All artists need an advocate in this world: someone who will stand up for you when you would rather remain silent; someone who will shout your talents from the rooftops when you hide yourself from the limelight; someone who will sing your praises to useful people when you would rather be modest; someone who believes in you when you struggle to believe in yourself. Such an advocate is every artist’s secret dream…
I had something to say on the train the other day when she sat with splendid beauty in my eyes [but she’ll never read these words so they’re really safe to say]. Now they’re out there in the ether in the splendour of display [how easy in our hindsight to be wise]
Here’s a sonnet I wrote to a lover 27 years ago. (Just click on the title below). I was so foolish in those days. Nothing much has changed…
Sometimes I feel your sunlight move away;
I fade and I grow cold and lifeless leaves
On limbs outstretched; in darkened skies there grieves
A dying tree for fields in which we lay.
Cool definition of political correctness which I saw today: “Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.” 🙂
I love being around genius people – those who show dedication, brilliance and passion in all they do, for whom no challenge is too great. Mostly they live and die unrecognised and unappreciated for their work. Doesn’t matter if it’s a street-sweeper extraordinaire, a mad professor in a laboratory or an artist who doesn’t need mescaline because s/he’s already there. My mind bounces off them like sky-dust in a tornado
Celibate solitude. It’s the only way. Splendid ice-olation. (I won’t go astray) here in my cave with a pen in my hand. For ages I’ve lived like a crab in the sand. Hermit-hearted. Eagle-eyed. Misunderstood. Hurts inside. At least no one listens each time I cry…
Well here’s a nostalgic little song which popped out of my head onto my Tosh while I sat alone in the dark in a lonely pizza bar in Ystad last night. It’s one of those which just had to be written or else. Held me hostage till it was finished..
I woke up in the morning
With a message on my phone
Saying: “A surge of huge emotion
’cause of you and I’m alone”
Why do you do this to me
When we long ago did part?
You have a way of reaching
With your words into my heart