Heart tapes

October 14, 2010

Sometimes, when I’m at a loss for words. I just type.
This is one of those nights

Heart tapes

 

People will come and go
From your life
Like a badly paced play
From the wings
Please exit stage left
The love of your life

In my attic
There is a box
For heart tapes

Yes your name is on one
Of course it is
What did you expect
A blank canvas?
No, it’s there
In big black marker pen
The default soul mate

I lack the ability to cry
I fend off cobwebs
I drop every other plate
I will make the grade
If it kills me

Forget
Forgive
Forget
Forgive
Forget
Forgive

I am currently away from my desk
I will be back on the 25/12/2010
Incubator light
Swaying over head
Casting my shadow
My ambitious shadow

I don’t keep the tapes here
The place is too dusty

Exactly how far is too far?
If we go all the way will it matter?
I mean
It’s only skin
And breathing
Lost looks
Panic
Elimination
Convulsions
And paradise

In my attic
There is a box
For heart tapes

It takes time to fully feel the after effects
Some dizziness
Headaches
Anxiety

If you call back in the morning I’m sure she’ll be there
Phone in hand
Head tilted to one side
Lip gloss
Narrowed eyes
Speaking in tongues

Some people struggle to love themselves
Others have trouble stopping
I cannot for the life of me remember
How I ended up here

One hour
Before my Grandad died
He told my Dad
His Son
There was nothing left unfinished
He left this world
As he lived it
Heroic
Elemental
Beautifully
Christ-like
And
Quiet

If I turn out to be half the man he was
I will be near-perfect

In my attic
In my rib cage
There is a heart
Try to align with it

When you’ve put her to bed.

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6 Responses to “Heart tapes”

  1. A* said

    Wow….I find myself at a loss for words, as well. I think they call that “stunning.”

    • As the doctor would say, better out than in right? I dont know why I should doubt myself when I’ve written three albums worth of heart on the sleeve lyrics.
      Poetry and prose feels like a very elitist art. Like if you have no structure and rhythm you’re a heretic or something. blah blah x

  2. A* said

    I wish you had a tumbler account so I could repost these incredibly “native-alien” thoughts that cross the skies of your consciousness, and land in the cenotes of my soul.
    xo

  3. Ebby said

    Hello,
    How nice to find you here.

    Do you hear music as you write? A friend of mine, a musician like you, disregards the remarkable poetry that he writes if his mind doesn’t provide it with a soundtrack as he is writing it. He will not accept that he is a poet with a musical-genius gene, he insists he is a lyricist. I am not sure of the difference personally.
    Writing for catharsis somtimes produces the best work and should never be dismissed.
    Pop by sometime if you get bored and need something quick to read. Much love to your family.
    Ebby x

    • No, I tend to treat them separately. I’m aware it’s pretentious of lyricists to assume that their words are as good as poetry. But then I guess it’s to do with how good your observation is, and your image making. Like for me the words on the nationals ‘high violet’ are astounding. But they work better within the context of the music rather than when you just see them written down so I suppose that’s the trick. Is your writing good enough to survive without the music. I shall pop by in a second x

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