Everything’s going wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, we were going to be all right. I was the golden boy and she was the flower child. Turn off the T.V; you are not paying attention to me. I tell you it’s all a conspiracy; don’t believe their story - Words in print - Putting things in your mind telling you what to think.
Listen!!!!! Just for a while. I am not asking for much. Don’t send your eyes to the sun you might burn them, it isn’t worth the sacrifice. Edit the gory, enhance the glory.
I will tell you the story as it seemed to me, No I can’t recreate photographs or reflections and my store does not operate CCTV in the interest of your safety. I can just tell you what I was told or rather what I chose to perceive It began as a dull grey canvas with maybe a shade of blue and then there was a splash of Brilliant Burning Red As it caught my attention I did not see it spread Orange and yellow with purple highlights When I looked again the Angry Red had dissolved herself lost the resolve Somehow merged somewhat submerged Before me was the most glorious sunset From within her I saw the dragon child rise Bigger Greener and more Evil he grew Black Satanic eyes – a forked tongue of an unknown hue Rings of Smoke – Black Bellowing Charcoal Dust The gray canvas was now Dark -with a thousand stars and yet before me I saw thunder and lightning A flash of silver – a hero was born Young and strong Fearless…….and then I looked away Though the thoughts they painted on Green Yellow a streak of white a dab of blue. The picture is almost done but the paint will never dry as I do often decide to add a touch or two…………..
Make believe fantasy
Me – painted on a slate
Stop!!!! There are too many colours!! Too many lives…we are moving to fast in our efforts to erase the past
Green fields, hot sun, Dhanoli station, we are just steaming along another station another bridge we just keep moving on. Rushing headlong into a place we do not know Searching for something we can never show. How did I get here?
I had an interview in the city, the job was advertised in the glossy magazine – the girl in the picture had nice breasts and the pay was good, so I decide to call. And the man on the telephone he said ‘Don’t ask me, I just work here.’ I was on my way; unfortunately, he had decided to come too. And there sitting across from us was this angel.
We are moving again We move to fast everything should be slower and more gentle – played back in slow motion with emphasis on the edges…where the colours have withered away I want to see the angel again and the little nooks where we have hidden things for so long that we no longer know they exist…the fragments from the broken jar for how long they cut up my mind….bleeding myself just to know the guilt…No we were not evil then, there was no guilt – golden boy and angel child. In an old brown coat I noticed her eyes. She was beautiful with her mad red curls – alone and lonely staring at the bars on the window I noticed the puncture wounds – round and perfect. She was infected, infested. I could see the worms in their crawl. They reach her pretty little head, long and curled, eat into her world. They make her ugly and they make me hurt. She seems to be screaming ‘Don’t touch me cause I am infected, don’t touch me cause I am imperfect.’
Wicked eyes– shield me from their lies. And the Helpless cries. Drowning in a world that moves to fast. Everything’s a part of the same swirl.
Stop the scenery…I am getting out…I can see the speed, the stop signs and the exits from this freeway, only after I have zipped past them. I can see myself in my red sports car with the windows down and the wind in my hair. My thoughts they float and they fly like butterflies, like this cotton ball I will rise. Sucked in by a vortex, pull out the plug stop the water before the sink overflows – the damns will break and the villages will drown. Fat cows branded and bloated still manage to float.
And she was still there – perfect. Peaceful serene goddess with her needle infested veins and glazed eyes. Look beyond their lies- she said. Virgin island paradise sold on a frozen slice of pizza pie.
Do you see her there? Hiding in the corner she used to be a friend.
A wonderful person if only you knew. But, she knew right from the start and she didn’t really care. Hundreds and thousands, ugly, dirty, cold, beautiful, warm and made of gold and somewhere out there was me. Floating on my river drowning in a sea, blowing in the wind, trapped in its wings…one day she knew we would meet.
I don’t know where to start because I don’t know how much to say. She talked I listened. The voice of the voiceless cannot be crushed, like the wind – saying a million things without a voice. But then if it were like the wind then it would not be her, she was real, not just empty spaces, real like toys or buttons. She only whispered, I listened very hard I heard her every word.
At first I don’t think she liked me very much – I thought I made her cry. I didn’t want to make her cry – it’s just that I was curious. I wanted to see what was behind the curtain and the colour of the bricks below the layers of paint. She, she was not curious, she does not want to know, she is safe in herself, safe in her glazed over world; She and her worms. But soon we learnt our places and our spaces. Hand in hand fingers entwined. Vulture like grip – playing, seeking, searching, soothing, scratching screaming – the lines, the sores, even the puncture wounds, the chewed on finger nails, we knew them well.
I wondered if we were really on the edge - what would happen if we pushed just a little bit further – would it be this free fall in a world without dimensions…would it be like the suction of a vacuum pump in my head maybe it would be this crazy farm of thoughts, some of them nice and friendly like the innocent white sheep in the picture books others like snarling dog or the greedy fat pig. So we just kept going further and further till suddenly - We had no outer limits. Free to explore – limitless and untouched –and yet it felt safe, secure and warm behind the walls. It was like we were in a room of windows not glass tinted or clear Venetian or French but huge open spaces – between the spaces outside and the spaces inside. Something I suppose like ‘the doors’ – things known and things unknown and between them lie the doors. Not doors of perception but doors of freedom. Freedom to a space of our own, freedom to this place between the known and the unknown, this sort of haze where it wasn’t about violent jerky reactions but slow pleasant drift, like a hammock on a beach or a coconut shell out at sea. Thoughts and plans like random strands not vying for attention, not pulling or choking, just hanging around and we could choose not to jump from one lose end to another but float and let go.
We all need our hits, the eternal trick, in our search for the perfect world with no hangover and no hanger-ons and no left over and no bloated stomachs we need perfect sublime feline beauty, watch the cat but the mirrors are all cracked and reflections are we cracked up imagery and so the lover is sad…again. Don’t want a say, don’t want things your way. But the worms were evil. The worms had to die.
She flowered out of season but she never bloomed. This was over before it started. This cannot be the end. I want yesterday again. Yesterdays are always nicer. When I want to be sad I had more reason to be – yesterday, when I am happy I was always happier yesterday. I guess we are changing with every yesterday. When I want her she was always better yesterday.
The future is not important, it will come – eventually and then it will cease to be. But yesterday can never die. Yesterday will always survive. The present is more important because it shapes the yesterdays to come and creates situations for more yesterdays. Actually now is the only time I have control – but I don’t like to be in control so I just let it drift away and form this undistinguished yesterday around which I can build all my fantasises. I like creating fantasises. I don’t dream about the future but create images of the past.
Disillusioned to the core I could hear her say in the unconscious voice in my head - ‘this worlds a dirty whore, you better watch out infected by her disease, we are plunging to eternal decay, something’s got to change, something’s going to give way , someone needs to discover a new day.’ the voice of the voiceless cannot be crushed….
Where was my angel today? The worms were going to pay.
An idea floating in my head as I tracked and trapped it, it died without being realized it was always just meant to be a little thing – beyond my reach it was just a thought. Don’t know how she was born No reason can I find. Before I knew it she was dead. And it was all just yesterday
I tried to hold her hand but she would not let it be. I asked her to come and fly. Vulture talon claws, piercing searing skin. The first step is the toughest, I said, Step out of the birdcage. Far is where we have to go, run till we can go no more.
‘Baby, the worms must die. Scale the mental blocks and accept things that can’t be explained by reason. Expel all thoughts of treason, sometimes the emotions like icicles stand on edge, the words – like a knife, cut where it hurts. We just have to hold on, locked is the door, long is the night. Come with me and we will fly or we will die in the try…’
I need a theatre…Curtains rise……Lightening strikes, like an unwanted child
The worms must die.
I am the master you are the slave…this is my stage…something has to go my way….stop the spin – something is trying to speak…..please give me a break….In the midst of this madness I can still hear the voices – they almost become clearer…Sometimes streaming – nameless and naked I feel ashamed to think of them Sometimes they are not so bad, almost fairy children, pretending to be angels But that is rare. Sometimes they trickle Sometimes they flow mostly they stand still, not caring to grow. All evil and wicked, Infect my angel who is perfect in every way. Tell me –Have you seen the clown today?
I am a circus freak
I am guilty and weak
I need to be protected
But no ones going to protect me
Need to build myself a Cage
I am me I am clay
I am a delicate mould
Eggshell mind fragile child
No one sees how they hurt me
Please protect me….
I am a circus clown
Call on me when you are down
Make you smile – think a while
Come on and bring me down
After all I am just a clown
As you watch me perform
I bring a smile to your face
I am a murderer
The worms must die.
I am me, He is he
The fight can be won
‘…..we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender’
Build the wall. Build the show. Fortify our defences. Reinforcements ride the trains. I am on my way. Victory must be ours today
Screeching brakes. How did I get here? Dazed and Confused. Refuse Resist. Blasting in my head - ‘Tanks on the Streets Confronting Police Bleeding the Plebs Raging CrowdBurning Cars Bloodshed Starts’
Push out the weak
On the roof
What a lovely view
The battles almost won
One final shove
That’s when they took him away
This has gone on for too long
Johnny wasn’t brave
Press the button now
Kill the freak
We need our peace
That’s all they ever see
That’s all they ever say
Freak!!! – covered in the make up
Freak on stage!!!
Freak in the spotlight!!!
Freak behind the painted face!!!
Lock him up and he will be okay
Locked in a cage
Grey building on the corner
With white windows and a blue border
All lined up in rows
Disinfectants perfume the halls
Mad crazy hallucinating beasts
Can’t they see I don’t belong here?
Looney’s with broken hearts and smashed up heads
As I bang my head to be free, the walls are too constricting for I have drawn them close tied them around me. And as I suffocate and choke I cry so my tears will stain the floor and reflect this madman straitjacketed by his world the world he has created for me. My head begins to bleed, as I bang on - to be free, it tears open revealing me - naked I stand stripped - the blood it covers my eyes and helps blind me, the walls they cave in - ringing in my ears the pressure starts to build- I can't stand me. As I collapse - writhing on the floor - overtaken by animal instinct - foaming in the mouth I will not die for I am not on cyanide. I find it hard - it’s hard to find - something buried away deep inside me - deep away from me. I can climb up again - I can stand again push these walls away, wash away the blood and break lose these chains - for I am me - until he takes over.... again - until he wants to possess me.... again...
They wouldn’t let me really win
They decide what we watch
They decide what we read
They talk of love and peace
They spread lies and distrust
Laughing at my fears
Laughing at my tears
Can’t look me in the eye
Fears dissolve into tears
Rain drops leave me drenched
Shivering in the cold
In my ears I hear the band and I am getting left behind again.
In this fish bowl world
He kept staring at the bars
Breathing the tasteless delights
Infinitely warped – by refracting walls
And magnified by the layers
Everything moved in slow curling swirls
The lights dance in their endless twirls
- somewhat deadened by my turns
Fearless weightless he floats
Swimming ceaselessly in the currents of his mind
Is he drowning in me?
Will his lungs burst?
Is he in the right world????
Flying through the day
I am back where I began
I never left my cage
Perched – I preached I screeched
They didn’t even turn to see
Nightingale voice crying of the pain
I want my angel again
But they would not listen
for I am locked out
and cannot participate
As I watch the world fly by
Tears in my eye glittering with hate
You can never paint my eyes because the burn with a fire that’s too difficult to describe
As I slide into my dreams
Float in my feather bed
My mind slowly cleansed
The scent it seeps into the corners
The cracks in the floor
And the folds in my head
Mosaic tiles…cryptic designs
All clear and defined
And the skies open
Symphony in my head
The mark won’t go
I want to know the colour of the bricks below
Come on my bed
Take me to the middle of the sea
Be my island
Be my bed
Be my death
Hate Hate Hate
And again and again and again
Everybody - Then I will be safe
Free to wander – inside me
Step near my cage and feel my hate
A man who cannot show how hurt he feels soon forgets how to bleed
I do not want to be stained
I am not your pain
I am not your shoulder
I am not your terrain
I am not here to entertain
Stay far away
I am the plague
I am undiluted hate
Stay far far away from me
Lost within myself – I am not me, just this entity. All encompassing and omnipresent - my spirit drowns in myself. As I struggle to reach the shore, straining out to reach. Extend your hand, pull me up and help me over the edge. I am calling out to you – frayed ends of sanity.
Then they spotted her on the street. They screamed -
Freak hiding her face!!!
Freak cowering in shame!!!
Freak with her needles!!!
Freak – with her painted face!!!!!
almost there now
Swaying swinging singing
Line the sights
Just one more shot
She will be dead
I am nearly there not half as naked but twice as bright - bringing glory to the endless night. Give me a chance please….
I though you said she drowned
I don’t know – I just said she was dead
They shot her didn’t they?
Elephant graveyard paradise
The river is too shallow
Drowning in our shallow world
This freak fest shall end
I bet that’s what they said.
It somehow seems to me that we are ashamed of our madness ..as we are ashamed of our nakedness….we hide ourselves using social norms and brown polished shoes…There is something about being mad and finding your madness that frightens us so much….that we seek comfort in numbers and norms…we must all look the same…feel the same…taste the same…be the same…my madness is me….but think of our institutions…they are all tools of propagating this sameness……schools temples t.v….all ways of putting us in boxes…with our own kind….so that this sickness can spread….