Can’t stop

Here’s one more:

I’ve said it before but it bears repeating, like a mantra, over and over.

“It’s the way to write poetry, letting things come” (Pooh bear)

there’s more wisdom in that than in every word TS Eliot ever wrote.  (Or Toilets, as Mark calls him).  I don’t think he’s untalented, I just think he’s overrated, especially by himself.  Who writes notes to his own poems?  And he was a total git to his wife.  These bastards will pay the price.  Whoever said that to be a genius you have to be a total sh*t?  I think the opposite is true.  We need to get back to poetry and the word of god (in the best sense) being the same sense.  Poetry and prophecy.  Or something like that.

Now there’s a way to make money.

Hahahahahahahhaa!

I’ll leave you with Wendy Cope’s Wasteland.  Now there is an unacknowledged genius.  When I am famous I will sing her.

www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/859.html

Love always

L x

One more before I go

to the woods.  where I shall be for the next couple of days.

Thought for every day:

“Give me one firm spot on which to stand, and I will move the world.”  (Aristotle)

L x

No more now

I’m not going to write about these weird psychotic nightmares on this blog any more – I shall keep them for my diary. Like Bertie Wooster, I am consulting a higher power about all this.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeeves_and_Wooster

I can’t go wrong with this – or so I fondly imagine.

Going to the chalet tomorrow so won’t be posting for a day or two.

Eccentrictionary

(more in our occasional series)

speleology – the study of public speaking

exudate – going out with a former partner

2084

You

are the master race

blonde

tall

athletic

- you win.

I

am dark

not tall

I never win

(I didn’t even know

there was a race)

I am the last human

imagine

a knife

cutting a human face

for

ever.

www.rateitall.com/i-728031-if-you-want-a-vision-of-the-future-imagine-a- boot-stamping-on-a-human-face–forever-1984.aspx

Thought for the day

Mark and I are just too good

to be successful

Un mauvais quart d’heure

That was definitely a bad fifteen minutes of almost-fame.  I phoned a couple of friends and cried.  Thanks, Steve, thanks Peter.  Then I took some medicine and went to bed.  ”Thank god!” I thought as I sank into the mattress.  ”I can sleep now”.

Then the nightmares began in earnest.

So I’m opening for Leonard in Cardiff and talking about how he is truly the time lord and I am travelling with him in this voice which is so much bigger on the  inside than it is on the outside.  Or else I say that he is much taller on the inside than on the outside.  There are many ways to approach this.  Then I’m travelling to London to meet him, near the place where I grew up.

This, I fondly believe and hope, is my final song.

Sing (2)

On some other plane we met

and when will that plane land

when will I bowl you over

or smile and take your hand:

when will my violets be red

like roses on your stage

and when will yours be purple

as they stand upon my page

Your voice will not stop singing

No matter where I dive

You’re coming over loud and clear

on runway no. 5:

And if you only smile a moment

into my heart of light

or if you wanna stay with us

forever – it’s all right.

I’m your fan.

Street Cred

I don’t have any street credit

or any store cards

….

This is my karma repeating itself, on a higher level.  Just as I looked everywhere for Dave but couldn’t find him, so I will look for you everywhere and not find you.  But this gives me hope because in the end I found Mark, who was infinitely better than Dave.  i was just hoping that I could short-cut this particular karmic loop, though, since I have a sense of time running out.

Had to go down into a place of bitterness, loss and ash.  I felt utterly desolate.  It is hard to describe where the desolation comes from, but it felt as though I had lost a deep and essential part of myself.  I guess this is merely identification.  But I don’t know.  I’m lost now.

I want to have all kinds of courage

for the reality to reveal itself

and if I am left desolate

still the answer will come

Dylan will sing to me

on desolation row.

Leonard, you always were

one hell of a guru

One more thought

this one throws me into despair.  The thought that I won’t actually meet you until I stop wanting it to happen.  In which case I’m fucked.  because that’s never going to happen.

Cartoon in my yoga magazine:

Man on desert island.  Dressed in loin cloth.  Meditating.

A boat approaches.  Man alights (can you alight from a boat and why do you only ever see that word on buses?)

Approaches yogi with a clipboard

says, Sign here for your bathroom suite in fake onyx, sir.

Caption:  everything will come to you but usually after you’ve stopped wanting it.

I really like this one.

Here’s today’s poem

Polite Society

Sobriquet

is a game

played

between

clinking glasses

and cool stiletto heels

Robert Browning

my favoirite anecdote about Robert Browning is this: when asked what he had meant by a particular line, he said: “when I wrote that line, only two people knew what it meant – God and Robert Browning. Now, only God knows ” Brilliant! If you are not familiar with Browning, check him out. he’s good with yorkshire pudding. My Last Duchess is my favourite poem. www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15701

And there’s more….

Don’t panic.  If it gets any worse I shall call the little men in white coats myself.

A naff come-on

If I said you had an ancient religion

would you hold it against me?

(inspired by parallels between my life and Cohen’s ie he is a Jew, I am a Christian and that therefore his religion is more ancient than mine.  Also, he turned to Zen and I to yoga.  I have always felt a profound connection with him but this means nothing.  This is what it means to be a Cohen fan)

I never did believe

I never did believe salvation lay

in following orders

I’m lost now:

Please Leonard

- tell me what to do.

Here’s a poem about an incident when Ian Anderson was on TOTP  and the cameraman insisted on knowing what his movements would be.  Anderson insisted on being spontaneous, saying he didn’t know what he was going to do until he did it.  That’s my kind of guy.

(the lines should be sung to the melody of the first line of Space Oddity ie Ground Control to Major Tom, slowly and with the second line echoing the first)

For Your Comfort and Convenience, Spontaneity has been Removed From this Poem

Camera man to Jethro Tull

camera man to Jethro Tull

what moves will you do here

what moves will you do here

and where will you be now

and where will you be now

at this point in the song

at this point in the song

and where will it all end

and where will it all end

Jethro Tull replies

I don’t bloody know

I haven’t got a clue

where I’m gonna be

what I’m gonna do

the whole point of the song

the whole point of the song

is to be where you are, now

to be where you are now

and this is where it ends

and this is where it ends

(the melody then somehow warps to the last line of Space Oddity)

Can you hear me cameraman?

Can you hear me camera man

Can you hear me camera man

Can you hear

(some other kind of mixture of the elements of the song to fade)

…….

Here’s a poem about spontaneity

A citizen’s reply to me

when I give this a mention

“will my insurance cover it

and what about my pension?”

Ladimir and Oestrogen (again)

-  Oh god!  And pat, here he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy

- Hi, Pat

- No, you dingbat – his name’s Mark

- But you said -

- I said he was a catastrophe

- who are you calling a catastrophe?

-  You.  No.  Your entrance.  Like King Lear

- Feline punctuation

- what is?

- Catastrophe

- Oh, ha ha.