{"id":1686,"date":"2016-10-26T02:48:32","date_gmt":"2016-10-26T00:48:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=1686"},"modified":"2016-10-26T02:53:27","modified_gmt":"2016-10-26T00:53:27","slug":"12-do-not-disturb","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-vdgg\/12-do-not-disturb\/","title":{"rendered":"12. Do Not Disturb"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nALOFT<\/strong><\/p>\n

Whispers of a wind to lift you off the ground,
\nthe breath of air that’l take you where it wil ,
\nthis flight of fancy carries you until you know for sure
\nthere’s no going back
\nto where you were before,
\nnow you’ve lost the knack.<\/p>\n

With best-laid plans you once flattered to deceive,
\nof fatted calf were intent to eat your fil .
\nPerpetual motion carries you but stil you now for sure
\nthat you can’t keep track
\nand you can’t keep score
\nthere’s no going back any more.<\/p>\n

You were tethered,
\neyes and ears peeled tightly on the ground,
\nwhat goes up is certain to come down…
\nsteady measures,
\nlearn to take the whole thing in the round.<\/p>\n

Keep on talking,
\nfor that’s al that’s keeping you aloft;
\nit was awkward
\nholding in your breath before the off.
\nNow you travel, though you’re not so eager to arrive.
\nOn the journey what respect you earn is token,
\nfaith in progress goes unspoken
\nand that’s al that’s keeping you alive.<\/p>\n

And you know it’s not the going, it’s the getting there
\nthat’l slow you, so you real y can’t remember where
\nyou were heading when you started;
\nal was eloquence but now it’s al hot air.<\/p>\n

Draw breath in apprehension,
\nno safety features left in place,
\nyour sentence in suspension.
\nyou’re clinging on, a basket case.
\nYou didn’t want to tel me
\nabout your secret passion.
\nWhat dummy would you sel me
\nwith such unfashionable haste?<\/p>\n

Hold it steady,
\ncan’t afford to let direction drift.
\nAre you ready?
\nThe denouement when it comes is swift.
\nAre you joking? Were you hoping for some jol y japes?
\nEat those words or spit them out before they choke you.
\nFlailing progress,
\nfrom this moment
\nI don’t see you making your escape.<\/p>\n

And you know it’s not the going, it’s the getting there
\nthat’l get you, that’l get you, no-one lets you
\nknow you’re slowly in the process of forgetting where
\nyou were heading when you started.
\nAl was eloquence
\nor was it al hot air?<\/p>\n

So the pay-off’s due,
\nnow you’ve told your tale.
\nAl the words you used
\nare exhaled.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nALFA BERLINA<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the fullness of time, when it’s al waxed and waned
\nand the cycle’s complete maybe it’l make sense at last,
\nal the strangeness explained, al the stories discrete.
\nMaybe then it’l al be clear.<\/p>\n

I’ve got a lifetime’s library of unreliable mementoes
\nand I could show you one or two
\nif it’s of interest, it’d be an education
\nfor me to simply talk you through
\nhow I wore my innocence as some kind of novelty
\nas if I didn’t know
\nbetween the devil and the deep blue sea
\nlay the fire down below.<\/p>\n

Al sense of caution was abandoned in the moment,
\nour eagerness to claim the day.
\nThe dice we rol ed would take us anywhere
\nand there were no excuses left to stay.
\nThis was the time, this was the chance to go
\nand do it in some style.
\nJust turn your face up to the summer sun
\nand drive a thousand miles
\nin an Alfa Berlina.<\/p>\n

I saw a wolf high on the mountain pass,
\nthe stars were tumbling end to end.
\nI knew I’d never feel as free as this again.
\nThe sea below us like a looking-glass,
\nwe drifted through the hair-pin bends
\nin the Alfa Berlina.<\/p>\n

So very long ago, so far away,
\nit’s al time out of mind
\nbut when I think about the way it was
\nwe were recklessly alive
\nin the Alfa Berlina.<\/p>\n

In the fullness of time I can look back and say
\nI first fel on my feet
\nin the Alfa.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nROOM 1210<\/strong><\/p>\n

He kept to his own company last night
\nlay upon the bed,
\ndrapes and blinds shut tight.
\nHe booked the wake up cal ,
\nhis cases were al packed up by the door.
\nAl ready for it, then:
\ngoodbye Room 1210.<\/p>\n

He’s taken a view
\nand squandered a few moments here
\nbut no time’s wasted when
\nhe’s in Room 1210.<\/p>\n

Away from al the brutal noise outside
\nhe paces out the waiting time,
\nDelaying at the threshold of the door,
\nhe’s never going to go back to the party.<\/p>\n

A black and white film
\ndubbed in a language
\nhe can’t understand’s
\nbeen on the TV awhile.
\nThe night rush below,
\nthe sirens outside come and go –
\nno-one can touch him when
\nhe’s in Room 1210.<\/p>\n

Time and event disappear
\nbut every wal has ears
\nand the stories accrue.
\nDimly, he notes spinning gears
\nhe’s one among the ghosts
\nwhose lives have been spent in
\nRoom 1210.<\/p>\n

A place of safety al his own
\nnow he’s not ever going home.
\nBehind the door
\nthere’s just one favour he implores:
\ndo not disturb him
\nany more.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nFOREVER FALLING<\/strong><\/p>\n

I reorganised the diary,
\nI had pencil ed in a window for us to meet,
\nthough I knew that you’d be dancing to a different beat
\nWhen you showed up. I was ready
\nfor whatever psychodrama you’d got in store.
\nYeah, we both knew we’d have been through this before.<\/p>\n

Check the time and motion,
\nput a stopwatch on the story and don’t look back
\nas we lock in to our repetitious act.
\nYou’re the eager beaver, keen to make a mark,
\nI’m a true believer, whistling in the dark,
\nbuilding up the fever.<\/p>\n

Over and over we go through the motions,
\nhold on the notion one day it might change.
\nTry not to show it but we’re lost in the moment
\nmeanwhile I try to hold on to the ghost of a chance,
\nfal ing through my fingers.<\/p>\n

Season by season we seek an agreement
\nbeyond rhyme and reason, however estranged.
\nMeeting and greeting, our time here is fleeting.
\nMeanwhile we wheel around in an impression of dance.
\nFal ing through our fingers,
\nit’s al fal ing through our fingers.<\/p>\n

What’d you real y want?
\nDare you ever say
\nwhat you real y want?
\nWatch it slip away…<\/p>\n

And the moral of the story
\nif there’s one at al is, surely, to get a grip
\non what’s forever fal ing through our fingers,
\nforever fal ing through our fingertips.<\/p>\n

You’re the eager beaver, keen to make a mark,
\nI’m a true believer, whistling in the dark.
\nWhat a pair of divas! What a pair of bright sparks!<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\n(OH NO! I MUST HAVE SAID) YES<\/strong><\/p>\n

I don’t want to talk about the old days any more,
\nI’ve set aside al the unsettled scores
\nbut nonetheless the past stil casts a shadow on me.<\/p>\n

I could walk away without a second glance,
\nthe way things panned out down to random chance
\nbut nonetheless the logic’s far beyond me.<\/p>\n

Oh no! I guess I must have said yes.
\nOh no, I must have said yes.<\/p>\n

So now I find I’m in a parlous place,
\nrepenting at leisure for what I did in haste,
\nal my past promises are catching up on me.<\/p>\n

Oh no, I guess I must have said yes
\nalthough I’m inclined to digress
\nI know I must have said yes.<\/p>\n

And if blame’s attached to anybody
\nIt’l be me,
\nI’m the one who said that I agree.
\nI apologise to everybody,
\nwhat else can I do?
\nNow I’l do my best to see it through,
\nI’ve got not other option.<\/p>\n

No excuses, no stewing in my juices,
\ndenial is useless, holy cow,
\nwith precision my everyday decisions
\nhave led me to be in the here and now.<\/p>\n

I’l be right here and now for what it’s worth
\nhoist on my own petard as I am
\nbut let’s not talk about the old days<\/p>\n

except to say the consequences run,
\nto be plain, what’s over isn’t done
\nand you thought you were only having fun.<\/p>\n

Oh no, I guess I must have said yes
\nalthough I was under duress
\nI know I must have said yes.<\/p>\n

Though I don’t know quite what happened to me,
\nhow the story went,
\nsomewhere on the way I gave consent.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nBROUGHT TO BOOK<\/strong><\/p>\n

Named, the day and date,
\npicked, the place and time to meet,
\nset, the words I uttered in stone.<\/p>\n

To right the many wrongs
\nthat I’ve done along the way,
\nnow the bal 's in my own court.<\/p>\n

Angels hide in the inglenook.
\nSaints alive, I’l be brought to book.<\/p>\n

One false move was al it took.<\/p>\n

Al the wicked thoughts wil be brought to book.
\nI’m not proud of what I did before,
\nI acknowledge al my actions nonetheless.
\nUndiminished, the returning score,
\nI played my part in any sins I now confess…<\/p>\n

Al that’s done is done
\nand al that comes along the way
\nlands up in the lap of the gods.<\/p>\n

One false step, one last look,
\nunder time and tide I’l be brought to book.<\/p>\n

I never thought I’d get to see this through,
\nthe cold documented case.
\nOne by one the arguments fal through,
\nthe past stares me in the face,
\nnever thought I’d see it through.
\nHere it is, the self-obsession and surrender,
\nhere it is, it’s right in front of me,
\nhere it is, the package gets returned to sender
\nhere, with interest, it comes back to me.
\nI never thought I’d see it through.<\/p>\n

Final y wearing history naked on my face
\nI’l disclose the truth of what I’ve done,
\nreveal the lines I’ve spun in passing.
\nI wil face up to the music
\nand with what breath’s left in my lungs
\nI’l settle up the score and bid farewel to everyone.<\/p>\n

Time to square the circle,
\ntime to dot the \u201ci\u201ds and cross the \u201ct\u201ds,
\ntime to keep on working
\nto unspot the hand that did the deeds,
\nto wash out the wounding,
\nto effect a final remedy.
\nIn the last accounting
\nal the sum of parts in threnody.<\/p>\n

I’m not proud of who I’ve been before.
\nI’ve no pride in what I’ve done before.
\nTime alone holds what’s in store.<\/p>\n

I’m gathered in by hook or by crook;
\nal in due course I’l be brought to book.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nALMOST THE WORDS<\/strong><\/p>\n

These are almost the words
\nI intended to say,
\nthis so nearly makes sense.
\nAlthough the cut’s too close for comfort
\nlanguage goes eventual y astray.<\/p>\n

There goes the neighbourhood
\nunder the flood
\nand comprehension’s culled and clustered
\nround the sudden onrush of hot blood.<\/p>\n

And in imprecision
\nwe are al lost for words.<\/p>\n

Al lost, alas, alack,
\nal points alarm,
\nsounding out the sweet sargasso
\nsea of language we are al becalmed.<\/p>\n

So close, almost the words
\nbut nearly isn’t clear and drains our
\nunderstanding of the overheard.<\/p>\n

In incomprehension
\nwe are al lost for words,
\nal at last lost,
\nwe are al lost for words.<\/p>\n

At last you come round to believe what you heard
\nas circumstance found you lost for words.
\nThe secret’s unspoken, the sense is absurd,
\nthe safety net’s broken, lost for words.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nGO<\/strong><\/p>\n

There’s the thing, hold it close.
\nYou had your fling. you laid your ghosts.<\/p>\n

Time to leave, close the door.
\nYou can’t believe you wanted more,
\nmore or less, al for the best
\nin the end it’s al behind you.<\/p>\n

There’s the thing, for al you know
\nit’s time to let go.<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

ALOFT Whispers of a wind to lift you off the ground, the breath of air that’l take you where it wil , this flight of fancy carries you until you know for sure there’s no going back to where you … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":517,"menu_order":12,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1686","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1686","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1686"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1686\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1696,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1686\/revisions\/1696"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1686"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}