Crying For Her...

Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Crying For Her...

there is a song I have, I wandered the streets in the dark past houses, inviting them, could you believe? to a gig, those who were praying invited to a gig, for a woman who had been a good singer in her life, a woman who had read the Koran...someone flew over me yesterday and told me they had been to the gig, lke Pink Floyds dark side of the moon, that song, Great Gig In The Sky, I have no recollection of it, I got left out in the rain in my eyes, and as I sat at a table waiting for a lift home at 10 that night, heard 'we are waiting'...time to sleep, but the television of mogs eating my dreams was being watched by my dad downstairs, they now seem to have a knowledge of Kabbalah, but the singer got me on the telephone crying and blaming my dad, because I could not sleep...I ACTUALLY see her eyes, before I sleep into dreams of other worlds, they discuss me and say I am too Irish, I belive I am a Hebrew man, there, but we don't call it 'up there'...the song was she said, written for 'you and I'...or maybe I think egotistically, we wrote it??

'I flew to you...

you wrote me long distance, you screamed my name...

no guns, new yawning'
like I do at times now, when I wake up, yawn and stretch out my arms fully...

it brings tears, and I play it when I am crying her, I don't know the artist, Micah, someone, I look it up for you...

she talks to me through the birds, and you have to understand what that is like, I have found this so hard, thinking almost everything is dead...My little sister, breathes strangely in her sleep and I hear over and over again:

'we are not dead.'

I clasp my hands together and pray for her to stop saying that, but I am praying in the closeness, and she finally moves round in her bed and stops, it is hard to breathe here, we live on a main road...
'like the opposite to excorcist' I tell her the next day...

I saw a man with a beard hold a baby, just before I wake up one morning...today I kick a Lion King ball underneath my feet, a baby lion...

I had a weird dream this morning involving my own family, sitting on swings next to my grandad in the middle of a supermarket carpark...

I discussed all day yesterday, could they come back in a space cruiser? knock on my door today? would she be there knocking on my door, in a kind of green dress, I imagned as she said she would wear green, and she would have drove over in a stolen car, appeard in a country cabin, with a baby in her arms, BUT they would have called us both gay I hear, so then what if she turned up as a man, with a baby in her arms, dark hair, bright eyes, or perhaps in disguise as a blond, in the cigarette shop, and would I be running down the stairs to open the door, and have a heart attack, would we have to have benefits to live on, or would we be rich like she said? how old would she be? my age? a little older? how could she come live here and die here, there are so many impossiblities, if she came here would she/we get back?? and all those arguements and discussions with the others...where she get a bank account, will she really send me a gold letter to my door....IMPOSSIBLE in this world...it almost happened but I explained how dangerous it would be...

We are not dead...I wrote a poem last night, when I went to bed as early as possible, reading Paddington Bear, but I don't rate it...here it is anyway, 2 minutes drafting:

it seems terror is there, when you speak of hope
it shows hell is here, when our voices are broken
if the whole world revovled around our bed
every 'i love you' would be snatched between their teeth,

you told me you would be here tomorrow
i prepare for you by crying on the floor
the dog will wake me barking, hoping you will knock on the door,

each one has turned to jester
my life is dull, you say, eyes flash left though i'd need an eyepatch for every wrong act and word heard,
the telephone lines are crying,
you are waiting for me to get to the party
i asked if you could come back today...

See, stuck, fearful words, lame...

I managed to write two emails to friends today, after finally getting over this crying depression...I woke up crying her today, but I am meeting a friend today too,

'what will be, will be.'



The flat won't be finished for another 4 to 6 weeks due to the firemen breaking the electricity meter...hell. i mean heck.