THE DREAM IS OVER

So many battles I've had to fight alone. Betrayed by those I loved
the most, they were also the ones I had been fighting for. The
weariness of this realisation makes you weak at the knees and 
yet you must continue to fight or else the duplicity of their 
motives will win the day. You become hollow inside, not by cancer, 
but by the fact that something deep and magical and life enhancing 
has closed down never again to be reignited. You feel lighter as 
you inch closer to death. All that remains on most days is a shell. 
This is when you are called upon to become an actor and give
'em what they want. A performance. A great performance because it 
is so convincing most people think you still function and have risen 
above the hurt and damage of the shadow people. But then again, your 
life, or what's left of it, hangs on the thread of your ability to 
push on through the small talk and darkness of "What if...?" without 
puking on someone's expensive shoes. So many amongst us are asleep 
at the wheel and do not understand or care about what is at stake. 
Love is a distraction. Pain is the only honest constant and it has 
become your friend. You cannot be hurt anymore, which is 
disappointing to a lot of women. You cannot be brought down any 
further, which is crushing to many men. You cannot be bought, 
because there is nothing you need. You cannot be humiliated 
anymore, which is pleasing to God. For now all layers of bullshit 
and make-believe have been ripped away. You are free now. God 
almighty, free at last! You once had a dream too. But now you 
have awakened to see the game for what it is. Nothing can scare 
you now. You are impenetrable. This makes you frightening to those 
who only operate by spreading fear amongst us. And at the dawn of 
our demise you are noticeably at peace. And powerful again.


(c) Frank Howson 2017

Painting by Frank Howson (c) 2017
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SAY GOODBYE

I remember only yesterday

Thinkin’ love would never go away

You painted all the colours of my dreams

The picture’s blurred and broken at the seams

And one by one these dreams they disappear

Till all that’s left is make believe and fear

We choose our words with a painstaking care

Then we wake to find nobody’s there

 

And so we say goodbye to unforgiving

Say goodbye to all that living

Say goodbye how could we part

Tear one more page from Life’s  flip chart

Say goodbye to all that loving

Say goodbye all roads to nothing

Say hello my brand new start

As you go say farewell to my heart

 

Oh my dear it seems like yesterday

When all my dreams were cruelly snatched away

The perfect girl for lonely me I thought

Dumped me for the life that money bought

And left behind a bitter broken shell

My bride now someone’s toy and I’m in hell

Just a place where lonely men confer

And talk about how once we were in love with her

 

And then we say goodbye to unforgiving

Say goodbye to all that living

Say goodbye why did we part

My love has stopped and won’t restart

Say goodbye to all that loving

Say goodbye all roads to nothing

Say hello go play your part

And as you go say farewell to my heart…

Too late to cry…

Say goodbye to my heart…

 

(c) Frank Howson 2017

ST. KILDA

I was born in St.Kilda
Lived most of my life here 
Travelled the world searching for what was
Probably already found
And like the prodigal son I returned
My face lined with lessons learned
To the only place that ever felt to me like home
My childhood was spent in Fawkner Street
It was for a time my whole world
Among our neighbours were ordinary battlers
Sly grog salesmen
Gamblers
and gangsters
Public enemy Number one
Norm Bradshaw nicknamed The Beast for good reason
Lived there
When he wasn't on the run
So did his in-laws The Shannons
and our next door neighbour, the Aussie equivalent of Bonnie Parker - 
Pretty Dulcie
Colourful big-hearted contradictory characters
I remember the night that several rival gangsters
Kicked in Pretty Dulcie's front door and walked down her corridor 
Spraying gun shots
One stray bullet came through our wall
and if it'd been a little further to the left
Somebody else would be standing here today
The 6 o'clock swill at the Barkly Hotel
Produced enough colourful characters and street poetry
To fill a thousand pulp fiction novels
There was no better grounding to be a writer or an actor
Than to stand on the corner of Fawkner Street and Barkly
at sunset
And watch the cavalcade of originals spew out onto the street
and wander home in what seemed like a slow motion drunkard's dance
Two steps to the left, three to the right
Mr. & Mrs. Kilpatrick owned the corner Milk Bar
And were the moral guardians of the neighbourhood
If you were having a poor week
They'd give you supplies and keep a tab
You survived on your word and good name
In those days people trusted each other
My father worked for the St. Kilda Foreshore for over 30 years
His little office was under the biggest dip in Luna Park's Scenic Railway
and he looked after all the beaches as well as the O'Donnell Gardens
The latter was where a lot of my boyhood was spent 
Playing while he worked
In my mind recreating Sherwood Forest, the Alamo and every John Wayne movie
Hiding in the bushes, climbing trees, attacking the cavalry
Developing an imagination
Robin Hood, Peter Pan, Davy Crockett and Spiderman
I fought beside them
Blood brothers every one
We used to save the world before each day was done
My mum worked across the road at Candy Corner
To me, in my memory, still the best lolly shop in the world bar none
And my dad, during the summer months
Would work a second job at night
Running the ferris wheel at the sideshows to the right of the Palais
My first public appearance was on the stage of the St. Kilda Town Hall
at the age of seven, performing "Give My Regards To Broadway"
Although to us, Broadway may as well have been the moon
Years later my father actually died in an ambulance outside the Town Hall
It was a fitting place for him to leave this world
For you see, our world was St. Kilda
It was engraved in our hearts
Everyone I have mentioned, other than me
Have gone now
They are ghosts that haunt these streets
and boulevards and beaches
You hear their faraway laughter on the wind
and see their outlines in the mist of dawn
The spiritual guardians of a place that was every bit as unique
as Times Square, or Soho, or Wanchai
Every weekend people from all over Melbourne would jump a tram
Or a train and come to St. Kilda
To see the freaks, hear the music, eat the exotic European food, 
Rub shoulders with the ten most wanted
Poke fun at the bohemians 
Sneak a guilty sidewards glance at the painted ladies
Eat the cakes of a thousand calories
And parade along the promenade with someone special
Please, for sake of all those ghosts,
Don't let the soul of St. Kilda die
Atmosphere can't be planned or created
It is a magic
Like stardust from the Gods
And once it's gone
It's gone
It can't be explained
And it can't be fabricated
It's not a trick of Houdini
There is no recipe
It can't be reduced to something mortals can understand
But at the heart of it there is a truth
People don't come to experience a strip mall
Even if it has been exquisitely designed
They come to experience Life 
That to me is St. Kilda
And our Art
Tells the world who we are
What we think
And where we come from
And like Davy Crockett at the Alamo
I'll defend that till the end

(c) 2017

(Speech delivered at the opening of the St. Kilda Arts Crawl 
September 21, 2017.)




SPIRITUAL VAMPIRES

So many fucked up people in the world
Monstrously negative feelings about every living person
Every word from their mouths another poison bullet
Aimed at someone, anyone
Most times they actually kill the person who was attempting 
To help them
But I guess to them we all look the same
Eventually they implode and eat themselves
But don't breathe easy
There are many who will follow
They weren't loved enough by daddy
So now they reach out frantically to everyone they meet
To give them the loving family they were denied
But when such immediate desperation hits 
They frighten off their targets
And their baby love turns to a cold-hearted hate 
Within a blink of an eye
They hit out at the world 
For not giving them what they wanted
Yet they can't tell you what that is
They want to be celebrities 
Without doing the hard work
They want to be successful writers 
Without facing the pain
They want to top the charts with songs
That touch us without ever exploring themselves
They want babies 
But marry those who don't
Almost as though this self-fulfilling prophecy
Will forever more be their excuse 
For not having to love anyone
Or give of themselves
Or try
If you are trapped by them
There is no escape
Only a small room where death awaits
The living are always under attack from the dead
The spiritual vampires
Of the new millennium
Sucking off your light force
Until you are done
And then they will mourn you
Because now you are safe to be
Whoever they choose to invent
As their next excuse


(c) Frank Howson 2017




ST. LYNN OF DESPAIR

Your mother poisoned you
So you'd never fly away
And now you're chained 
To St. Vicious of Lies
Who turns every glass of wine
Into water
I once too believed in her
But her well of advice
Is only self-serving
And projects her
Far above those she breaks
Be warned you won't stumble
You'll crash
Washed up upon her rocks
Of insanity
She worships her own image
Above all else
And speaks in tongues
Not her own
She is not clever
But dangerous
Like a snake
Like a rat
She hides her true self
Until she strikes
She steals others' opinions
And whatever words that work
And accuses those left behind
Of what she does
She resents your light
And will work overtime to extinguish it
Fearing that to linger in any light
Will expose her true self
For to gaze upon her real face
Will blind all those who do
She keeps her secrets
Locked tight in her mind
But will tell the multitudes
Yours
Holding up your vulnerabilities and missteps
To public ridicule
Bending the facts
To suit whatever occasion
Suits her best
Setting you on fire
And then silently laughing
At your helplessness
Whilst voicing concern
She steals other women's husbands
Not because she wants them
But because it elevates her
Above her imagined competitors
She is the daughter of Satan
Her father was jailed for theft
But now, released, judges everyone
And kills with his ignorance
They make a fine pair
While pretending to care
I took a walk
In the sun today
To prove that broken men
Can rise again


(c) Frank Howson 2017








THE RIGHT PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME

How did you get so pretty?

How did I get so old?

I never combed my hair

Or did what I was told

Do you believe in magic

Like I believe in you?

I wanna curse these years

That took me away from you

 

You’re the price I paid

For being born too soon

I  touched the stars

But missed the moon

I was the motherless child

Of a victim-less crime

Tell ’em…

I was in the right place

But at the wrong time

 

Why did my world stop spinning?

Why did the sky turn grey?

I never dreamed at night

All my dreams were by day

What do you see in my eyes

When I’m looking at you?

Romeo in decline?

Or a man you never knew?

 

Oh what a price I’ve paid

For living far too long

I broke my heart

To write this song

I’m like Buffalo Bill

In a five and dime

Tell ’em

I was in the right place

But at the wrong time

 

I’m the invisible man

Nobody sees me anymore

That’s me in the rain

Outside your door

I once was something

And everybody knew my name

Now I live in Regret

On the outskirts of Blame

 

Oh what a price I’ve paid

For loving you too much

I lost my mind

And now my touch

One day you’ll understand

But your words won’t rhyme

Just tell ’em…

You’re in the right place

But it’s the wrong time….

 

(c) Frank Howson 2017

 

 

 

 

SHINE YOUR LIGHT

Give me something that won't hurt
Give me someone who won't desert
Give me a reason to change my mind
Give me sight where I've been blind
Show me where I'm supposed to be
Show me the road that will set me free

I still believe in you
Even if the good book ain't all true
But I surely know
Even in the darkest night
You care enough
To shine your light

Take me someplace I ain't been
Take me to harbours I ain't seen
Take me away from myself
Tempt me not with greed and wealth
Show me where I'll be welcomed home
End all those nights that I've been alone

I still believe in you
Even if the good book ain't all true
But I surely know
Even in the darkest night
You care enough
To shine your light

I know we're not made to last
And we're just all passing through
And there's a price that must be paid
For every thoughtless thing we do
But I want you to know, before I go
That I still believe in you

Make me open in my heart
Make me grateful when old friends part
Give me the pleasure of memories
Of my joyful reveries
Even though some drift and are gone
Give me the strength to smile and go on

I still believe in you
Even if the good book ain't all true
But I surely know
Even in the darkest night
You care enough
To shine your light

 

(c) Frank Howson 2017