insanityorgenius
i stood on the stage cigerette smoke so think it was like fog on the inside of the little jazz club my stage name was macy broadmoor i took it from my old dogs name and my steet broadmoor avenue.. the curtain lifts and i realize...fuck i cant sing.
it was mere chance that i picked him out of the crowd. the soft notes of the restless public becoming music when i look back on it. he caught my eye, and not the way people catch your eye in stupid teen mocies where you think a guys hot so you go talk to him...he really caught my eye, perhaps my heart. he was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve and you could tell what he was thinking and how he was feeling...i thought he looked sad, that first day in the train station. like something had just happened that could have driven him here away from a home which i knew nothing about. but its strange to think of himhaving a home. he wanders away from everything. he left the cities for coutry land, he left the coutry for mountains he left the mountains for strange jungles he's a wild man by heart. he left the jungles for the sea, and i hope someday he'll become bored with the sea to so maybe he'll come back to me.
somtimes poeple ask me why i kept his umbrella.
"its a keepsake" ill say as i lift it over my head.
becuase i dont have the corage to tell them the story of how i got it,
how all this time i wonder if you remember how you forgot it.
or how you never came back for it.
they'll ask me whats its use it never rains here,
and ill say "its always raining somewhere"
sometimes inside.
and we dont need math because you cant devide
by life how many times you might need an unbrella.
the ask me why i still care.
and i'll say if i didn't he might still be here because i cared enough to let you go
but i still left you unprepared...
without an umbrella.
so i keep it on the shelf by the door
and it only leaves me wondering more,
about how you've been since then and how many friends have been unprotected because ive still got it on my shelf
and who can really decide wealth
because rain drops can be dollars and my umbrella will catch them
and worth can be a collar connected to a choke chain holding back what you find important
and sometimes i'll sit and think of where you went
and how you never left
and why's it never raining outside so i can use you accidental gift
when the raindrops will be sent
and i'll think i need your protection. you never know what you could lose,
maybe it is a keepsake. but as long as i use it to remind me of you
it could never be of no use
i never planned on staying...i was just here temporarily i was leaving soon.
about to be transported to somewhere better. i never wanted any of this for myself...or for you. i never expectd the betrayel of a god. i was never warned that this could happen. and now im stuck. in this wasteland, where i cant even see you smile...its strange out of everything thats really all i want to see right now.
its hard to reach you
unless i have a keyboard
no matter how hard i try
im going away from you not twards
its hard to feel you
unless i use my heart
its hard to see you
without a little imagination.
i know i can settle
but my arms stretch out wide across the sea that seperates us.
and i find they arent long enough to cover the distance
the water giving to much resistance
always pulling me away
but perhaps ill bye a plane ticket and we can be together someday.
i dont remeber much. i like to call it selective memory.i have forgotten my childhood with the vague feeling it was aweful and thats why i forgot. i forgot the sound of your voice the exact shad of brown your hair was. i forgot what we talked about late at night on the phone..ive olmost fogotten you entirely i dont even remeber you enough to compare you to the men ive had since...i remeber you being better though. i remeber loving you. i remeber trying anything to forget. a i remeber when i didnt. i remeber when i heard you had got into some trouble. i remeber when you died miles away from me and suddenly all i wanted was to remeber you. what you mouth tasted like the things you liked i wanted to remeber the exact shape of your face but as i said i have selective memory and my brain always seems to know better than me and i forgot you.
i remeber the patch of land that we lived on. the stereo typicle kind of thing with feilds and dirt roads. i remeber standing on the porch and staring out in every direction there was never anyone around. i remeber the day the man came swiftly over the hills a pistol in his hand. i remeber when he shot my parents. how my mother screamed and how my father couldnt save her. i remeber...but i wish i didnt.
sure i was tempted. i mean whats the point of it all? all the pretty little girls have pretty little familys where their pretty little husband gets home from some fun with his pretty little mistress. sure i was tempted to just walk away from socienty. become an anarchist and fuck rules. you know what they say, the only way to remove temptation is to yeild to it.
she left the house. it was a warm sunny evening. she didnt turn back to look at what she was leaving she was only curious about how much she could afford to drink at the nearest bar. now that she did look back she was curious as to why she left.
i found the old poem. it was burried at the very bottom of the chest. danm i wispered. i was so close to forgetting the emmotions it expresses so clearly. danm was all i said and i burried it once more inhopes that it would return to the forgotten void of appathy.