TELL ME STORIES ABOUT OUR LIFE

Tell me stories about our life
Did we have fun?
Were you truly happy when you told me you were?
Because, you see, I was happy when I thought that to be so
And if you take that back now my life suddenly means nothing
And the doctors have nothing to give you to treat wasted years
And it breaks so many
To fall so far
So, let us just sit in the sun
On our favourite bench
Surrounded by the trees we named
And chat
Like we used to
When we held hands
Like each other was the most precious thing in the world
And it was
Or so I thought
Please tell me now
Was it true for you?
Or were you just being kind
When you said you were mine?
Were you settling for less
Than you believed the world owed you?
Do you feel that you threw away your life
And beauty
So I could live?
Because if you did
You have killed us both
And our life was just a one-sided
Delusional dream
Perhaps I worry too much
In these September years
But you’re all I have
My only constant
In a world that has lied about everything we’ve been told
For the last 50 years
A governmental plan to confuse us But enough about lies
I surrender
To whatever it was that got us through
Let us take some time out
And sit in this park
And you do the talking
Hold my hand
And tell me stories about our life

(C) Frank Howson 2018

 

painting by Frank Howson

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THAT LONG TRAIN RIDE

I was right
About all the little things that didn’t matter.
I was wrong about all the big things that did.
But youth is for foolishness and mistakes.
The concept being that you will eventually learn from mistakes and your heart will grow a harder layer of protection. This can be a lifelong education of regrowth if you don’t pay enough attention to details.
One theory is that we keep falling in love with the same person, over and over, like some weird drunkard’s dance in a Groundhog Day scenario. Even if that person was all wrong for us in the first place. So is it familiarity that attracts? The devil we know is better than the saviour we don’t? Perhaps we just tire from the waiting and settle for what we know. Attracted to those who remind us of ourselves? Or marry for money and security even though that brings in its train a lifetime of boredom and unrequited dreams and hopes? But surely that is not a living, but a dying? For money proves to be a cold companion and takes more than it gives. Doomed to buy all the toys and trinkets to impress others whilst your subsequent depression stemming from your inner knowledge that nothing purchased brings any lasting pleasure. You are a compromised person and although you can lie to your conscience your sub-conscious knows the truth, and forces you to spend most of your days sleeping. Hiding from life. Avoiding waking to the horror of who you really are. A prisoner trapped in a cell of your own making. Spending all your approved allowance on the best drugs to dull yourself to the harsh reality that you are already dead.
I took myself to Disneyland today.
Why?
I wanted to return to a simpler, safer time when I believed in dreams and heroes.
All around me was the sound of the laughter of children and the look of wonderment in their eyes.
They are years from cynicism and reducing the world to something they can understand.
I had a photo taken with Mickey but my idol Donald Duck was nowhere to be seen.
Disneyland was conceived and built by a sad and lonely man who acted childish at times. Because the truth is he was still a child and needed to build a romanticised version of his childhood town – a place where it was always clean, and wholesome and safe. And contained no tyrannical father. Ironic huh? Was he insane? In most people’s terms, yes. But at least his dreams were safer than those of young Adolf Hitler, a failed painter from Austria. Y’know, if young Adolf had’ve sold three or four landscape paintings the whole Second World War may have been avoided. I always say, “Be careful about pissing off creative people. That creative light force once turned back on itself can become very dark and destructive.”
On the other hand, all of the world’s great accepted visionaries were a little looney tunes. Some, very much so. Fortunately their insanities were focused towards something more publicly palatable than the Third Reich or the NWO. They risked everything thinking outside the box. Their own lives became secondary to their dream. And many died in their footsteps upon that lonely highway. They sacrificed romantic relationships, friendships, their dignity (as many were publicly ridiculed), their personal happiness, and a comfortable safe life. Why? And what for? A higher calling? Immortality? If there is no God and no afterlife why do people do this to themselves? If we’re just here marking time until the long darkness, why not just put the tools down and embrace the fairly interesting train ride to nowhere?
It’s the same with love. If it’s not a God-given gift to share then what exactly is it? Why care so much about it? Or anyone else?
I pondered all these things as I sat in my chair looking out the window that was shaped like Mickey’s head on the Disneyland Express on my train ride back to somewhere.

(C) Frank Howson 2018

THE PEOPLE OF DARKNESS

The living are always under attack from the dead. As night follows day so do those of darkness target those of light and stalk them with words of hero worship when,  the truth is, the mere existence of those with a spark irritates them and they consciously or, in some cases, subconsciously,  work toward the extinguishment of that flame. Wilhelm Reich writes about this condition in detail in his book The Murder of Christ.

The people of darkness use many tools to bring down the envied. Negative rumours, stories that are unfounded in fact, and a whole range of politically acceptable words to discredit their target i.e., Narcissist (this applies to anyone who is successful in showbiz who uses social media to promote their latest ventures) because the fact that someone may actually be getting off their fat ass and doing something reminds the person of darkness how meaningless and unfocused their own life is; Nazi (it is acceptable in today’s politically correct world to call anyone with an opposing opinion this and get away with it. This is disgustingly outrageous and unfair to their target whose only crime may be to have an original thought, as well as, obviously, making light of what the real Nazis did). But let me not bring logic into this lest I be called names. Anti-Semitic is a good one too in some cases. I have even witnessed Jewish people being called anti-Semitic because they dared to have an opinion that didn’t sit comfortably with the party line. Such is the out of control world we live in where the militant wheel gets oiled first and the logical debate is not only not considered it is condemned. Here we have a perfect storm for the people of darkness to not only hide within, but thrive.

Bob Dylan has predicted for some time now that we have entered the end game. Anyone who has studied theology and the predictions of the old prophets would have to concur. In my opinion we are currently engaged in the final war between good and evil, darkness and light, and the shadow people are only going to get more and more hysterical as things don’t go their way. They are currently very confused as to why things aren’t going the way of the Polls. Could it be divine intervention?

It is difficult to untangle yourself from a person of darkness because they are cling ons – spiritual vampires sucking your energy. And the more you give them the more resentful they will become towards you. For even your kindness is an irritation. A reminder of what they are not. They will insult you by praising strangers and even abusing and opportunistic ex-partners above your efforts to help, give and support. This is to make you crazy and so confused you will cease to be able to function and end up zombie like staring out a window into the light that was once your source. Do not under any circumstances feed them. Let well enough alone. Danger and madness this way comes.

(C) Frank Howson 2017

THE NIGHT DYLAN THOMAS DIED

It’s nearly nightfall
Watch your step
I once fell here
And got a bad rep
Black and blue
Chet Baker’s voice
You should still be with me
But it was your choice
And there’s the Chelsea Hotel
And the smell of stale beer
Expensive winos
Once drank here
I thought I saw Keith Richards
But it might have been me
Gore Vidal’s name
Is carved in that tree
They say he cried
The night Dylan Thomas died…

Tonight a nightcap
Feels like death
Your sacred name
Said under my breath
Lead me on
Return my youth
I can’t seem to cope with
Your version of truth
And there’s the Chelsea Hotel
And the stench of my fear
Poor Dylan Thomas
Once died here
I thought I saw his spirit
But it might have been me
Clark Gable’s name
Tattooed on your knee
I think you lied
The night Dylan Thomas died…

It’s four minutes to three
And I haven’t thought of you
Since the last time I cried
I’m playing Monopoly
With a man from Paraguay
Who was here the night Dylan Thomas died

And there’s the Chelsea Hotel
The address of King Lear
Edger Allan Poe
Once bled here
I thought I saw my father
But it might have been me
Time’s running out
Said God to a flea
All dreams denied
The night Dylan Thomas died…

And there’s the Chelsea Hotel
And the stench of my fear
Poor Dylan Thomas
Once died here…

 

Recorded by Keith Potger.

(c) Frank Howson 2013

GRAINS OF SAND

If my father had lived
He’d be ninety-three today
And still scratching his head
At life's mysterious play
If I live to be a thousand
And I doubt that today
I would still be blessing
The day he came my way

If my mother had lived
She’s be ninety in July
Still singing this song
Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Lie
If I live to be a hundred
And I hear what you say
I would still be blessing
The day she came my way

And we’re all just grains of sand
On God's eternal beach
Where the wind can blow our dreams
Just beyond our reach
But I've been honoured to know ya
Both family and foe
Here’s a song and a pint
To us all afore we go

’Twas your grandmother’s dream
To see you turn twenty one
But I’ll take her place
And shed her tear, my son
For I’ll live to be eighty
If I keep the pipes at bay
And I will still be blessing
The day you came my way

And we’re all just grains of sand
On God’s eternal beach
Where the wind can blow our dreams
Way beyond our reach
But it's been me honour to know ya
Both family and foe
Here’s a song and a pint
To us all before we go

Never learned a thing at school
Could never follow a rule
They kept losing me
One and one made three
So here I sit
An ignorant git
With a heart as big as the sun
A handshake for everyone
Seduced by the moon
Who dumps me too soon
As the morning catches my sight
I bid farewell to my love, the night

If your daddy don’t live

To see ya marry your love
You can bet all your dough
I’ll be watchin’ from above
When you bow to kiss your sweetheart
If rain begins to fall
My pride overflowing
It’ll be my tears that’s all

(c) Frank Howson 2013