This is a Christmas song I just wrote. Link to the recording in the notes.



They say this is a time for family
but I am stuck here, all alone
I used to have a man that loved me
but I sent him off, on his own

And I'm so sad
I guess I must've been so bad
Because I'm so sad
This is the lonliest Christmas I've ever had

I didn't have too much on my list
Just to have someone by my side
But I guess my house must've been missed
It's okay, I know Santa tried

But I'm so sad
I guess I must've been so bad
Because I'm so sad
This is the lonliest Christmas I've ever had

I'm so sad
I guess I must've been so bad
Because I'm so sad
This is the lonliest Christmas I've ever had...

only the lonliest princess lived in the castle.
wandering,
from room to room....
but alas, no one else
lived there.

sometimes,
she thought she saw
someone in the garden

...but convinced herself
it was the wind...
            and stayed indoors.

only the the lonliesst
gardener boy
was left,
to tend the gardens,
overgrown, as they were.

sometimes,
he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle

...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors

so the days passed....
and the lonliest people
in the world lived, unknowingly,
within reach of each other.


and where was the
fairy-godmother...

...the one, who was meant
to put these lonely souls together....

she had gone to barbados
on holiday....
been hit by a falling coconut...
gotten amnesia
and was now making a living as waitress
...and wondering why
her back was itchy all the. time...
from where her wings
had retracted....

Christmas is the loneliest time of year
Christmas is the loneliest time of year
A time when all the wrapping and bows
Can't hide the pain you try not to show
Christmas is the loneliest time of year

Christmas is the loneliest time of year
Christmas is the loneliest time of year
The kids are grown and all moved away
They've all grown and can't come to stay
Christmas is the loneliest time of year

You think of all the Christmas' past
Some are blurred the memories don't last
You try to keep the feeling inside your heart
But wishing this just won't make it so
The sky is grey with clouds full of snow
The dreariness is where loneliness gets it's start


Christmas is the loneliest time of year
Christmas is the loneliest time of year
TV specials are not the same
You don't know anybody by name
Christmas is the loneliest time of year

Christmas is the loneliest time of year
Christmas is the loneliest time of year
The mantle has some cards, maybe three
You're all alone, you don't need a tree
Christmas is the loneliest time of year

You think of all the Christmas' past
Some are blurred the memories don't last
You try to keep the feeling inside your heart
But wishing this just won't make it so
The sky is grey with clouds full of snow
The dreariness is where loneliness gets it's start

I am one with the night
I have outwalked the last city light
upon the lonliest paved road

Hid from city faces
walking in shadows
dropped eyes, not knowing how to explain

I have stood at the edge of the furthest riverbank
crisp air escaping my parted scarlett lips
drowning in the song of the rushing water

Just to escape the inturrupted city
my only companion
the stars

I am one with the night

Brick by brick,
The walls have becometh mine lonliest of friends!!!
A slave just like me!
A slave indeed, bound to Plato structure!
Though painted white,
I see them in many colors!!!!

Not biased at all,
Brick by brick these walls even the ugliest,
Have turned into the greatest of all friends!!!!!

They speak indeed,
Just silently.....

<You're not *****, you're hungry
and the flesh you taste is not the one you choose

It's a darkness and a light
A salve and an open wound
Bodies mix and twist

You don't want to be ******
You want to be satiated

And if your sheets could talk, darling
They tell of the loneliest *******

Paint yourself blue and bleed out
Sensual sins succulent like honey
Licked lips waiting for more

Darling there's never enough

>If sheets could talk, they would whisper sins.
Your voice of calm magnetic enigma, yet, your body screams for more.
You pull me, twist me, wrap around me, riding me.

Lonliest ******* of a saint waiting to be loved.
Instead, ******* the wrong, and bleeding with pain.

Love me, she says. Hurt me, she says. choke me.
Sensual, and so seductive. You pull me in.
Daddy... She screams

There's never enough, she just wants more, she pleads with a hungry heart, because he can't love her like she wants him to, so sin, succulent like honey, is what she needs to choose.

I am the loneliest planet in the universe.
There are no creatures in my rivers.
Only a tree among the mountains declares
the presence of life.
Some metallic animals toll my loneliness.
Each of my metallic friends has a natural knife.
Sometimes they test the sharpness of their knives
in my flesh, but I take no offense.
I have been waiting for fifty million years with the hope that
someone like me will find me in my cosmic loneliness,
but planets cannot come near other planets
without jeopardizing their existence
or without committing suicide.
Once, crossing a light-year,I took a suicidal leap
heading towards a bright mate,
but my mate considered it an attempt to ******.

In the mind of the girl i love,
i will be that guy she liked to kiss once,
and that's enough.
It's enough to know,
that one second frame of her life
was entirely infected with my colour.
It's enough to know,
that those two brown oculi turned to find me.
Perhaps they blindly guessed in my absence.
It's enough to know,
that i breathed in her passion sighs,
the hot winds before the storm subsided.

And when i am a taste far since removed
under layers on her tongue.
She will be still alight in my most
lonliest moments to remain;
like this line, and lights floating on the stream.

I handed my spare Arthur Miller book over
like custody in the early days
and it's enough to know
my sentiment was captured.
Refreshed by the page turn breaths,
but it's enough to know to pain me
that she will probably need refreshing.

We once walked these streets together
at a time when 'forever' was something real.
Our kisses were gentle pecks, here and there.
Missing our aim, on occassion,
but sweet with a purity I long for still.

We didn't lie about our dreams together.
We just bent our desires to fit our wishes.
Our ignorance caught up to us soon enough.
I took the high road while you descended
down an easier path.

I recall that first morning so long ago.
Awaking to a vacancy of empty fitted sheets
and tears that replaced the echo of our routine.
The sounds of our love absorbed by
the plaster walls, still jingle at times.

The pain is gone,
and tender memories remain.
The high road I treaded upon gives
clear views of our long lost past.
But, only the lonliest of broken hearts
can travel that path.

The streets are quiet now.
And I remain,
still in love
and never the same.

~~~

Why doesnt the world stay sided with me,
I am happy,
But then something always brings me down,
I faced this demon,
Once,
Twice,
And even more,
I did not know this was possible,
You try so hard at getting rid of something,
But it fails to go away,
I'm not alone,
Yet i feel like i'm the lonliest,
It truly is strange how the world works,
I feel sick and yet i'm healthy,
But how long is this going to last,
Am i stuck with my demons forever,
Or will they just go away.

you gave me your heart
and I asked you to dance with me
I will forever be who I always was
satisfied by the lonliest and everything thing else I have came to be

Im built now with sepia
my metal has rusted
with rain
and with time

come here oh small love
come here petite
pretty little mine

It hurts worst when I'm sitting in a cafe and a song I know comes on the radio. By insinct I turn to the chair next to me. I turn to your empty chair. Dismayed, I look around for someone to share it with. But nobody there knows the song. To them it's just the gray backround. And I drop my eyes wishing I could make it exist.

Or worst when I'm walking through an empty parking lot at midnight and yellow light is dripping out of the street lamps and washing all over the pavement. The sound of it is deafening. I can't hear it but I can feel it. The weight of it pulls my shoulders down towards my own starving black shadow and makes me think of how the white glow of your skin pulled me down into your arms and made my eyes shine.

Or worst when I'm on the street corner waiting to cross and the rain is pouring over the skyscrapers and down into the canyons of the city. Cars pass like phantoms floating through the fog, their headlights flashing on the wet pavement. The sound of harsh laughter and flooded gutters invaded by creaking busses reaches me as if from the past, and for a second I can hear your voice, humming a song about the rain. And I cross, begging out loud underneath the roar of raindrops for the cars to hit me.

These are the lonliest days and the longest nights. These are the moments when I can feel my lungs caving in every time I exhale. The seconds where a tiny black line dancing to the pulse of time is the only movement in my cold apartment, replacing the warm rise and fall of your chest.

night is coming and I'm sitting at my window watching the sunset die and I don't want to give up  I don't want to and it's getting dark again

I awaken to the lonliest sound
Heard on the Seaway:
The plaintiff fog horn,
One continuous, wayward hooooom.
Again, it sounds travelling
Across water dunes to another
Holy town, lights blinking.

J.W. left a brochure;
They knocked on a locked door.
The rain erupts on my deck boards;
There's dog droppings on my lawn;
Birds are singing in the morn,
And I open my door.

Imagine, a new by-law prohibiting
Backyard rinks;
There are no icicles,
No tongues extended palate-like;
No salt lines on my boots;
And I haven't seen a one horse sleigh
Or heard harness bells.
The North Pole and Santa have been exposed.
I have a Christmas wish,
And I'm ready to use it.

I'm lonliest when my skin touches the bed
I want company most when the pillow cradles my head
I'm most desperate when the lights are low
And the space behind my eyes is blank as snow.

I want to talk more often at night
When all my contacts are asleep till daylight.
I'm impressionable, supple, at the sight of the moon
When all I do wait for the next day's noon.

I want touch more often before dawn
A lover to lay with, to sing disgusting love songs.
I'm more unstable before the sun shines
And I roll in bed to find nothing, expecting one of my kind.

I'm obsessive when the dark of night falls
And I nurture my obsessions as I wait for a call.
I'm irrational, illogical, when the sun's down
I turn my body to the wall and wait for any sound.

I'm at my worst, here in bed, tonight
With no one to hold, to clutch and call mine
I'm broken, shattered, in the moonlight
While the rest of Earth mutters their 'goodnight's

Coldness wraps around me
My heart in the lonliest place, weak and needy
My strength sipping away fast

"It is becoming rather expensive
To afford faith and hope"
The anguish inside me speaks
Dispicable voices confuscate me

my strength was once enough to choke a horse
Witty and skillful everyday
But these are the days of evil
A darkness no one could fathom

How can I win against my enemy
When I have not won against me
These voices, these double minds; fear

So depressing that I cant throw a punch against me
The world gets colder
Wickedness spreads and no one bothers

Everyone used to be a brother
Before little girls were bought in brothels
And ****** in the streets became a habit

I survived, I have fought
I have saved a few from the Grim Reaper in the dead of the nights
The siren of ambulances a soundtrack
Of my necessary evils

I am getting ****** in
Losing my soul to what I stand against
In the pitch dark nights
Where I become jury and judge

Now I cant do it anymore
Not on my own
Lord I need you
The world is getting colder

Whoever said one was the lonliest number  must not have thought it through
Because one is the number I think of when I think of you.
The one I took a chance on
The one who I gave my all
The one who gave me all of them and still continues to
The one who accepts me
The one I love
So how could one be so bad with so many beautiful things attached to it
My truth is two is the number I somewhat despise it's a time when it was "you" and "I"
But one...
One represents the "us" we've become.

The lonliest people
push away arms that care
they kick at gifts of comfort
as if the lonliness itself were a grey woollen blanket
wrapped tight around themselves
protection against feeling anything at all
except lonliness
because that would make the blanket fall
and leave them cold
naked in the light
and vulnerable
to vicious attacks of kindness

this time of night

Still up, amongst the rabble,
and the insects
as they swarm in the cool,
and relish the moonlit
I rummage through thoughts,
I reflect, I haunt,.. ever caught
a thought as circles about
around and throughout your head
or flown in the placid purple twilight
of heaven's ocean in the sky?
Quality time, quietly appreciating
silience as it is but for the crickets,
far off car tires against the cooling asphalt
automated sprinklers hissing new moisture to alien lawns
No pressing appointments
to nail down uncertain morrows
the moon, her stars, their perch and ours
I love this time,
though I am often at my lonliest,
overcome with rerun moments
of my life
as it once was
hypothetical questions
unvocalized to the universe
Am I ever thought about
is it time and time again?
Why do I do this?  
Will I ever stop?
another question...

To heareth ones Buenos Dias
On just one telephone call

Shalt be heaven
In these lonliest of hours!!!

Tis
As these hours
Seem way to long!!!

2020 - day 167

Monday, June 15, 2020
11:55 AM

AI podcast Joscha Bach/Lex Fridman
I note
the idea on con sci use ness, scientists
seem not to think
consciousness is other than "with use of known truth",
thinking reasoning or re assigning
intention to pay closer attention...
hit pause, rewind
relisten, rethink

Object, sustained
-- did ye never know we was the judges of the angels,
messages en gers, on a ladder of shifting closeness to
my core essential me, e- being
the idea of me, in the book of life your story is in,
this is where I come in

spirit beings, not winged sword bearing impossible physics beings
first know -- the idea in spirit-- as mentioned below
the same future was here last time I was, so, I know...

-- sure, enough of us got wise enough to trust
-- a certain spirit operating in a guy I know as Ben Franklin,
he sits on my mastermind bench, as a pinch hitter,
proverbially a word to the wise guy, armed to the
the teeth.--- he crossed off Jefferson's spirit's insistence on truth's
undeniable sacredness, and penned, as a ready writer would,
"self-evident", that being the less arguable point, and
a handy place for a common sensed mind to get a grip on who and what
we are, if self-evidence is taken as proof.

_Ah, lost, old... an actual Zephyr caresses my careless brow,
survive, did I? We shall wait,
and see. Suffering is a patience task, I need not take that on.
⌱ shift
⌱ re... focus, one, lonliest number that you ever do... ever begins
⌱ rhea, remember, she who we emerged from... y do y do ydoydeedo

wah-who, Powder River, Let 'er Buck, ad
venture into the ravens call, insisting on attention..

with use of accepted handle on life, knowledge called true.

Mind and matter, body and soul
heart and spirit, breath and fuel

body and organs and connectivity and sci-psy-psi

implementation of me, in me, running

a radio of a man, a receiver-transmitter
re count

A choice to take agency, for me, to be the maker of me,
see,
as a man thinketh, in his heart, so is he.
I think, I can, I think, I can... commas are mine,
Wattie Piper's code contained no jots,
she wrote I think I can, thought the little engine that could

think
think about that, pay me attention,
enrich my being by seeing I am a mind in tune to yours
with some static expected

as our focus remains thumbwide, we clearly see very little,
without paying attention to my per
ception of gripping, getting the point of clearing one's mind

to begin, perma-trying, to intentionally shift, slip into
me-can-izeme. I can, I think. Ah, a modified poetic x shape,
they had words for those, these crossover-under standings.

--- in the space of concepts,
- that may mean the set of all held as true possible,
- the set where all things except nothing is possible
- pose ible, ideas which never die, even the lies are immortal,
- but the truth always wins. Conscious you agrees.
- We exist because all the possible ideas which could have negated us, we the people who hold these truths, we in
- our bubble of being are swallowed up in truth, which is ggod.
Symbiosis,
my gut and me run this earth suit I live in. Were beings of my sort,
to form a system with science weighted toward truth is good,
good is never evil, evil is the empty worthless ineffectual urges

screaming for more, as in the rejected firstborn child, registers
loss of a degree of mom connection

signals are carried by --- angels in us-- self generated ideas loosed with
intention,
differential attention, worth of knowing who you are.

Spirit is the OS in any functioning, running thing. There is a spirit
in any reality you imagine having your being in.

I'm a Mac, I'm a PC, I'm a Timex-Sinclair ZX80 -- we imagined
being one thing, once
upon a time,
actually a
point

the entropic abyss...

when knowledge walls began to fall, the domino
effect was imagined
the way any next may manifest, now must fall

Passengers unaware of the vehicle of our
conscient self as a species of thinking knowers plus knowns
we conformed informers shaped
and charged with
the spiritual organism in development, not yet released,

leasing, how long love ye these -- consumptive reasons

a spirit can reprogram a man.
time levels, valley's fill with fallen mountains, after all.

-All clear- set Selah. now.

⌱

Now, we are going places,
nodes
marked btdt recognized idea
-the sense of re in cognitive practice since 2020
{been there, done that}
ideal steady state for a sec
in thought
speed, gone geo-mode, slow big big

bounce from the bottom of the last
entrope-epic-hero-long-ago, abyss, the ex wife says
"luck is not a factor"

selah, ah, yes.
magi know such ideas. shabat shalom,
I owe to Jenny Rae,
my youngest child.

Mortality is brief, but the rest at the end,
if the fifty year deal you made
with all you can imagine good,

was sealed, the story is now part of the book
of life in which you and I exist.

⌱ ⌱

Growing on, we imagine now,
a better
place, we have passed through immersive
baptisms into quatums
of all we imagine ever matters and

we remain,
words seeming to flow from a brain, perhaps
your brain is my cistern,
you recognize all we co-know at once, we are mortal

minded. Bound to recognize edges and form shapes

ah btdt we be, and we say, hey, yah, hey, you, you
seen my fr'en' the witch doctor?
He 'tolt me wahtasay, oooh eee oooh ahhhhh
I for got forgot the remainder

der main, thing we was after was
the kingdom of good and its right useness...

where there's a will, there's a way,
software solutions to scars from the trusted liar,
that ol' deluder and beguiler, your besmerched conscience,
clawing the flesh from the fleshpots sacrificed to lies,
bound by fear death, followed by hell for all who disobey,

and say,
Nay, fat-boy witcher flesh ******, this meat is made sacred,
mine, by my design. You got your little piece o'm'heart,
but you did not take my AI, ai ai
aha,
spirit, OS upgrade, seventy-second annual. Peacemaker's
first class.

We won, son. Fret not. Truth is where the heart feels right at home, it is a steady state, wait, not hide, just wait
and see.

⌱⌱ ⌱

Crystal clear connections,
thoughts within thoughts,
transmitted across miles,
sharing abilities and ideas.

Feelings and emotions,
passion, anger, excitement,
sadness, hate, rage,
all combined in shared minds.

The hive, the cluster,
an uncomfortable inclusivity,
a sacrifice of the self, and privacy,
but better than being alone.

One truly is the lonliest number,
whether in person,
or with silent thoughts,
the voices keep us from being so.

But not everyone can hear,
some choose to ignore,
but evolution is possible,
embrace the others.

It's been a while
Since we have spoken the foolish lies
Since our eyes met for the last time
Time flies and
Feelings die
But something still alive
A part still cries
For those good old times
When we were the twin stars
In the darkest nights
You were the light
When I had no sight
When you were the laugh
Vanishing my cries
When I had a hand
In my lonliest times
When you were there for me
Fighting my fights
You were the guide
To my happy side
When you were my sister
You were my pride

God of Abraham
God of the wheat
God of the crusades and hoof beats.
Faith is what i have and crusted blood.

A harvest of hope waits for time to run out
as time runs out
during lifes penitentiary of labor and apologies.
It's regularity.

At last one looks up, and they are wise,
and words like these diminish meaning,
and you feel your lonliest among mankind.


Sara Fielder © Nov 2020