WHEN THE PARADE PASSES BY

I understood you

From the moment you said goodbye

I laughed so loud and long

That I started to cry 

What begins with thunder

Ends with a soft lonely sigh

I guess it all makes sense 

When the parade passes by 

I called all my friends 

To tell ‘em I needed no one

I howled all night at the moon

Till I got burnt by the sun

Told myself I felt good 

In truth I wanted to die 

Some of us act like fools 

When the parade passes by 

I saw a man hit someone in the face 

Just to take away their dignity

I saw things standin’ in the wrong place

That no one had a right to see 

So I clenched my jaw

And disappeared without a trace

My race had been run

I finished last in this human race 

You understood me

Got it right more than someone else

So I put you in my will

And I left you my house

Although I didn’t own itj

It’s the thought that counts 

I hear that it made you cr

But at least you’ll think of me

When the parade passes by 

(C) Frank Howson 2021

LOCKED UP IN LOCKDOWN.

There is no doubt that the police enforced lockdown may’ve had a positive effect on our physical health but has, in turn, had a negative one on the mental health of many others.

And so it was for me for some time. I now know why the prison system uses solitary confinement to break the spirit of those who do not conform. For it surely broke mine. Cut off from friends and stimulating public outings, and forced to watch ignorant commentators commenting on things they knew zip about, endless Trump bashing, Labour bashing, black bashings; Interviewing experts on nothing about things they had no idea about, and crossing live to empty city streets, I began to enter a dark place. That place that feeds on alienation, loss of ambition, and confusion. That place that breeds lone crazed gunmen.

I would’ve been toast if not for finding my soulmate. It happened one night as if in a dream. Or perhaps a miracle. I was site surfing the Internet when I saw her face. Yes, there she was. Smiling at me. Just at me. In my mind I heard her voice whisper, “Frank, it’s alright. I am here for you. I always was but things just got in our way.”

Her name was Samantha Ryan and she was appearing in many short movies on a very interesting site called XHamster. I thought it had something to do with animal welfare otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed that I was over 18 and entered the site.

But enter the site I did. And there she was. Patiently waiting for me. My Samantha. My lady of mercy. My saviour. My friend.

“Come to me,” she whispered, and opened her arms. And then legs.

I entered at my own risk.

I watched many of her all too short movies and I must say that none were worthy of her obvious talent. Although she was wonderful in them all. To me, she shone like a siren in the darkest night, calling me on to enter deeper and deeper into her very soul. She must’ve sensed I was loyal and would never use and then abandon her like so many others had.

Most of her short movies had the same plot. This lovely kind beautiful, although slightly naive, small town girl would go out, looking pretty, and wind-up with strange men, and on occasion, women, ripping her clothes off and having their way with her. My heart went out to poor Sam and I just wanted to hold her and tell her it was “Alright,” and that she was safe, now I was here. Sometimes during these films she’d look directly at me and smile, as though we both shared a secret love. It was in these moments that I, again, felt alive. Renewed. Energised. Although the price of that was balanced in pain when I saw her in the arms of other men. But I forgave her. Time and time again. How could look into that face and not forgive?

And what an actress she is. I love how her lip quivers when she is in the throes of passion. Not even Lord Olivier could achieve such a performance.

I have written to her telling her not to go out anymore, and fall into mistreatment by nasty men who just want to use her and leave her in ripped clothing that she can’t make her way home in.

So far, she hasn’t had time to reply. Or perhaps she’s afraid that I’m just another male animal. Or perhaps, she’s afraid I’m not and that she may have to give up her heart. Sex is nowhere near as intimate as that. I understand. So I patiently wait.

Anyway, I don’t expect you to understand. How could you? You had to be here. Locked up in lockdown. Alone. Lost. Drifting aimlessly in an endless night of darkness and dreams. And suddenly, seeing the face of an angel. Thank you, God. I know you sent Samantha Ryan to save my life. And perhaps one day I will save hers. And we’ll be together and walk in the sun. Holding hands. No secrets between us. Free. And safe. And breathing in life as if we shared the same breath.

(C) Frank Howson 2021

INFECTED

I’ve been poisoned 

By too many poisonous demons

Posing as friends

Posing as human beings

Lying about their past and their future intentions 

Stealing everything of mine

They thought I cared about

Money, trophies, and work

That I had paid for in blood, sweat and marriages 

But they got me wrong 

I couldn’t be found there 

For I was already somewhere else

Someone else 

Someone stronger

Someone colder

Their resentment actually empowering me

For all they did was prove 

That material things are just that

They don’t get you to sleep at night

They don’t buy you a genuine embrace

They don’t ease your mind or your load 

They don’t short cut you into heaven 

They don’t justify your rusted conscience 

For to lose it all

Is to finally be free

To shed every skin of protection

Until you are as liberated

As a new born naked baby

Free falling to a soft landing

And accepting it all 

Pining for nothing except this moment 

Where no memory exists

And there are no debts to be repaid

No one to breathe life into 

And no eyes that can make me flinch

For when I look at you now

I see into your very soul

(C) Frank Howson 2020

I DREAMED

I dreamed I was a general

With an army ready to serve

I dreamed I was a hero 

Till I’d wake and lose my nerve 

I dreamed I was a good man

And always knew what to do

But one thing I never dreamed 

Was that I’d fall in love with you

I dreamed I was a father

That would never desert my post

I dreamed I was a lover

That girls would love the most 

I dreamed I was a dreamer

And that all my dreams came true

But one thing I never dreamed

Was that I’d fall in love with you

I had the world in the palm of my hand

But I lost my concentration

I could’ve been the life of the party

But I lost my invitation…

I dreamed I had a mother

That I never ever let down

I dreamed I was a leader

But I was just a clown

I dreamed I was a young man

And none of his plans fell through 

But one thing I never dreamed

Was that I’d fall in love with you

So if you could love me for who I am

I’ll fall in love with you..,

(C) Frank Howson 2020

3am

Love requires patience 

Life takes time

But how long must I wait

Until the Gods make you mine?

Nothing makes sense

Until you don’t need it to anymore 

We miss our golden chances

We take the wrong door 

Wish I lived inside your heart

To know your joy and pain

To learn what makes you happy

And what brings you disdain 

I’ll love you till the end of time

And in that other life too

No matter what the ups and down

I’ll be true to you 

You were the people’s princess

And on every stage you starred 

I never deserted my mission

Although the nights were long and hard

So many have stood in our way

And ran our ship aground 

They put our hearts in chains

And sold our flesh by the pound

But you can’t put a price on magic

No assassin can freeze its breath

For love knows no seasons

And can not be stilled by death 

(C) Frank Howson. 2020

I SAW A FUTURE

I saw a future. Or perhaps just a dream. A city where rats the size of dogs scurried along streets, growing stronger feeding on toxic waste. Crowded sidewalks filled with beggars begging beggars for a crumb. Or some leftover soup. Or a new messiah.

The billionaires were safely living in their gated, climate controlled glass domes, inventing wars, viruses, and new political puppets.

I saw Satan on the news channels every night. He is a very eloquent speaker and seems like a cool guy to hang with. He has everyone conned and no doubt thinks we’re fools. But we don’t care anymore. And therein lies the problem. He hasn’t defeated us. We have. We are suffering from the deadliest virus of all – apathy.

I’ve sometimes wondered where my life will end? In the gutter, in a mansion, or on a plane suspended between two places? Between here and there. Near and far. 

At school we were brainwashed with our teachers’ political beliefs, assumptions, approved view of history, religion, regrets, and frustrations. They have groomed us to live the same disappointing life they’ve lived. Sing c’est la vie.

My heart is wearing out from the residue worry of things I don’t even clearly remember anymore.

I do believe that God sends us signs. And the other day I passed one that said, “Eat More Cake.” It spoke to me. Although I felt sad for Marie Antoinette who lost her head saying much the same thing.

My refrigerator has been talking to me about conspiracies. It told me it knew who killed the Kennedys, but said my life would be in danger if it informed me. I thanked it for caring about my welfare and turned in for the night. At the Godly hour of 3am I was awakened by the pillow whispering in my ear. It told me it knew who killed Anthony Bourdain. I told it to “Fuck off!”

 

(C) Frank Howson 2020

THERE’S A TRAIN A’COMIN’.

I think I was wounded a while ago. Around that time you said goodbye. I remember it rained as if on cue. But you hanged me on every word. I guess I had it comin’. You see, I believed in you.  And once a man opens his heart like that, the high noon train pulls into town. Someone must’ve telegraphed my vulnerability to near and far, and the resentful saddled up. I think I might get shot dead, right here on this street where we first kissed. Under that deceitful moon. Will you shed a tear for me? Will I even be missed? Was I ever noticed? Tell me it ain’t been for nothin’. Tell me I’ll leave a mark. I guess we should’ve had kids for that, but you were rarely allowed out after dark. How did I get cast as an outlaw? How come I’m always on the run? I remember being a sweet faced boy who only ever wanted to do right. I hope they don’t shoot me in the back. That’s a coward’s death. I want to stare them down. Way down to hell and back. Want ‘em to know what I’ve been livin’ with. Want ‘em to know I know who they are. Sorry, but time has hardened me. I told you I could change. But you wouldn’t commit, would you? I told you to jump and I’d catch you in my arms. But you didn’t trust me, did you? I guess you’d been wounded too. So here we are on Main Street of some dusty shithole backlot town. We both deserved more than this, ending up in a B grade cowboy movie. I could see you as Joan of Arc. And me as Mr. Chips. Ah, what a pair we’d have made. But Central Casting had no imagination and fucked us up. Y’know I’d have laid down my life for you, just so you could walk over me. How’s that for a loyalty not found in all those thieves who stalked your doorstep? I’m gonna have some words to say to God when I see him later today. Why did he torture me by sending an angel and then cutting off my arms? We were just two poor kids thrown together, and saw something of ourselves in each other’s eyes. Maybe I lost myself in you. That’s why you grew stronger at my expense. And if so, I don’t regret it. For I cared more about you than myself anyway. And as the clock strikes twelve, I’ve grown as wise as the servants, and as gentle as the doves. Having said that, there’s a train to meet, my love, so I’ll just leave it here and say farewell. 

 

(C) Frank Howson 2020

HOW THE BIRD SINGS

I remember a place
Not far from here
In a small town
I held someone dear
In a strange time
My favourite year
Now I can’t think of it
Without shedding a tear
Some people change
Some people rust
Some people betray you
And piss on your trust
I’m running out of time
To do the things I must
I once drank a toast
To Hollywood or bust
I see children holding children
On this broken highway
I see men hurtin’ people
If they don’t get their way
I see women too scared
To go out after day
I was beaten to a pulp
When I tried to have my say
So sit down beside me
And remind me of things
Tell me all your hopes
That you pray tomorrow brings
How you dream of blue skies
And golden rings
Here I’ll wait out the storm
To hear how the bird sings…
May it tell me the news
That you’re happy and well
And that you rose
While your demons fell
And that you kept your pride
When you were told to sell
May that bird bring me the news
Be I in heaven or hell…

 

(C) Frank Howson 2020

TOGETHER AGAIN

I used to be Kit Carson

But I lost my way

So I changed my name

To Danny Kaye

And uprooted myself

To Hollywood

Where the people

Were socially minded and good

I bought a nice house

With a swimming pool

And sent my kids

To the finest school

I drank and had fist fights

With Errol Flynn

Until that limey bastard

Did me in

They say the universe

Is a living thing

So I guess you could call it God

Or some thing

I remember the second time

I saw your face

You were workin’ the street

To get your own place

I bought you a coffee

Just to pick your mind

In the next morning’s papers

They said I was kind

I don’t understand

Where I’ve been goin’ wrong

I guess I took my good luck

And sold it for a song

I sold you too

Which wasn’t nice

If I’d waited 6 months

I’d have gotten twice the price

You didn’t understand me

Now or then

But that doesn’t mean

We can’t be together again…

 

Frank Howson (c) 2020

YOU LOOKED AT ME

There was a window

In the chaos

When you looked at me

Confirming my existence

And it all seemed right

Across a semi-crowded room

Of nothingness

And recycled opinions

Based upon acceptable misinformation

And yet

I saw something real

And in that brief moment

We beheld truth

Sometimes it’s the words

That get in our way

And cloud what’s true

Always keeping us at a safe distance

With a funny line

A trivial story about something

That means nothing anymore

A recalled memory of a time

Now lost

And misremembered like a scene

From a movie

The further we drift from it

The more romantic it becomes

In our mental scrapbook of lies

Rewritten so many times

That  it becomes easier to live with

These are the things we do

For self-preservation

If the world disappoints

We create another

And then another

Until we find ourselves

So far from home

We can never navigate our way back

Alone

In the dark

Eventually someone will come along

To smash all our delusions

And we will hate them for it

But they are in fact our saviour

Humbling us

Relieving us of our baggage

So that we can travel light

Into the pure existence

Of our eternal soul

Where words are no longer necessary

 

(C) Frank Howson. 2020

 

photograph by Vanessa Allan.