I get on quite easy
living life as a spy,
I’m a stupid kinda person.
what kind of a stupid person am i?
I like train spotting and breeding guppies.
i want to be like all the yuppies
in this town who pass me by
and never say hi
but when i’m left alone
I like to contemplate night.
When the feeling is never right
I start to daydream
about nothing and
that only matters much to a stupid person like me
My mind turns straight to whiskey.
i might just love it more than night?
i just might drink myself to get myself right
i just might drink myself more stupid and start a fight
i love falling over and getting dirty hands
i love to use words like magic and psycho
and say things like “no one understands”
but when i stop my talking
that’s a when i start my walking
down to get my fix
and fill myself easy
with a mix of cheap thrill
i’m a stupid kind of person out for the kill
i used to write
my heart out
without any doubt
without any fright
but somewhere along the heartache and years
there seems to be a build up of unsound fears
in a frantic state
inside an emotional ride
takes me to the other side
sick and unfit
the only way out
is to move through it
be silent and still
and in the right state of mind
and know myself
better than to let
any thing or anyone
me down –
the truth is those things don’t matter to me
i matter to me
knowing myself is what sets me free
Having balls is a good thing
having raw passion is a good thing and a rare thing.
To have both passion AND balls is what makes someone great.
I miss the great ones
I miss the lovers
and the dreamers/creators
I miss the artists
I miss the tortured souls- the poets…the journeymen …
and I mean the real ones
the real risk takers
the real love makers
the ones that do what they were born to do
unafraid of being who they really are
the ones that live for what they love
and the ones that love to love.
it has nothing to do with image
and everything to do with heart and soul
and pure being
I miss the truth in them
I miss their passion
I miss having them around
I miss them knocking at my bedroom window at 3am
driven by desire
driven by love
and…That feeling –
that wonderful feeling of hope and wonder
and the excitement in life and love
I miss the fire
The soft moss swimming;
It is the dying spirit.
Desiring, I hide.
Pink shore, serene breeze.
The flat, upright sparkle shines.
Lost moon, velvet spirit.
Walk, swim. Drown
With blunt leaves
Wither, decline. With sharp flames
Write, fade: fluttering.
Purple, tender, falling,
Your eyes sits in wait
A mermaid arises,
And Forever Shines on
“If you’re frightened of dyin and you’re holding on…Youll see devils tearing your life away.But…if youve made your peace,Then the devila are really angelsFreeing you from the earth…..from the earth….from the earth”
Tonight’s show was beautiful
But it made me realize
This whole thing isn’t for me.
I don’t belong here