I am a soldier of many campaigns. I have fought wars on foreign shores and at home, against many foes, and against myself. I bear many scars invisible to the eye. Never having been decorated by my country you won't find me in the history books. I have fallen by the wayside time and time again while others soaked up the glory. Politicians have me in their blindspot and I refuse to bribe them with dinners, girls, boys, drugs or money. In short, I've been honourably Olsen'd. It's winter in my car now. Like me it refuses to start. She, the woman in the passenger seat, could've at least stayed and given me some warmth. But why change? You know, the clock is wrong and has communist tendencies. The gear stick on the other hand has been behaving like a dictator. And my hand is refusing to have sex with me. It says it's bored. Well how does it think I feel? Why does every living thing have to get bored? It's dark tonight and so cold I'm afraid to fall asleep lest I not wake again. My leg has gone to sleep but that's typical, as it's never done anything I wanted it to. This may explain something to those of you who've sometimes seen me walking along normally and then suddenly, spasmodically, gone into the splits. It's a little embarrassing but usually garners quite a bit of applause. Being an old pro I graciously accept it (I was taught to never waste applause), and take a bow so that people think it was intentional, and worthy of their response. This does place some added daily pressure upon me. But I must say, all in all, that it would be a shame to not awaken to another day of dread and boredom. I'd wonder who won the football? Or did every team lose? Just as an aside, has there ever been a war that was declared a draw? And who decides? Is there a judging panel of experts on the hill? When I was a boy my first love was Hayley Mills.I must've seen that fucking Pollyanna movie 46 times. Not because I was into the story of Pollyanna, but I was very much into Hayley. Well, as much as you could be from the stalls. As the years went by and I grew some hard earned sense I realised our love was doomed before it could even begin. She was a film star princess and I was just a boy from St.Kilda who'd never been anywhere except to the local movie house. It was a painful realisation but there you have it. Still, if she spoke to me today I'd turn into that awkward shy boy. Funny how that is, huh? I have to stop putting my heart into everything I write as I feel there's not much of it left. But should you ever miss me, I'll be right here. (c) Frank Howson 2019
Don't stop me from having some fun Fun is in such short supply these days When I was a child nothing made sense And the school system shut me out I was too busy dealing with things at home To be expected to think during classes All the lessons I needed to learn were there Within my family And I soon excelled at observation And the devastating power of words Achieving an A every year My senses heightened to love And other dangers So I befriended broken people Some were too broken and betrayed me So they could claim credit for breaking me some more But others bloomed when they received the loyalty Of a friend And I was nothing if not loyal For loyalty has been my greatest gift And my deepest flaw It has undone me many times In the light of day The most important thing we can learn Is that we know very little We can send men to explore the outer realms of space And yet so much of us is unchartered If the moon landing was faked It is probably the most revealing comment one can make about human beings God would smile at our arrogance Attempting to create on such a grand scale for ants It seems, to me, that it's not what we do that counts Anymore It's what we appear to do So, perhaps we have finally accepted The truth That we are just B grade actors On a huge soundstage created by the Almighty And each day we rise to go through the motions And play our roles as convincingly as possible For the amusement of God You see, the poor bastard is so bored Living in the great darkness he shares with Satan Where there is no time And not even the relief of commercial breaks In my opinion that would make sense Of the nothingness And we'd at last know who we are And where we are Like the Joker One has to go insane to see the insanity of the truth (c) Frank Howson 2019
I remember you Even more painful, where and when You told me when it was over That you'd find me again So you searched all the hostels Inhabiting lonely men I was killed by your mouth You were killed by my pen I told you I liked chocolates So you bought me a cigar You have a cruel talent For pushing me too far I remember walking miles While you passed me in your car The same one I'd bought you When you became my star Now the years are conspiring To drive me insane Along with some of my friends Who only deal in pain So let me spell it out To you nice and plain My dance is slowly fading And it failed to bring you rain I'll soon be gone like Jesus To never come again You nailed me to your cross And made me watch you with other men They all hurt and manhandled you And I shed tears for my precious friend But you stood with them and mocked me I should've known how it would end (c) Frank Howson 2019
Let us kneel and say our prayers That something hears our call We think too deep And we see nothing at all Rome wasn't built in a day But I bet it took an hour to fall Let us not weary in our cause Until we right the wrong A place is not a home Until you feel you belong A country isn't great Until it looks after its own To value true friendship You must walk many miles alone Let us not rush to condemn Until we know what's real Let us try a little kindness Until the broken hearts heal Let us not worship false gods Like money or power For we will see their futility In our final hour And when we face the truth May we hold our heads up high And know we did our best And that the seeds of those deeds won't die And that the judgement we're given Can't be argued or repealed For the best of us did not rest Until the broken hearts healed (c) Frank Howson 2019 Photograph by Frank Howson 2019 Mui Wo.
The Jewish are very smart. They tend to be suspicious of new people until they prove themselves.
Me, probably due to Irish blood on my mother’s side, I treat everyone as family until they prove different. The upside of this is you have a lot of wonderful people in your circle. The downside is, when one, or two, or three of them betray your trust, or work against you out of meanness, it is a devastating jolt to your heart. I end this year with a very weary heart, so weary it murmurs.
This is a result of befriending a man who had very few friends. In fact, most people went out of their way to tell me how much they disliked him. This was mainly due to his own self-destructiveness, opportunism, or snobbery, depending on his mood or his snap judgement of someone. He rarely made an effort, choosing to act aloof, or just plainly not acknowledge others at all. I remember once him coming to Hong Kong with me, and clearly annoyed by the fact that I had/and have a strong group of dear friends here. Most of them he ignored. And when asked a question by a sociable/polite person, he’d assassinate the budding conversation with a blunt “Yes” or “No” answer. Sometimes just a grunt if he thought you were beneath him. This didn’t win him any friends. So, his loneliness is some weird self-fulfilling prophecy. In fact, I remember going out to one of the islands and meeting a long-time friend for lunch and my fellow travelling companion didn’t utter one word throughout the whole lunch. Even when he was asked something. It was so embarrassing it made one’s teeth ache. So much for common courtesy.
When he was propelling people away from himself at a terrifying rate, I asked him what his problem was. At first, he blamed the humidity! Then when that didn’t wash, he went for the sympathy vote, claiming he was very shy. My in-built shit-detector went off because I’ve seen this man when he meets someone with huge wealth or a person who could be helpful to him. Or a celebrity. Bingo! Suddenly he has a personality and would attempt to talk their ears off, mainly about himself and what a genius he is and how he can do anything brilliantly, etc., etc., etc. Well, everything that is, except make an effort to converse with normal people. At one New Year’s Eve Party held at a huge mansion, the person in question was so impressed he cornered the wealthy host and talked and talked and talked about himself and how marvellous he was at everything until the normally polite host had to tell him that he had a party to run and quickly exited.
This walking contradiction gets even weirder considering this person-in-question had come from very humble roots and was staunchly left-wing, supported the Democrat, etc., etc., etc., and yet, was too much of a snob to start up, or keep going, or add to a conversation with anyone he thought was beneath him. I don’t object to anyone’s politics, but I do object to hypocrisy. People who passionately believe in a cause, and who don’t just talk the talk, but walk the walk, I have much time for. Even if I disagree with certain political agendas they support. But hypocrites, nope, count me out.
One day I realised that this person-in-question had some huge internal, psychological, social contradictions. I came to the conclusion he hated himself and was ashamed of his family background. Hence in recent years he’s become a wine and food snob. I would always undo this façade when he’d hold court criticising someone’s wine, by saying, “Y’know, I knew this guy when he used to drink warm beer.”
And it was true.
Somebody I know, a very spiritual person, explained to me that certain people, like the person-in-question, are cling-ons. They don’t actually have a life. They live through you. There’s a great scene in the brilliant movie, “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” in which Jesse looks at Ford one day and says, “You don’t want to be like me, do you? You actually want to be me.” A chilling moment. I had another weird moment when the person-in-question berated me for going to a Bob Dylan concert and not taking him! I calmly tried to reply with some logic like, “But you don’t like Bob Dylan. In fact, you’ve ridiculed him for years. And I took a female companion. One who likes Bob Dylan. You…arrr…have a wife? If you wanted to see the concert so much why didn’t you buy two tickets and take her?” I’m still waiting for an answer. Because there is none. It is mental. Dark. Bizarre, and seriously creepy. But I do tend to attract these people. Perhaps because I’m one of the few who has ever given them my time and concern.
Since distancing myself from this person-in-question, he obviously can’t own up to why I have done that. So, the oldest trick in the book, albeit very cliched to anyone with a thinking brain, is he now tells people invented stories about me and accuses me of everything he does. Yawn. Someone with as many things to be ashamed of as he possesses, should be very careful. As that Jewish prophet once said, “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.”
I came from a working-class background and my formative years were spent in, at that time, one of the toughest streets in St. Kilda. But unlike my ex-friend, I’m not ashamed of it, nor do I pretend to be something I’m not. I’m actually proud of where I came from and the experiences, both good and bad, that helped shape me into the person I am, as they were invaluable. I also have the greatest respect for battlers, people like my mum and dad who struggled on very little and yet made their kids feel that we were rich. We were rich, in so many ways. Both my parents were unique. Originals. Characters. The type of which we don’t see much of today. But they were genuine. Big-hearted. Told it like it was. And didn’t try to be anything but themselves. Perhaps that’s why they were both so well loved by everyone they met.
I miss them. I think the world misses what they possessed. At the end of the day, that’s what you’re remembered for.
© Frank Howson 2019
Photograph by Frank Howson.
If I should die tonight What would I say? I'm glad you came along And chose to stay And thank you for the love Shown to an orphan gone astray If I should die tonight That's what I'd say If I should cry tonight Don't turn away You've been my ray of sunshine Come what may You helped me through the storm Through all the nights that followed day If I should cry tonight Don't turn away You see me When others don't You're the one who tries When others won't In the temple of truth I was humbled and confessed If this be love Then I've been blessed If I should die tonight What have I learnt From all the battles fought And bridges burnt? I bore a heavy load Through all those dreams that wouldn't cease If I should die tonight God grant me peace (c) Frank Howson 2019
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.