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Archive for the ‘Lyrical Laments’ Category

I don’t fit into a box and most of my life people have been trying to figure me out, including myself. During the course of this year I’ve been starting to appreciate that there’s no box big enough to hold the anomaly that is me. A friend sent me an Ani DiFranco song called In or Out which I just managed to listen to. I related. Completely. Thank you Ne. Have a listen y’all…

Guess there’s something wrong with me
Guess I don’t fit in
No one wants to touch it
No one knows where to begin
I’ve got more than one membership
To more than one club
And I owe my life
To the people that I love

He looks me up and down
Like he knows what time it is
Like he’s got my number
Like he thinks it’s his
He says,
Call me, Miss DiFranco,
If there’s anything I can do
I say,
It’s Mr. DiFranco to you

Somedays the line I walk
Turns out to be straight
Other days the line tends to deviate
I’ve got no criteria for sex or race
I just want to hear your voice
I just want to see your face

She looks me up and down
Like she thinks that I’ll mature
Like she’s got my number
Like it belongs to her
She says,
Call me, Ms. DiFranco
If there’s anything I can do
I say, I’ve got spots
I’ve got stripes, too

Their eyes are all asking
Are you in, or are you out
And I think, oh man,
What is this about?
Tonight you can’t put me
Up on any shelf

‘Cause I came here alone
I’m gonna leave by myself

I just want to show you
The way that I feel
And when I get tired
You can take the wheel to me
What’s more important
Is the person that I bring
Not just getting to the same restaurant
And eating the same thing

Guess there’s something wrong with me
Guess I don’t fit in
No one wants to touch it
No one knows where to begin
I’ve more than one membership
To more than one club
And I owe my life
To the people that I love

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My new favourite obsession and the score to the movie they’re going to make about me when I’m gone. Vain, I am 😀

GHOST LOVE SCORE – Nightwish

We used to swim the same moonlight waters
Oceans away from the wakeful day

My fall will be for you
My love will be in you
If you be the one to cut me
I`ll bleed forever

Scent of the sea before the waking of the world
Brings me to thee
Into the blue memory

My fall will be for you
My love will be in you
If you be the one to cut me
I will bleed forever

Into the blue memory

A siren from the deep came to me
Sang my name my longing
Still I write my songs about that dream of mine
Worth everything I may ever be

The Child will be born again
That siren carried him to me
First of them true loves
Singing on the shoulders of an angel
Without care for love n` loss

Bring me home or leave me be
My love in the dark heart of the night
I have lost the path before me
The one behind will lead me

Take me
Cure me
Kill me
Bring me home
Every way
Every day
Just another loop in the hangman`s noose

Take me, cure me, kill me, bring me home
Every way, every day
I keep on watching us sleep

Relive the old sin of Adam and Eve
Of you and me
Forgive the adoring beast

Redeem me into childhood
Show me myself without the shell
Like the advent of May
I`ll be there when you say
Time to never hold our love

My fall will be for you
My love will be in you
You were the one to cut me
So I`ll bleed forever

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Closing Time | by Mr Izalcs

Closing Time | by Mr Izalcs

The last box in the hallway is almost full. Just a few more love letters to add and bank statements to throw away. The sorting is almost done. How could a sticky note with a corny one liner decide to hold such weighty memories within? She fears the very last of them, finally thrown carelessly into the box would make it too heavy for even the burly movers when they finally came to move her memories. She couldn’t bear to carry them out herself along with her already laden heart.

And yet the sadness is not for the memories. As good as they were. Made in moments of purposeful desire and unexpected connectivity. In the most unlikely of places. Many in a dark hole, somewhere in a lost corner off Galle Road with an Iron Maiden album cover painted on the ceiling. Others in a red brick building that housed their coming together in the midst of early morning chats, his mum’s pol sambol & egg sandwiches and countless sticky notes. One that convinced the child in her to take an adult plunge into what she still debates was love. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. He writes it out neatly and places it in front of her as though he had come up with all by himself and reading it, she instantly knows that come what may, she would succumb to the butterfly kisses he would place on her nose and the quiet conversations late into the night over countless glasses of arrack and coke. Being able to share yourself so completely with a cocky stranger shouldn’t be so easy because it makes you believe more than you should. And years later it finally hits you. The distance you go, the heights you reach, all ultimately leave you with very little to take away with you. Like T.S. Eliot said, these were just the burned out ends of smoky days.

The real sadness is for the person who she used to be. The little girl who was so brutally murdered. The dreams she was able to dream. The chase that was so charged that it would almost set off sparks, leaving hairs on edge, crackling with electricity. The days when she thought she knew what would make her happy. The knowledge that she had never felt more at home with the most unlikely person and how she luxuriated in the feel of it, even during their dark days together. The countless arguments should have taught them both a lesson instead of fueling them into thinking that it was just as a result of an overdose of passion.

The sadness is for the children she brought up as though they had been birthed of her. And in a way they were. They shared her soul and she shared theirs. The sadness is for the teardrops shed over their silky coats as they cling to her in confusion, knowing their mother is sad and not knowing how to ease her pain for the first time in their lives.

She tapes the last box shut, wondering if she’ll ever be able to find herself again, if the childlike optimism would ever return. Or if she was to finally accept that all of this had turned her too bitter to be able to awaken that dormant ability for infinite joy again. Death must also feel like this. The inability to cry, the lump in the throat, the urge to scream. Hope. Such a dirty little word for grown ups.

Unpacking the old memories would be difficult in a new home. Maybe she would just keep some of the boxes unpacked. Opening them, only when she was on the edge of falling again, if it was even possible. Opening them to remind her of what would await her. Like a warning. God forbid that it fuel her on into thinking that it was possible to reach those heights again. Silly girl that she was, she knew the possibility of hope being able to escape through the cracks in her heart. That frightening ability to once more let someone else that far into those darkened spaces and places within.

The boxes were ready to go and she could hear the movers scream orders at each other outside. She glares at her empty bedroom feeling a strange combination of numbness & borderline hysteria. One last shrug for all that was lost. She picks up a final package & walks out of the door into the morning sun with a brave smile now plastered on her face. If she ever came close to knowing love, this was probably it. If she ever permitted herself silly thoughts of babies and picket fences, it was with him.

Maybe he was right from the very beginning.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

She has no clue who she wants taking her home ever again. But after nearly a decade, it was finally closing time.

Closing Time | by Pedroza

Closing Time | by Pedroza

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Now I know this wasn’t really an original of hers lyrically, but trust Janis Joplin to know just how to reflect my mood today.

janis-joplin

 

Me & My Bobby McGee

Busted flat in Baton Rouge
Waitin’ for a train
When I’s feelin’ near as faded as my jeans
Bobby thumbed a diesel down
Just before it rained
It rode us all the way to New Orleans

I pulled my harpoon
Out of my dirty red bandana
I was playin’ soft while Bobby sang the blues
Windshield wipers slappin’ time
I was holdin’ Bobby’s hand in mine
We sang every song that driver knew

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no no
And, feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
You know, feelin’ good was good enough for me
Good enough for me and my Bobby Mcgee

From the kentucky coal mine
To the California sun
There Bobby shared the secrets of my soul
Through all kinds of weather
Through everything we done
Yeah, Bobby baby kept me from the cold world

One day up near Salinas, Lord
I let him slip away
He’s lookin’ for that home, and I hope he finds it
But, I’d trade all of my tomorrows
For one single yesterday
To be holdin’ Bobby’s body next to mine

Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’, and that’s all that Bobby left me, yeah
But, feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
Hey, feelin’ good was good enough for me, Mm-hmm
Good enough for me and my Bobby Mcgee

Well, I call him my lover
call him my man
I said I call him my lover did the best I can, c’mon
Hey now Bobby now
hey now Bobby Mcgee, yeah

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Thank you Gypsy and Ranil for re-awakening something inside me in the still of a beautiful night as we all sat on the beach in Unawatuna last weekend.  

Oh, love… 
I get so lost, sometimes
Days pass, and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

And all my instincts, they return
And this grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, and without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes, the light, the heat
I am complete
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
the resolution through all my the fruitless searches
Oh I see the light I see the heat
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light, the heat, I see in your eyes

Love, 
I don’t like to see so much pain 
So much wasted, and these moments keep sleeping away
I get so tired of working so hard for my survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

And all my instincts, they return
And this grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, and without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes, the light, the heat
I am complete
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
the resolution of all my fruitless searches
Oh, I see the light I see the heat
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes

view from the sex room

View from what I have now christened as the ‘Sex Room’ on the 4th floor of Upul’s in Una. If you get the room and sit your ass down on the bed, you’ll know what I’m talking about. 😉

Picture by our very own Gypsy Girl

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The desperate, the restless & the broken-hearted…

 

It’s time.

Tonight is when it all starts to make sense.

We found &  followed eachother in blind faith

And in 5 short months we lived lifetimes together.

Loved, lost, found, hated, cried, desired…

Its not over. Its only just beginning. Tonight.

 

I’m going to quote the Smashing Pumpkins who seem to be much more eloquent about it that I am. All I can say is that there’s this huge well of feelings inside and I can’t get it all out. So, take over Pumpkins…

Time is never time at all

You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change the less you feel

Believe, believe in me, believe
Believe that life can change
That you’re not stuck in vain
We’re not the same, we’re different tonight
Tonight so bright
Tonight

And you know you’re never sure
But you’re sure you could be right
If you held yourself up to the light
And the embers never fade in your city by the lake
The place where you were born

Believe, believe in me, believe
Believe in the resolute urgency of now
And if you believe there’s not a chance tonight
Tonight, so bright
Tonight

We’ll crucify the insincere tonight
We’ll make things right, we’ll feel it all tonight
We’ll find a way to offer up the night tonight
The indescribable moments of your life tonight
The impossible is possible tonight
Believe in me as I believe in you, tonight

Tonight, Tonight – by the Smashing Pumpkins 

The one thing I can honestly say to each and everyone involved in this production… I love you. Each and everyone of you. And I’m going to let that show tonight. 

Tonight my parents and friends will be in the audience, but I perform only for you. 

ON WITH THE SHOW!

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I made a comment to DD about my heart having behaved like a bull in a china shop in the past. And I have let it do so way too many times in my life. Don’t know how the comparison popped into that tumultuous little membrane of mine, but once it did, I realized I was absolutely spot on.

What kind of an idiot actually walks into certain disaster and still doesn’t care? Picture my heart raising both her hands up. It adds to my guy-like behaviour actually. The go-ahead-and-take-a-chance-and-throw-caution-to-the-wind aspect of it. I behave like a man and then react like a little girl. A frightened puppy who wants to whimper in a corner for the rest of her life, after I knew right from the start what the outcome would be. Its safe to say that there are some things girlish about me then I guess. Probably the 33% mentioned in my previous post na?

I do this on the off chance that my gut and every fibre of my being are possibly wrong. What happened to my intuition that never lets me down? How could I have disregarded everything that I have known to be gospel truths about me and gone ahead and made a right-royal fool of myself too many times? In the midst of the growing up process that I was forced to face over the past year, I have realized that what I have proudly displayed as my strongest asset is my weakest. At least when it comes to my happiness.

My heart is as strong as an ox when it comes to the people I care about. But she seems to have no concern whatsoever about herself. She lets me get hurt time and again, when I have always known the inevitable outcome before I set out on my little journeys to make a fool of myself.

I like my calm, safe place. Its issue free and full of friends. So I’m leaving well enough alone. Not just this time. For all times might just be the best options. I know that feeling when it seems like I’m heading for disaster and before it comes a-knocking, I’m changing the locks and shutting down the china shop. This bull’s being sent into hibernation.

And while we’re on the topic, here’s a song to that heart of mine called Eye in the Sky by the Alan Parsons Project

Don’t think sorry is easily said

Don’t try turning tables instead

You’ve taken lots of chances before

But I ain’t gonna give anymore

Don’t ask me

Because that’s how it goes

Part of me knows what you’re thinking

Don’t say words you’re going to regret

Don’t let the fire rush to your head

I’ve heard the accusations before

Believe me,

The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing

 

I am the eye in the sky, looking at you

And I can read your mind

I am the maker of rules

Dealing with fools

I can cheat you blind

And I don’t need to see anymore  to know that I can read you mind

 

Don’t leave false illusion behind

Don’t cry, I ain’t changing my mind

So find another fool like before

Because I ain’t going to live anymore

Believing some of the lies

While all of the signs are deceiving

 

I am the eye in the sky

Looking at you

I can read your mind

I am the maker of rules

Dealing with fools

I can cheat you blind

And I don’t need to see anymore

To know that I can read your mind 

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