A Vague Digression, Where You = You
I have always said that Memory is a tricky companion; he chooses to remember things You wish to forget and is playful with the images he leaves behind. Today’s gloom releases a constipated dyslexia of words, pauses amidst rifts of rock songs – I still can’t seem to find the right lines (I can’t see your face in my mind… – J. Morrison).
Is everybody in? Wake up! Awake, shake dreams from Your hair… (still quoting JM, ok, just piece it together after this)
In a comfortable lotus, in the ancient Yoga center/house, she’d call it a mental masturbation – sucking imaginary prana from records of old. Memory taps You from behind and says, “What about Your childhood sandbox?”
Action figures strewn across the sand, if only the world could co-exist in such harmony, princes of the universe playing alongside the turtles, humanoid cats and Joes between robots. Even that sentence seems to run-on in a fantasy playground never meant to exist, childhood offers accidents and blessings to interact and the next day always promises a better story. Memory here, more playful than ever will give You:
the eternal playmate from the house next door,
Miss X and her sweet smile and note,
and an immortal bestfriend that still snowboards.
You can skip time, bend space, perhaps memory is the key to the Newtonian-Quantum question of unification – but who am I to say the least? I wasn’t the bubbly Kuto, I wasn’t googly eyed ZodiacNeurotica, nor the impassioned PostmodernPuta, I was just a stranger with the strange views and a dyslexic way to things.
I always meant to ask if You also thought of the friendship bridge as a gateway to Woodstock, you enter Blue, turn a bit Green and head on the become Maroon. Definitely imaginary, and You dared me to load up, drink-up and write as the stranger, in my world the porch made out with itself, left us a bone and we …Missed the Train to Mars.
Tempted to continue the Story of O, how She begged the prophet to tell her of Sex while dating a guy cause he had a gun. While driving, You’d fish out many splendored things from her purse plus, she bought those heels just for Jim! It’s the spring time of our love…
You can leave the Poker Face for now, Taurus comes with its head down while You play a Cancerian hide-and-go-seek – always remember, it’s just a 40 Oz. to Freedom.
Fool on the Hill…
He never listens to them… But don’t You remember they, those who sang that song, also said, ”There are places I remember… Some have gone and some remained, all these places had their moment… In my Life, I’ve loved them all, But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with You, and these memories lose their meaning when I think of Love as something new”… and they that are more than memories, more than song, end by saying, “…In my Life, I’ve loved You most.”
With or Without You…
You are a character, no more than the trees and the skies, You are the pit and your are the mountain, words to a stranger will never mean anything without You. You are indeed the thorn that twists and I wait without you, with or without you. I can’t live without words, without a prayer in my heart – in the street called Love Street you’ve just got to Kiss the Sky.
PS – Should have really named it Kapit-Unan Avenue [almost meaning a pillow hugging avenue] for the dyslexic stranger, don’t you think?
Dream the Dreamer