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Saturday, 24 January 2015

The long and the short of a part of my life Volume 1 Page 12

shoulder fixed before. Jimmy asked that Harry go see his doctor in the morning, insisting that he report back to the rest of the band by tomorrow evening; but for now he would have to sit out this rehearsal. 

In the studio Jimmy told Harry to listen closely to the lyrics, to concentrate on the words and not the music, pressed him to seek out the possible sources for the songs story, prized him to measure, to feel if the darkness was balanced by the light. 

Jimmy stood aloof at the microphone, began with a whisper, stepped slowly as if following a rivers swell, before becoming a raging torrent of repetition; repetition without rhyme or reason, but louder and louder, increasingly more tormented. 

Occasionally Jimmy would kick out; it appeared to come from a deep subconscious, or was a reflex that no one understood; the musicians played along, clattering cymbals, thrashing guitars; then a fall back, to the soft sublime steel slide mourning wail, a sound from the deep; a lost soul sound that echoed Jimmy's cry, as if a wolf cub parted from its mother. 

Jimmy's mother loved him but she could not forgive his love of so many others, she was the mother who named him Benjamin, for all the wrong reasons. 

Jimmy had been unable to explain his insatiable desire for love to his mother; so unable were they to talk that instead they fought; and when drink was present they fought with intolerant passion, their hatred, of the desirous love of the others lovers caused wild explosions. As animals they scratched and tore at each others skin, settled only by the drawn blood and the mutual humiliation. 

But Jimmy showed no remorse, to the point that he became a braggart about his beastly disregard for his mothers dignity. It seemed he wanted to strip her totally of her precious dignity, Jimmy wanted to see her bare and bleeding, he wanted his band to see her bare, bleeding and in tears; he wanted all the hangers on, all the down and out and dead beats to see his mother bare, bleeding and in tears; stripped entirely, uniquely stripped by Jimmy of her precious bloody dignity. 

Jimmy lived for music and drink and sex (he called it love). He live so that all his waking hours were entirely consumed by activity.


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Friday, 23 January 2015

The long and the short of a part of my life Volume 1 Page 11

You forget that you have been listening
As friends and silence drift and gently sway

Father and daughter laugh
This is easy conversation
The best of times
No more sitting on the fence

You forget that you have been listening
To tunes on the radio
Family preserved variations
Gulls back from the sea shore
Mottled cherry blossom 
Afloat on the breeze

That is all I could draw
Call it abstract if you will
But there is a go at tenderness
An attempt at insight
A feel for the message in a bottle
A search for a statement of intent

In between the French
And Spanish dictionaries
Serendipity plies her wares

Shadows of the sunset years
Angle-poise, poised upon the picture
Painted, painted just before the dawn

And that's where it stayed
Caught up in indifference
Trapped in some sensible profession
Shunted into the knackers yards
Left to become redundant, old iron
Until the sun rose on that cold day in December

Stillness, silence of the crystal, locked behind glass doors
Matched, as by the forces of equilibrium, by the matching cups and saucers
Jimmy yanked Harry's arm, you could hear the crack across the street
Passers by looked on with concern, had they never seen a dislocated 


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Thursday, 22 January 2015

The long and the short of a part of my life Volume 1 Page 10

By the apparent call for stillness

The artist looks up
With palette knife in hand
Speed painting, in a pastoral style

Back to that day by the river
Two boys at play
Discovered by a father often absent

All through the night the grasses remain
Grazed by ponies, sheep and foals
The forthcoming darkness and silence
Asks that rightful ownership once again descend

Not cured, but stable
Almost no palpitations 
This time of leaving

Death at the roadside
Stops instant
The self-indulgent postulations

I walk to the beach
Paul and Dawn get married
Sunshine dried earth
Cracks the pond-side track
The steel band serenades

Alone in the shade
Of trees and scrub
Sand, more as dust
Fallen timber refuse
Flung far from the Atlantic

In the Tennyson lounge
A pen & ink, of Happy Days
Linked to the wedding celebration
In the sunlit flooded garden
Beneath the gold statue
Of Napoleon on his crazy horse



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Wednesday, 21 January 2015

The long and the short of a part of my life Volume 1 Page 9

Slight breeze
Worn away boulders
Relics of the flood plain

The evenings horizons are transitory
What appears also disappears
Light falls exponential
Coldness gallops through

Strokes in haste; passionate youth
Joined together
By the pasts previous absence

Great stones, about to tumble
Balanced precarious
Dampness and cold
Sit close by, on the shoulder

Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo
Free of all other species
Old posts by the highway
Fine grass in silhouette

Tune in; zoom in
Smaller than the midge
Slower than the slug
Faster than the ant

Bah, bah, bah
As if in time
It is their turn

Deep on the moor
Rise and flight
Of the Canadian Goose
Surely not, not a Canadian Goose

Messages, or symbols, or dreams

A sort of heavenly occasion
Disturbed only


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Tuesday, 20 January 2015

The long and the short of a part of my life Volume 1 Page 8

Trees
Horizon

I Sit, or am laid out, either way it is to take the humbler point of view

Yeos farm
Haddon Hills
Dunchideock
Robert & Janet
A good combination

Rock
Shared with moss
And the beginnings
Of a bilberry bush

Stems touched
Clung with water droplets
I wait for the artist
To gather his thoughts

Arches
Curves
Mist
Telegraph wires half out west

Quiet
Except for the babbling brook
Or the aeroplanes
On the cross Atlantic flight path

The occasional
Acceleration of a car
Travelling to or from the prison

A cavalcade
It is important to visit
While the light holds
For the portrait painter

Bent reeds


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