For your own heart,
Was fragile.
Too fragile from the start.
You needed a replacement,
So you got a brand new heart.
One just like you,
Both young and strong,
Full of music, joy, and art.
But then this strong,
Replacement part.
It became weak,
And fell apart.
And now there’s no,
Replacement,
For your replacement heart.
Dedicated to my friend and former colleague Jonas Sjödin, who passed away last night from a cardiac arrest. He was 33 years old.
Food in bowl. Now.
By Cinnamon the Cat
Oh, this emptiness!
This emptiness,
Has got me feeling,
Quite distressed!
There’s nothing there!
And I despair.
But you don’t even,
Seem to care!
Oh, this empty hole!
Taken its toll,
Put some more food,
In my bowl!
(On a song writing course we were given 15 minutes to write stream of consciousness. This is my result.)
Heart beats, hands shake,
Feeling like a big fake,
In my head it’s butterflies with wings,
But I can barely find the strings,
On my guitar, which I know well,
But just right now you couldn’t tell,
That when I’m calm and home alone,
Not one missed note,
Not one missed tone,
But that’s the nature of the beast,
That must be tamed,
And then released,
The beast that ruffles every feather,
So sometimes I am not sure whether,
I can do this properly,
I need to train the beast to see,
That this is where I’m supposed to be,
That with the presence of a quiver,
Slight tremolo and nervous shiver,
This is where my light’s revealed,
Where broken parts of me get healed,
Despite the twitching ruffled feather,
This is where it comes together,
That behind the nervousness there’s more,
A feeling anchored to my core,
That there within my chambered heart,
Music is the one true part,
The sacred chalice, golden key,
That shapes and shines the inner me,
And though I really can’t say why,
And know that I might never fly,
My hope will never yield its place,
So keep the sky above me open,
Just in case.
Used to be a vegetarian,
That’s what I was before,
Although the things I ate were less,
I managed to eat more,
Now decades on I’ve changed,
Reverted to an omnivore,
I’m trying to learn to eat less,
Though the food choices are more,
More of less, or less of more,
The thing that strikes me now,
It matters somewhat what you eat,
But matters much more how!
Old fish, new fish,
Sometimes blue fish,
This one is passive-agress-fish,
Makes you think it wants to stay,
But nips your heels anyway,
No, no!
This will never do fish!
No need to even think this through fish.
I don’t want that sort of play fish,
So I’m sending you awayish,
Sorry if it makes you bluish,
But out with old fish,
In with new fish.
(another rediscovered little gem from years gone by….)
Sometimes we is us, and us is we,
Unless we really have to pee,
Then us is us, and we is wee,
Until we go behind a tree,
Us can be two, and sometime’s three,
Or maybe more, haha, teehee,
Sometimes so many we’s, it’s us,
But then we have to rent a bus.
(Found myself perusing ancient lists of things I’ve written, and often completely forgotten about, both the piece and the reason for writing it. This is one such.)
Some things suck,
passing the buck,
runs of bad luck,
splashed by a truck,
slime and guck,
people that don’t give a fuck,
those things are Yuck.
But then there’s some,
your dear old mum,
your favourite chum,
the taste of plum,
a place to cum,
a rhythmic drum,
a guitar’s strum,
those things are Yum.
(If any of this leave you pissed,
well go ahead, make your own list…)
No one thought about
Me very much.
They passed me by
Without a touch.
And if they looked
They saw the sign
That I hold up.
That job is mine.
It tells you stuff
You need to know.
This path isn’t gritted
When there’s snow.
But I’m just a post.
It is my station.
I don’t have the
Important information.
But one day someone
Saw my sign above.
And decided that
What I need is love.
So they knitted
A special scarf for me.
Which fits all
Around me quite snugly.
And now it’s me
They notice most.
Not the dirty sign
But the bundled up post.
It’s ever so delirious,
Enticing and mysterious,
Not knowing who is serious,
Or which one has the nerve,
It’s a dangerous position,
Two bodies headed for collision,
Each one making a decision,
Will they go forward? Or swerve?
Regardless of belief or cause,
Be it Anti-War or Unjust Laws,
Free Enterprise or Communist,
Today’s the day to raise a fist!
And help improve our situation,
With some old school demonstration.
It likely will not help or harm,
If nothing else, just raise alarm.
So rouse the rabble! Make ’em care,
About what’s happening out there.
Random Misanthrope 