WHAT AM I BID?

He's in that room
Second door to the right
Asleep on the couch
Exhausted from trying to make sense of it all
And from staying out of anyone's way
He can't play the person he was anymore
The clothes don't fit
The lines don't ring true
And the lighting isn't right
All of his happy endings
Added up to one massive disaster
He stood up once
To be shot down
But that bravest hour
His finest
Misreported by many
Cost him more than money
And years
And the loves of a life
Although the fire was extinguished
Some embers still burn
When it's that three o'clock hour
And the world is silent and God whispers "Don't worry"
To thwart the attack of the shadow people
For it takes a lifetime
To realise
That the more you're taught
The less you think you know
It's all part of the process
Of shedding skins
In order to set the spirit free
From the chains of this world
For you have to be beaten
And mocked
And fall
Time and time again
On your road to humility
That will eventually carry you
Above these prison walls
The world has been taken over by idiots
And statisticians
Gossips shows and celebrity chefs
And is a place where a couch
In a tiny room
Has become someone's refuge
As he puts on his coat
And goes walking with his ghosts
Into a familiar surrounding
That is at last bearable
As he wanders
With the knowledge that
With wisdom comes predictability
And explains God's boredom
With us
Can you imagine?
Few can
Take this man
Oh, take him, Lord
He who lived with trauma
And the insanity of hope
And walked streets that turned back into themselves
Like people do
And was insulted, defamed and betrayed
By those he'd shown the most kindness to
How much am I bid for his heart?
It's weary from caring
But it is still in working order
What do I hear for his love
That has the capacity to extend to so many
For so little in return?
What am I offered for his feet
That have walked the world many times
And yet were still able to stand while others fell?
What will you give for his voice
That was silenced for a time by experts
Who feared his truth?
Going once
Going twice
Sold



Words (c) Frank Howson 2019

photograph by Bruce Woodley. 




 

 

 

A JOYFUL WOMAN

We tried to live a simple life in a complex world. Surrounded by all the dangers, temptations, frustrations and good intentions gone south. We had a simple love, in that sweet naive time before the reptilians took over and the war designed to have no end began. 

All I knew was that I loved you, and you loved me. Nothing much else mattered. And if the world we knew came to an end, I’d love you in the next too. 

Your beautiful face and inner joy were the only drugs I needed to keep going.  You made me smile. You made me dance. You made me hope for more when I’d given up hoping. 

Each day we’d plow the fields, sowing for the harvest that would keep us full during the winter months. 

Life was good and the people we knew were fun. Until they weren’t anymore. But they weren’t as lucky as us and life made them bitter. 

Sometimes I’d whisper your name in a reverential prayer when my road narrowed and  the nights became too dark to see ahead. 

 Some people became envious of our joy and sought to steal it, foolishly thinking they could replicate the recipe, but they burnt the base. 

They burnt us too. 

These days I don’t punish myself by thinking of love, and have accepted my life of solitude. Sometimes we have to sacrifice joy to obtain wisdom. Sometimes I long to be a happy fool again. For there is a penalty in knowing too much. 

My wisdom has told me that angels must leave. They weren’t meant to be chained to this mortal earth, or to us flawed humans. And so, it is as it should be. Fly on, my darling, fly on. It was all my fault, dreaming that I could keep you. 

But perhaps our time will come. Again. And I’ll not awaken my wisdom, and instead, pretend I don’t know the ending. 

And so on. And so on. 

 

(C) Frank Howson 2019

 

 

LONESOME ENDS WITH ME

We sleep in the dark
And wake to a stark
New day
We never learn
We wait our turn
Then forget what to say
When someone nags
We pack our bags
And flee
We push and shove
And try to love
But lonesome ends with me

Wasn’t I there for you
Aren’t I a friend too?
You sneak thoughts into my head
While I rest in bed
I used to feel alive
But now I feel
As good as dead
But
With that having been said…

We give what it takes
And make our mistakes
And cry
We walk alone
And turn to stone
I love you but you lie
I walk the beach
And sometimes teach
For free
That one and one
Can come undone
And lonesome ends with me

(C) Frank Howson 2019

ME WALKING AWAY

My key doesn’t fit any door anymore
No one excitedly awaits my approaching footsteps
No one offers me anything to kiss
But a cheek
My watch doesn’t tell time
It’s taken to telling fortunes
The lifeline on my palm keeps extending
I may outlive you all
Wouldn’t that be cruel?
The only laughs I get
Are from reading Emil Cioran
I know only too well what it’s like to be misunderstood
I see nothing in anyone’s eyes anymore
But suffering
It’s painful to be able to look at people
And foretell their destiny
So I don’t go out any longer
You could’ve saved me
But you seemed fully booked
With married men
And those going nowhere
Good luck with that
Dogs see more in me
Than you do
But you seem hellbent
On waiting for a bus that will never come
And in the waiting
Your life goes by
Until you die
I eat but don’t want
I love but don’t need
I seek but don’t find
I walk but don’t move
I sleep but don’t dream
I listen but don’t hear
I look but don’t see
I give my hand to those in need
Because I never learn
I befriend those who betray me
I rage wars without raising my sword
I remember those who forget me
I stand guilty of all the above
Only because you offered me no chair
What would it have cost you
To have given me some affection?
But I guess your plans were overcrowded
With images of yourself
From those heydays when you were young
And the world was at your feet
But you wouldn’t listen
You never listen
Well, not really
Our only difference is
I know when it’s over
“Too late, too late,” he cried
I have a stubborn streak
That has sprung a leak
I am my father’s son now
I will never ask again
Here I go
This is me walking away

(C) Frank Howson 2019

THIS GREY PLACE

I died a week ago
About the time you left me
But no one has seemed to notice
I’ve been haunting some familiar bars
Speaking to strangers without getting an answer
I guess they’re dead too
There’s a lot of this going around
I think it’s called Limbo
The waiting room
Before we can move on
I’ve heard we are stuck here
Until we can make sense of it all
The room of the lost
I guess heaven is reserved for the winners
So that won’t be such a change
From what I’m used to
I don’t know what I did
Or didn’t do
To lose you
I hope I work it out soon
Because I can’t move on
You see?
Without some closure
Me, the one who vowed to love you
Forever
May be here a very long time
In this place where nothing grows
But remorse
This grey place
I kept my vow to you
Didn’t I?
And now there’s all hell to pay
What room are you in?

(C) Frank Howson

Photograph by Frank Howson.

WHO SAW HIM LAST?

These were the shoes he wore. Notice the soles are thin. He’d walked many miles in these trying to get ahead.

This was his favourite jacket. He felt wealthy when he wore it. Even though it had holes in the pockets.

This is the shirt he called his lucky one. He always wore it to important meetings and although nothing ever came of them he felt this shirt would bring him luck. Someday.

These were his favourite pants – he’d been married in them. Twice.

This was the hat he wore everyday. It shielded his head from the rain and the wind and the sun. And if he pulled the brim down, from everyone.

This is the map he lost just before he lost his way.

These are the tears he cried when he had nowhere to go.

This is the heart you broke and you didn’t even know.

These are your letters he kept when he believed in you.

This is the photo of his mother who thought he was precious.

Where are the friends he helped instead of helping himself?

This is his favourite song that he played every night.

This is the movie he said changed his life.

These are the books he loved now all packed away.

Who saw him last?

(C) Frank Howson 2019

THE BRIGHTEST LIGHT

Where do you find someone
Who’ll give you their heart?
And won’t take it back
Just to tear you apart
Someone who is
Everything she seems
A dream you wake to
When you wake from dreams
I’ve been searching so long
And learned to live alone
You kinda park your life
In a holding zone
But I believe one day
If you keep on giving
You’ll stumble in the dark
And find your reason for living
For it’s a contradiction
That in the darkest night
We see in the faraway distance
The brightest light

(G) Frank Howson