Hello! Exciting times. I’m close to completing my first collection of poetry forward slash EP forward slash mixtape forward slash magazine. It’s called BRIDGES and it will here soon. Expect songs and poetry in the vein of my recent writings and (perhaps) a few surprises.
In the meantime, here’s another little something I’ve come up with, inspired by the opening stanza of Little Gidding, by TS Eliot. An ambitious and impossibly successful poem that philosophises on the nature of time, eternity and man’s quest for enlightenment in the face of ever-present death. Recommended. My song is entitled ‘Midwinter Spring’. Also recommended.
Click below to listen, words beneath that:
Enjoy. (And spread the word. BRIDGES)
I’ve been young for half a lifetime,
And now I’ve re-arrived
At a state of infancy.
It’s really no surprise.
This is what it brings to me:
A minor shock, nothing major, ‘cause I know I’m not
Older than I ever was, but I will never be
Younger than I am right now, ‘cause Now’s incredibly
I’m greeting the Never Me with the Ever Me
They shake hands and celebrate.
Never late to make plans but hesitate
Over the future;
Imaginary and elusive.
We’re under pressure from the future ‘cause it never waits.
And the past?
Stays in place and never shakes,
Solidifies in memory –
(You cannot hide from what has been)
Meditate on the future past that never waits,
Try to catch the present if you can but you’ll be ever late…
The ever-present (also known as an eternity)
Interrogates mortality of you and me eternally.
We’re living in between the past and future constantly,
Impossibly eternal but moribund simultaneously.
And it’s a shame that we’re so hung up on the way that we
Used to be,
Want to be
Used to want to be,
That’s about as important as…
You to me?
I don’t know.
I mean, usually
We’re satisfied completely with the things that we can touch and see
But honestly, the weight of history is just too much for me.
But at least it happened,
So it has to be
Tangible to some degree and rooted in reality.
Unlike the future or the present
(Which is transitory)
So never worry much about what all your plans could be.
‘cause your plans are for non-existent Nows
And you can’t plan for now because Now is always happening…
A post-mortem of all things I’ve ever thought and
Raw thoughts fall from my pen until my pages caught them.
Courting ideas like young men and neighbours’ daughters,
Dumb pen starts speaking, releasing thoughts in zany order.
I’m still looking for purchase – I might place an order,
Waiting patiently for delivery to grace my door and
Ring the bell. Sound the death knell of my creative water
Shortage. No doubt that my thoughts are finally made to order.
Drought season comes and goes like vague acquaintances
And when I’m waiting for the rain it feels like I’m in stasis it’s
A living death, creative plague, aborted phrases made of shit,
I look at them like “Is this it?
I thought my thoughts were laced with wit?”
But wit is insufficient to my purposes.
I’ve raised the bar beyond the level of the things you’ve heard and it’s
A hurdle, it’s a challenge, a verbal hurl of words and it’s…
…dot, dot, dot…
An ellipsis fits.
Because it’s ongoing.
I’m not slowing.
Moment after moment, try to hold it but it’s not holding.
Trying to hold it’s like trying to hold infinity.
Midwinter Spring is the season that we’re living in.
BRIDGES: Coming soon.
More songs (click on title)