posted on July 20, 2018 at 10:50 pm

turn off

night does its merger with day

i’m on tv no i’m in a cold room

no I’m in a car being driven somewhere

a plane lands

the turbulence shakes me awake

someone asks me a question

someone offers me a drink

someone proffers me a microphone

I can’t remember I seem to be saying

no I can’t seem to remember thats what I can’t say

the time concertina

the audience I mumble

they were animals…

the camera zooms in on my face

but thats not me surely: a voice in another room

my handle on a situation

my guitar has become detached in some space

I reach out to it from this dimension

yet it all slips from your hands

we were rehearsing  I say looking at the lens

I recoil from the memory of the noises

the hard wound strings rip my finger to pieces

I stare at someone in the crowd they are singing along

until a bird hit our windscreen

I jumped out and strolled around my England

I sighed and I acquiesced to the castles and the rivers and the pounds

on the tv show they have a lovely backdrop

I wish I lived in there instead of out here

I was shaking someones hand and kissing a baby

the absinthe made it foggy I couldn’t see more than 2 inches

the taxi was cold at 4 am as I huddled against my guitar case

the line was long in the draughty fluro

the queue stretched across the isles

as I walked out on an encore

a floozy hurling insults

the plane shakes above the cold atlantic

my confidence is suddenly diminished in a white dawn

I feel sick I say to someone who probably didn’t even listen

drink some water Steven says my friend

I got that weird fainting feeling again mummy

thats the aliens son she says but her gaze is now unfocussed

I love you mum I’m waving from the window of this plane

im sitting next to Tim in 13K

in the middle of a song the turbulence again

a tiny warm hotel room where my suitcase erupts no pyjamas

in the lift with the others we talk about someone elses music

someone is enthusing about something

the others are bored and quiet

the cafe was about to close I sat near the window

the soundcheck had dragged on until my bass complained in huge moans and groans

suddenly I snap fuck off and leave me alone

the hostess sticks my veg breakfast in front of the screen

its the story of my life

I’m young me for a moment no whoops its gone

its him doing an impression of me

its me trying to be him

he remains elusive

the blokes in the crowd cheer

I try to remember to smile

no seriously I must be dreaming this part

a guy and his wife at the airport

can we get a photo

but I’m late and supposed to be on stage

theres your dream says a voice going round on the luggage carousel

another sleeping pill fuck I must be hooked

but I can’t stay awake at the wheel of fortune

karma dictates

dharma demands

in my cold blue pool I freeze the ache out

I climb up the ladder and I’m free

 

 

 

 

One Response to “catalogue of reveries”

  1. avatar
    andy | 23 July 2018 at 12:04 am #

    ‘uncle’ buck dharma?


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