Here and nowHere you areYou pointYou pontificateYou're frustratedI will not listen to youtelling me where to gowhat to dotalk of peoplelike you can shop for themlike you can join the queuelike I need an excuseI could plunder the unknownI could wander till my life is throughbut here you areSo here will do.
To my absent friendIn the time it takes for younot to read thiswe could both be dead.Or you might like that, ever theterminal romantic, ready for the dramaof things not moving.In respect,I'll keep this short.Simply that I hate the thought ofyou not being there,wherever you are, or who youare being, or for whomyou care.The days behind ushave become adjacent,so although ahead we may be undone,your life and mine, though imagination,have become compressedandyour image burned.So, if one day you should find yourselfFalling down the rabbit hole orLost in some abyss, never to returnKnow that in every second spent (and gone)there is a Loveof everything you ever were.
The Destroying LightThe streets are all the sameon this dark nightWith the city miles away,and behind me, the brightlure of the usual parade.Alone now, in the parkThe thoughts that stalk meAre lost amidst the treesThat I drunkenly nowthink are friends.Things that I thought closeare distant, and the distantthings are simply done with- Tonight, in this instantunder stars, a peace has comeTill the expectant sky finds mewaiting, and all too soon I willsee that bloodied sightof tomorrow leaking above tree and rooftopin the dawns destroying light.
Matters at handThe false OracleThe eternal sceptic.The ponderer of ponderersThe doubter of doubters.The surveyor of wisdomThe enemy of the absoluteThe defender of the indefensibleThe advocate of mootWants to know where the TV remote is.(and it's not behind the couch, he's looked)
Being someoneI am a child whoHas no friendsI'm a teenagerAnd I've left home againI'm a young man who hasNo food to eatI'm cold and walk the streets.I'm the worrierWho awaits the phoneI'm the travellerWho's been known to roamI'm a sailorWho is lost at seaYet in waves I wander free.I'm a weathermanWho is often wrongI'm the old drunkWho forgets the songI'm a wandererWho has lost sightSo I hope this way is right.