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

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

I LOOKED AT THE SKY

Today

I looked at the sky

And wondered why

Nothing makes sense down here

We judge people on shades

And not substance

We fall over ourselves

To worship idiots

We stay too long at parties

For fear of going home with ourselves

To the same room

Tomb

We live and die in

We put on a happy face to answer the door

But can’t sustain it

It’s easier to go out

Than let anyone in

I used to be a fast runner in my youth

Because there was always a clear finishing line

Now

I run from things

And just keep going

I miss getting a tin medal

Though

And applause

And hugs

It’s lonely running from something

You don’t understand

To somewhere you may never belong

So I prefer to run in circles

Some tell me that’s a waste of time

But isn’t that life?

Today

I looked at the sky

And wondered why

 

(c) Frank Howson 2020

A BRAND NEW YOU

I was too wise to see

What everybody else knew

To spite you I outsmarted me

I fell in love with a brand new you

She talks like you

Walks like you

Does everything except

Think like you

Everything you’ve been hearing

Is true

I fell in love with a brand new you

Now what do I do?

Let’s wait and see

Will the same ending be true?

Leave it up to me…

 

(C) Frank Howson 2020

THE DAY GEORGE ROMERO MET BOOM BOOM GECKO

It was a normal day

Like any other

Knee deep in chaos

And calls from his mother

George Romero had just flown back

A big game hunter who’d gone off-track

With a reputation of some renown

He caught a taxi into town

He’d come a long way on a wing and a song

The driver took a right but something was wrong

But George was dreaming with

His eyes wide open

Without the knowledge

Of what he needed then

George Romero’s destination

A pressing office obligation

Now just a shadow of his former self

Employees worried for his health

But neither George or friends

Knew what laid in store

Within the waiting room

Just behind the door

 

The day George Romero met Boom Boom Gecko

Is still talked about in hushed tones

The gossip mongers picked the bones

Of every sincere act

The first thing that dies is fact

Hounded when push comes to shove

Hypocrites wiped their feet on their love

 

Now Boom Boom Gecko

Was a Sydney beauty

A former door girl from

The Club Tutti Fruitti

George fell headfirst for Boom Boom’s charms

Some say he landed safe in her arms

Others snigger about the lonely wife

Who George fled from to save his life

Now he has found what he’d been looking for

With a girl like Boom Boom who could want for more

 

There’s a poet spewin’ up words

He can’t pronounce

And a sweet young chicken

Hawkin’ her ass for an ounce

A religious prisoner

Gets a knife in the back

And free falls as slowly

As Jack Kerouac

 

The day George Romero met Boom Boom Gecko

Is still talked about in hushed tones

The gossip mongers picked the bones

Of every sincere act

The first thing that dies is fact

Hounded when push comes to shove

Hypocrites wiped their feet on their love

 

 

(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.

HEAVENLY.

I have only a limited amount of time left to inhabit this body. But I will go on. Like we all do. As a speck of dust floating in the universe. Free, untroubled, and no more time constraints. Oh, and the music, the symphony of silence, which will move even a speck to feel whole like never before.

Having been educated for a lifetime on earth, we are acclimatised to being alone. But it won’t bother us anymore because we’ll now know that it’s at our core to be this way. On earth we lived outwardly for the enjoyment of others, whilst living our real spiritual life within our heads.

It was good preparation for this new life. Our real life. Devoid of any more death or disappointments in this void amidst the great vastness of all voids. Drifting. Weightless. Nowhere to go for there is no “where.” There is only here. And now. No time to be on time somewhere. No further commitments or responsibilities. Nothing to feel guilty about for there are no religions in this new place of real love and peace. All that belonged back in that ant-like existence when we had so little consciousness we could never comprehend the complexities, and yet simplicity, of this great vastness and freedom of being. In this new existence you can let your mind wander for a thousand years, even a million, in old time, and then snap back to a moment before that thought even occurred.

You now realise that the great artists – the writers, the painters and the composers – instinctively understood it.

Finally, we are fulfilled with a capacity to love that was once capped on earth by a ceiling we feared pushing beyond. But now, we experience it to the full which unleashes a bliss to make each of us feel like God. Because in this moment that never ends, we are God.

I was young just yesterday, and now I am older than the world will ever be.

Looking back at my earth life, I now realise that most of us were only living because we feared dying.

But there’s nothing to it.

 

(c) Frank Howson 2020