HOME

The street was the same as I remembered it. And the birds swooped as if to herald my return. So it was true, I hadn’t dreamed it. For a moment I stood and took in the beautiful cacophony of noise that I’d never fully appreciated before in all its ugly glory. The sun came out to shine on cue and its warmth informed me that I had now entered a safety zone for lost boys.

How can you know a place so well and yet feel that you are seeing it for the first time? If this is a dream and I awaken now I will be angry all day. Maybe all days.

I continue moving on further into it until I reach the gate no one ever closes, and the narrow cement path  leading to the apartment block steps I once knew so well I could climb them in the dark, and under the influence of too much life. This time there seems to be a lesson learnt in each step and greater effort needed to conceal the weariness of the outsider.

Halfway up I enter the glow from the first storey window that conspires to shine God-like behind the statue of Buddha as if even the universe is welcoming my return.

More steps and more weary remembrances of lessons learned and I am at the front door, knocking in a drum pattern of whimsy and familiarity.

After an eternity of seconds the door is opened and I see your smiling face as I remembered it from a long ago carefree time. Bright, loving and kind. I can now die in my footsteps and not be lost to wander and wonder.

I enter and am surrounded by the comfort of the greatest books and music ever written. Each word and note a friend of mine. And I sit at the empty table. Alone no more. Everything and nothing has changed as I take my place amongst it.

You ask me how I am. But there are no words to convey the miracle of ordained destiny.

For in that sheltered moment, I am home.

 

(C) Frank Howson 2017

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THE NIGHT BOBBY WENT ELECTRIC

 

There were rumours in the air
And the crowd was tense
There were things in the world
That didn’t make sense
But here he was
With that glassy eyed stare
Our skinny messiah
With Beethoven hair

This wasn’t folk, baby blue
It’s some kinda joke on me and you
That night between eccentric and eclectic
Our Bobby went electric

Was he selling out on us?
Was he Judas Priest?
Was he spiitting in our face?
Was he now deceased?
“Just play it loud”
I thought we heard him say
Death to the sacred cows
They’ve all had their day

This wasn’t folk, baby blue
It’s some kinda joke on me and you
That night between eccentric and eclectic
Our Bobby went electric

Something is happening here
And we do not understand
You’ve left us stranded and we can’t go back to
“I Want To Hold Your Hand”
And if we could we’d still be lost
Don’t think twice, ma, about the cost
We’re gonna make a fuss
Until we make you come back to us
You wouldn’t be the first harlot rocked
For deserting their flock….

This wasn’t folk, baby blue
It’s some kinda joke on me and you
That night between eccentric and eclectic
Our Bobby went electric…
 
This wasn’t folk, baby blue
It’s some kinda joke on me and you
That night between eccentric and eclectic
Our Bobby went electric…

 

(c) Frank Howson 2013