embrace, even those that become theoretical these days.
Because you lose something like a puzzle piece when it gets buried
some old tune so often ignored you forgot how much you enjoyed hearing it.
But that comes roaring back through
How much your body was based on their smallest, slightest inch.
I saw them twitch amongst the ruins of it all.

Some terrible twist of fate conspired for some reason unknown and leaves you layers closer to hell coming apart with the wind all aching your bones
Life in glorious technicolour, darkness in wretched bold
Flowers bloom, shift and move turn bulbous from like decom position
You become your own many  armed god, a thousand eyes staring straight through the veil
beyond events end horizon, melting amongst time.
Whole and mighty, realised and frightening
courageous and decisive.
embittered and fighting.

let us dig, take up spades so we may never be scared again by the face of it
so that we may stare full wide eyed into that grim spectres tar pit.
So that we may live out those promises they placed in their wombs before our atoms were collected.
That we might make something, that we might change something, that we might be all gold full and respected.
Because each of us is our parents saviour, atleast at the beginning, before the fall the loss and dividing of opinion.
A gentle messiah, wrapped in cloth and undecided, born to outlive the night.
Possibility yet unpresent, but ecstatically expected.

We are not the fuck ups death makes us momentarily
We are the new and ever present shining scar it births in us and lined with love and promise
past decaying, present growing, future plotting

Give life to others in celebrations of our dead - give what they can no longer match.
Give love and grace in memory of those who rest their head,

I sit and click my fingers, set a beat to.speak to - spit rhythms dug from dirt and forged deep within the sinews. This mantra is my own, I loose a tongue to testify towards the setting sun that I'll be meditating on the weight of all that glittery gold that's won, to test whether the worth was it, whether sleep can finally come. I sit and click my fingers, set a beat to speak to, and wish peace to all my brothers, sisters trapped deep within the tombs.

Demons are just Ghosts that carry a cross, Christ is a light only lit by the lost, Buddhas the shoulda-woulda-coulda done better, awake at night making the heart strings heavier.