posted on April 17, 2010 at 1:24 am

who am i….?
i as born in 1954 in welwyn garden city herts england
at an early age i learned to breathe
at a later stage i got my 1st bass
suite 16
never been kissed
did a deal with some devil
my dad said watchit slim !
i immediate bass addict
i want to make your inside vibrate to the pulse
i want to sync up my lips to the unsinking star
i go n make a fucking record
bingo! yes!
eventually confused
whisked here n there
berlin brazil babylon nineveh
oh hi
i in ohio
of all places in some airport hotel
my room is not too shabby
my window is opaque
i can see nothing but grey thru it
my foggy dazed eyes
my ringing ears
my sore throat
my confused mind
a nervous poet type
a dopey aesthete
an austere venerated old boy
oh i type the light fantastic
oh i sing i dance i fall asleep
sorry i am absent today
decided little steven was feeling kinda bilious and
thought he better stay home deep in my id
where he sits in the mirror in lyneham
fiddling with his ludicrous hairdo and plucking his violent bass
his violin bass
boom boom boom he wants to play so well
he can feel it but it cant happen
that boy wants to play then
like i play now but time needs its space
let me be a rocknroll star he prays to his graven craven image of
marco boleyn
who presides over this teenage room of rock adulation
behold the wardrobe is plastered with pics of
alvin lee
neil young
and other black n white pages torn from go-set magazine
the boy hasnt heard some of em but he likes the look
the beatles arrived 6 years ago
the b n w world exploaded into colour glo
now i got me my long hair
now i got me my bass
now i got me my amp
many many years later
the ohio express
the 1st time i heard the word ohio
a bubblegum band
yummy yummy yummy i got love in my tummy
chewy chewy chewy chewy
warped kinda catchy songs
ohio express
wow that sounded exotic to me then
me n tim n pete go eat dinner in a diner
its almost empty
i have a boca burger
the lights make the waitress look like a cadaver in her skinniness
the food is dead n over cooked
the world is a blur of cars rushing by in a drizzle
last night was last life
we played on a stage and we did well
the people clapped n cheered and i smiled
i sang a song or 2 which meant something to em
i shot my words at them and some got hit
they remembered things
old times
past n dead loves
old houses and gone homes
the smell of something familiar but absent
what am i doing?
is it good or bad or neutral?
this is what i have been practicing all my life
to pluck that string
to sing that word
to write your song
the soundtrack to your 9 lives, cats
my voice oh you can trust it
cos it doth not sing of money thing
my song belong in the throng of throngs
universal and subconscious
my songs are just love in a sonic form
love congealed into sound
us 4 who love to make this music
we try to jazz it up
we try to imply not step on your “i”
you should infer thats what we prefer
love this music that now belongs to you
oh i came a long way to ohio today
travel by thought
travel by stone n gravel
travel by wheel whats the deal
travel by gps guided by mech voices
a knight off
a knight at the altar of altered states of america
east coast time being
mean time
my room is quiet and sealed
i hear a distant wind whining in some place
but the sound is comforting n far off here in my room
my bed is big enuff for 4 me’s
i could sleep sideways
i could sleep hovering above it
i could sleep with the stars god knows they are so low
the crescent moon is icy
the whole night says stay in lock yer door
the room is green n brown as usual
tasteful paintings abound
heavy drapes
i am safe at last
can hear n see nothing
like a luxury jail
fire alarm winks green
now im gonna do something else
but…. what………?

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