Liked to play with dolls
As little girls.
As little girls will.
But boys who do not know how to dress
Themselves as dolls
Will be dressed by little girls grown
A New poem revised.
We who are hiding in our second bedrooms,
Licking the silver from the backs of our screen,
Are living in a differently timed zone
Of insomniac awareness.
Sometimes 2, sometimes 3, sometimes 4 or more
Lives are lived and lost each night.
In our rooms, by ourselves
Sitting too close to the edge of our beds.
This is our legacy
The lasting perpetuity of our sensory species:
The glow that contests the light that once shone from our eyes,
Right up to the razor’s edge of our understanding of
What is not yet known.
What can barely be thought , much less said and
Yet still dances these words so merrily across this page.
In the ballet of silence that surrounds them.
Who are you reading this?
What perturbs your eternal sleep-walk into the night?
Are there questions you are pondering?
Or are you merely waiting for the screen to pull…
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This turned me on…
A Day In The Life
A Day in the Life is one of the Beatles most influential, powerful and impactful songs in the history of popular music. I’ve read many different accounts of this song’s creation and decided that for my website I would compile and consolidate as much of this information that I could find. My sources for this article are numerous but need to be acknowledged. It starts with Geoff Emerick’s book “Here, There and Everywhere- My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles” (one of my favorite books about the Beatles, insightful, humorous and exciting at times…I’ve read it numerous times and find something new each time I do) and then moves onto “Many Years From Now” by Barry Miles (if you want to know what Paul remembers and thinks about every Beatles song, this book is for you), “All You Need is Ears”
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There’s an emptiness at the heart of any space:
The air that escapes a room; an unanswered echo,
a vacant womb.
There’s an emptiness in my heart
That reminds me that
All of my ideas are empty.
Floating leaves from a fumbled folder.
Coloured streams falling from the sky.
This emptiness reminds me
How slight my desires really are
How gently they fall from the sky
A confetti of mercy and discarded emotions,
They are in the end
Compared to nothing,
Merely the litter from an emptied mind.