A friend of a friend is now my friend befriended to me to the very end she always has an ear to lend especially to me who's on the mend placating anxiety to which I tend many minutes with her I love to spend her hand of friendship there to extend she runs a cafe which I do commend competitive pricing prevents overspend moist scones with strawberry jam I recommend making weekends existentially transcend to be fake cousins we sometimes pretend for a meeting place she's a godsend when I feel my life descends towards a dead end she wends my spirits to relentlessly ascend her recipe for life has the perfect blend now do the right thing and make this trend!
You don't look you see you don't listen you hear shells a no man's land death
The first 2 lines are from interview footage I saw today from a WW1 British soldier filmed in the early 1960s. This would be the same for all nationalities who lost their lives in the horrific European trench warfare from 1914-1918.
Work; unable to accept intermittent teasing texts of temptation in a gross gig economy sick notes but no sick pay in a universally dis-credited world
Limbo; a place no one should go or find themselves in a prematurely ageing body fighting against the rising tide of the ravages of time an existential mind distortion of how to live the healthy life that's gone before for the future ever after
Future; if only we knew the present could be ridden like an untamed horse across a river of destiny where flows turbulent but cleansing water to an opposing land of opportunity where the past need not shape what happens next
Re-invention; a cure for all ills
A transitional period in my life after a life changing event
I gaze at a photo of the 3 years old me blond hair with an uneven fringe blue eyes twinkling at the freshness of this nascent life a slight gap at the top of my baby teeth showing through a natural gentle smile a knitted jumper of a maroon shade over a buttoned up white shirt
This could be an airbrushed cover boy such is the perfection of this angelic child but the year is 1970 with limited technology the photographer an uncle or an aunt just another kid in a growing family
I've seen photos of Kurt Cobain at the same age we were born only 3 days apart the resemblance to me is striking he born in the rainy north west of the USA my birth in the rainy north west of England both with Irish heritage both part of generation X both from humble backgrounds both journeys poles apart
Only death parted my parents I had a settled loving upbringing I never learned to play a musical instrument I never joined a band I never sold millions of albums I never had a stomach complaint I never fell to the temptations of narcotics I never married Courtney Love I was never the voice of our generation I never made the ultimate catastrophic decision
But I did listen to that voice I did listen to the angry, confessional lyrics I bought those albums they still spoke to me I still listen to them now I'm alive and still here in my 50s
I don't have much money I've never had fame that ship sailed without me that ship sails stormy waters that ship hits icebergs that ship can sink
I give thanks every day for what I have cash poor love rich