THE MEANING OF LIFE

He came with love in his heart for every living thing. His innocence had been untouched and his light force shone so bright that crowds gathered to see him but, more importantly, to feel his warmth. By gazing upon him they were somehow changed. “Was this the Messiah?” they mumbled to each other in hushed tones lest they be deemed blasphemous by some. For some can find darkness in every hope, every wish, every prayer.

And when this man spoke it brought some to their knees, others to tears. It was as if the calmness in his voice could heal every hurt and fear that had weighed them down and they were now somehow lighter.

The taking away of such anguish even brought back sight to the blind. As if all they had needed was to believe in something and were being granted the ability to see the world anew. Men who had walked too many lonely dead end loveless roads and were now crippled, found that they could walk again. And after those first awkward unsure steps they inched closer and closer to him growing more confident and accepted with each one until they were in his arms, and the safety and strength  of unconditional love made them sob for the joy of each precious moment. Time that they had, until now, misinterpreted and cursed for their burdens, and wasted, was now rediscovered and rejoiced over. All things were possible again.

In his face they saw no judgement, no impatience, no pity, only love. And his love became contagious among the people and they sang his praises.

He had not come to destroy the Romans, or hand out weapons, or preach hate. He was here to give meaning to our lives. What was the meaning of life? Love. For love opens the door to joy. And its light extinguishes all shadows.

But there were those, the shadow people, who were angered by us learning the meaning of existence and saw that this teaching could undermine their power over us. For they ruled by fear and threats, both of which were rendered insignificant when the masses walked proudly in the sun again unchained from their own mental limitations.

So they arrested this man, this dangerous man, beat him, whipped him, ridiculed him and his suffering, and sentenced him to an agonising death for the crime of telling us to love and forgive each other.

And in his final conscious moments he forgave those who had plotted his death, and the ignorant who had killed him. To this day it remains the greatest triumph of the human spirit.

Perhaps he was drawing evil into the light so that the world could recognise its face?

 
(C) Frank Howson 2019

Painting by Frank Howson (c) 2019

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THE ACTRESS RESIDES

She could’ve been a star but she sold too short. She gave easy access to the bottom feeders and the psycho time wasters. People whom she thought had a name. Trouble is, their names only opened doors for themselves. Philanthropic enterprises were not on their radar. Only the unveiling of what everyone else had already seen and widely circulated reports about. She grew to get off on the feeling of being humiliated in such a way, and so, it continued all the way down.

Soon she was the name on everyone’s lips and didn’t care that a snigger followed it and then a derogatory remark. After all, she was famous, wasn’t she? Well in some circles it was true.

She began expanding herself into diminishing returns and thinking she was making ground. Love, or what she could make of it, became opportunistic and as reasonably priced as the discounted dress she could manipulate some romantic fool to purchase for her. It was a good life as long as you didn’t look up and see that you were actually going backwards.

She could fake sympathy but not loyalty. She was continually shocked that people thought she’d betrayed them, but the truth is it never crossed her mind. She also had difficulty playing characters as she was already playing herself, and it was difficult wearing two masks at the same time.

She thought Empathy was a boring village somewhere in France. A place she had no interest in visiting. Why? What was in it for her?

Each day she checked her face for any signs of age, that dark angel that waited in the wings to signal her demise and herald the harvest season for the new crop of pretty young things.

She feared that her destiny was to play the cynical boozy floozies a la Gloria Grahame. She began weeping at sunsets.

Life was cruel when you thought about it so she ceased thinking about anything other than herself. In her mind she was already a legend and had convinced herself the whole world was waiting to see her next move. In reality they had no idea who she was.

To further take her mind off things she’d fall in love with crude men who played supporting roles and would abuse her. But she always kept a longtime, long suffering romantic male friend to run back to and hide the shame in his arms that she’d been exposed to the spotlight of her circle.

As the years of the same rolled by and her ability to be noticed when she entered a room diminished she became more and more erratic and her tantrums grew larger and more devoid of any valid logic, causing bemused onlookers to suggest, in whispered tones, that she needed to be in an institution for the insane and creatively gifted.

But instead she chose to be stripped naked by big rough men in the back seats of second hand cars. They would calm her by whispering beautiful lies in her ear that she was safe and still beautiful. Each one of them murdering her a little more.

To those who truly cared about her, or more accurately, the person they thought she could be based on the evidence of zip, it became too painful to watch her downfall.

So, they looked away.

The story went on but this is where it ends.

 

 

(C) Frank Howson 2019

I HURT YOU TOO

I’m so sorry
For who I was
There were reasons
Not just because
It’s convenient
To blame my youth
It takes a lifetime
To accept the truth

I was drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a broken child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

We can’t go back
And mend the breaks
We forget the good times
But not mistakes
It’s the price I pay
For losing you
The ties the bind us
Any fool can undo

I was drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a lost child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

There was a time
When I was almost home
But then I opened my mouth
To find I’m all alone
I feel I’m in a prison
For my father’s sins
A place you can’t get out
Once you’re in

I am drowning
Myself inside
That secret place
We choose to hide
And like a broken child
I threw my hurt at you
You hurt me once
I hurt you two
Yes, I hurt you too

 

(c) Frank Howson 2019

THE DANGERS OF KINDNESS

I never really thought much about the future. In fact, i wasn’t really ambitious, which may come as a shock to most people who don’t know me. I was always about just getting through today. I think perhaps having been raised in showbiz from an early age I’ve seen ambition break people and destroy marriages, friendships and reputations. I’ve also seen it turn good people into the kind of person they started out loathing.

Dreams are okay. They get most of us through the night. I know I have them, but in my life there has been only a handful I remember. One memorable one was so funny that I awakened myself laughing hysterically only to find that in the clear light of day and consciousness it wasn’t funny at all! Not even remotely. So, how fucked up is our subconscious? Perhaps it’s that weird surreal night world that David Lynch captures so well. Peeking over the wall into the black abyss of madness. But from God’s point of view it may not be mad at all. Maybe that other dimension is the reality of the afterlife and our daily foibles and chores in the civilised world, of a structured life, is the true madness? I’m beginning to think so. If so, then it makes perfect sense that the zombies and vampires and other monsters of our imagination only come out at night. Night falls, indeed.

In our civilised man made conscious world there are indeed zombies and vampires. I know this for fact as I have worked for some of them. But, during the daylight hours in our conscious world, they are heavily disguised. The zombies pass themselves off as normal people and act out basic emotions by rote. They appear, for all intent and purposes, to be functioning adult human beings. But there is nobody home. Scratch the surface and all you get is another surface. Don’t believe me? Well, test it out by hitting any suspect with a question, or idea, or action, out of the box. They will, before your eyes, recoil into what they are – the walking dead. Rigid. Non-functioning. Pale. They may even look like their brains hurt. And after a given amount of time will resume their rote conversation and actions as though you haven’t spoken and the lapsed time has been rewound and erased. Vampires are another kettle of fish. They don’t want your blood, that is a metaphor for sucking your life force out of you. Their goal is higher than blood. Much higher. They are after your spirit. Hence my term “spiritual vampires.” Like the zombies they are drawn to the living. Show any signs of being alive, kind, compassionate, generous, a good listener, and you are a target.

 

(c) Frank Howson 2019

LOVE WAS HERE

TAKE THIS MAN
WHO ONCE STOOD PROUD
AND TALL
HIS EYES HAVE SEEN
ALL HIS KINGDOMS FALL
WHILE THE BLACKBIRDS PECK
AT HIS HOPES AND FEARS
HE CASTS HIS MIND BACK
TO WHEN LOVE WAS HERE

SEE THAT WOMAN?
SHE ONCE CARED FOR 
THIS MAN
BACK LONG AGO
WHEN SHE HAD A PLAN
BUT PLANS LIKE DREAMS
ALWAYS DISAPPEAR
DOES SHE STILL REMEMBER
WHEN LOVE WAS HERE?

NOW WE TURN OUR COLLARS
TO THE WINTER CHILL
NOTHING IN OUR HANDS
EXCEPT MORE TIME TO KILL
I RETURN AGAIN
TO OUR FAVOURITE PIER
AND TO ANOTHER TIME
WHEN LOVE WAS HERE

WATCH THE MOON
IT CAN BETRAY YOUR TRUST
BEFRIEND THE STARS
ONLY IF YOU MUST
THEY WILL STEAL YOUR HEART
IN THE FALL OF A TEAR
YOUR ONLY MEMENTO 
OF WHEN LOVE WAS HERE


(c) Frank Howson 2018



 

BEWARE THE MAN

Beware the man who says he’s highly principled but bad mouths you behind your back.

Beware the man who is in awe of you, then wants to be you, then realises he can’t be, then resents you.

Beware the man who tells you how much his wife is worth and what he’ll get when he divorces her.

Beware the man who turns everything into a competition to compensate for his dick size.

Beware the man who tells you he’s best at everything. They are the ones who make the most mistakes.

Beware the man who is a snob and looks down his nose at everyone yet tells you he’s a Democrat. And a highly principled one at that.

Beware the man who counts your mistakes but never his own.

Beware the man who takes a commission on something he contributed nothing to. Although he’ll tell you he’s highly principled.

Beware the man who’s so dumb he doesn’t realise you are awake to him.

Beware the man whose ego is so huge he can’t see anyone else’s point of view.

Beware the man who shares the same Star Sign as Hitler but tells you the stars have moved.

Beware the man who suffers from deep depression because he knows what he is.

Beware the man who denies the existence of God because he fears being judged.

Beware the man who is scared of himself.

Beware the man whose ambition far outweighs his ability.

Beware the man who is only nice to those he thinks may be useful.

Beware the man who was born to lose. He wants you as a friend.
(C) Frank Howson 2018

(c) photograph by Frank Howson 2018

 

 

THE WORLD ENDS ON TUESDAY

I got the good news, baby
All our troubles are gone
The world ends on Tuesday
God said “Hey Frankie
The world’s in a mess
But it all ends Tuesday
I gave you the gift of love
That you seldom used
I gave you countries and borders
You chose to abuse
I sent you many angels
But you killed every one
You couldn’t get the message
So I sent you my son
I gave you seven seas
You polluted them all
And every time a tree grew
You made it fall
You think you’re me
And you’re oh so smart
But come Tuesday night I’m gonna break your heart”

(C) Frank Howson 2018