I sat
between the city and the sea
On a sunny summer’s day
When an Italian dream
a rocker queen
decided to grace me

It feels so unreal
to see such an angel exist
Her braided raven hair
and icy seductive stare
keeps me in wondrous bliss

With crystal shades
of green and blue
Her lovely eyes
gazed into
my passion
And found
the soundtrack of our lives
to be the same
Yet different
in the world to which it played
Nevermind the language spoken
Our lives connect
In hybrid moments

Welcome to L.A
A place where Angels belong
Though you cannot stay
A connection is lifelong
So let’s dance while we can
singing rock and roll songs
Creating memories
that will never be gone
The experience
of meeting you
An Italian Deam come true

A lonely soul, looking for inspiration;
Balanced on the edge of life.

Words penned from a dark mind,
With occasional flashes of light.

A loser in the end, but brilliantly -
And everyone missing the point.

It Was the Wind. I.

It was the wind
    That comes through me

1,000 songs of voices singing

penetrating to

my bones

       incomprehensible

stories
       all electricity
       and fire

and I could ride you
blind
          through miles of time

never truly knowing

the words with which

to make you known to me

but we I feel

though not I see

It was the wind

That wore a

whole in me.

 








It Was the Wind. II.

         It was the wind
         ceaseless howling
         a never ending
                  cacophony
               of sad stories

         and the unreasonable

         wear

         of time

                  blowing deep

         sanding down my memories

         where-ing away my

         mind

         everything gives


                  to the wind

         find me here
                 If the wind hasn’t

         yet picked

         me

         clean.

 









It Was the Wind. III.

































                                                                          . . . it was the wind.

I need the path,
That I do not have.

Kicked while I'm down,
Lost in surveyance of my barren mindscape.
Littered with hopes and dreams,
That were just too far from reach.
Not even worth trying for anymore.
Kicked aside like tin cans on an empty highway.

I dare not even muster the strength to take a harmless peek,
Because emptiness isn't worth the effort.

Standing in the center of an endless road,
Going in no particular direction.
I don't know where to go.


~Robert van Lingen

We never truly get over
the great loss of life.
Like water smoothes and
shapes a rock over time,
loss carves and shapes
the soul into a much kinder
more loving person.

i have a soft spot for
tough times, i said from my stomach,
pouring out thick-red wine,
dusty lights and heavy air, breathless voices
and silverware clattered --
i can't be
your rock and
your punching bag, she said with one
corner of her lips curled,
reaching for her glass, a dry wooden door
shut, and the whined shriek of wind
stopped.

Rotten
Displaced silence
Took presidency
Over anything ever before
And never once again
Beginning to account from
Where she left

She flew for a minute
Then touched earth
And decided
It wasn't her cup of tea
Why sit with
The normals
Why retrace the
Same look
The same composure
She felt very much out of place

But look wait she said
There's a higher ground instead
I don't desire enough quit yet
Still I want to finish my making
I've forgotten a few steps
Along the way
See I've been undertaken
By hardships
And bills and kids and life
Its all taking a very long
To allow and to claim
And to find myself some piece of mind
All my own
I had completly forgotten who
I was
The black brain void I called it
Sepped in one night and she forgotten
How to leave it
So she stood there
Frozen
Running in place
Not making a silent
Yet screaming nothing
All day

The empty took hold of her and made a martyer out of a prince
The principals thumb ruled her own
Hell she Forgot she even had a voice

Dark,bleak days are coming, darker yet ahead,
Would say I am sorry, but won't 'cause I'll be dead.

Sour land below us and angry sky above,
And those who seek to control us, have morons sell us love.

We've severed the connections, not our fault we didn't mean,
We're under the protection of almighty mobile screen.

I'd rather I was mental, I'd rather that  I was gone,
In the world that ***** on metal, I cannot be or belong.

I know the tastes wildly differ, and can tear people apart,
But I'll never ever consider, to consume that which you call art.

It had an unbridled joy
Screaming guitars, weeping
As the current flowed through
Pickups, feedback and tremolo
Arm distortion, a cacophony of
Chords, played by would be
Rock stars, accompanied by
Thundering drums and a base
Turned up to number eleven,

It wasn't about the music, it
Was about the noise, the energy
Generated by hundreds of sweaty
Bodies out for blood, out with
The boys, nothing pleasant here
An outpouring of emotion, beyond
The pale, it exists in us all, but
Only some could tap the source, for
A chance to be a three minute hero.

Commercialisation won in the end
Bringing the ugly monster to its
Knees begging for fortune, craving
More fame, as soon as the track was
Recorded punk died on a mixing desk,
Some kept a little kudos, pretending
Not to play the game, some died trying
To be an eternal flame, some are there
Still, banging out the good old days.