{"id":861,"date":"2013-04-20T19:09:14","date_gmt":"2013-04-20T17:09:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=861"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:26:04","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:26:04","slug":"24-this","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/24-this\/","title":{"rendered":"24. This"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

Time for the unrehearsed entrance,
\nshow a leg you can break,
\ndown the cocktail
\nwhile it’s laughing at you for heaven’s sake….
\nI can’t be your protector
\nfrom these deliberate mistakes.<\/p>\n

Between the „can’t” and the „maybe”
\na lifetime’s hovering in the wings:
\ngrasp the nettle, bite the bullet
\npush your own buttons and pull your own strings.
\nName your poison
\nwhile you’ve got the power, 100 proof.
\nI can’t be your protector
\nfrom self-neglect or abuse.
\nThis is not a rehearsal
\nand fear is not an excuse.<\/p>\n

And if you won’t step out on the boards
\nyou’ll find your place already on the shelf –
\nyou can only find the sum of your parts yourself.<\/p>\n

Unprepared and unready,
\nis that an excuse or a point of view?
\nYou can block out the words in anagrammatical sword play
\nbut it’s your own life you’ll be running through.
\nTime to drink a cocktail
\nof your own invention for pity’s sake
\nI can’t be your protector,
\nI won’t be there when you wake
\nto honour all the hidden intentions
\nin your deliberate mistakes,
\nbehind your deliberate mistakes.<\/p>\n

Deliberation could be mistaken for coldness of the heart;
\nProcrastination won’t get you anywhere except aloof and apart;
\nwhat’s the golden opportunity
\nyou’re hanging on here for –
\nisn’t it just this?
\nGo! Start!<\/p>\n

Unrehearsed and unready
\nthat’s what we are,
\nwhat we’ve all been cast into….
\nIt’s not four square, the beat’s unsteady
\nbut this is this
\nand making something of it’s up to you.<\/p>\n

An unexpected exit’s always waiting
\nalthough you think it’s something you’ll bluff your way through.
\nSpit that wooden spoon out of your mouth
\nand eat up – the moment’s long overdue.
\nTake your medicine
\nand face whatever the future brings
\nI can’t be your protector,
\ncan’t keep you under my wing.
\nThis is not a rehearsal,
\nthis is the real thing,
\nthis is the real thing.
\nThis is for real.<\/p>\n

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

I’m
\n(so stupid)<\/p>\n

Along this pilgrim’s accidental progress
\nI’d bump into the walls as like as not:
\nIt’s no surprise I didn’t notice when I lost the plot.<\/p>\n

I went and did something
\n(so stupid, so dumb)<\/p>\n

Error-message ever more intensive,
\nred lights were burning on the air –
\nno I can’t say that I was consequentially unaware<\/p>\n

when I did something
\n(so stupid, so dumb)
\nI saw it coming
\n(so stupid)
\nnow all I want to know is how come
\n(how come?)
\nwe’re all fingers and thumbs?<\/p>\n

Confused but not entirely aimless,
\nthough you might find comfort here is faint:
\nif we lived lives that were quite blameless then we’d all be saints:
\nI don’t think so.<\/p>\n

Get a life:
\nyou’ve got to do something
\n(so stupid)
\nwe all do something
\n(so dumb)
\nself-seed our own destruction
\nnobody understands it, how come we’re all fingers and thumbs?<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nSince the Kids<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was simple, we were man and wife;
\nsomething happened to change everything in life
\nand made us feel small but we were giants nonetheless
\nand here we are all in the family portrait.<\/p>\n

I’ve been sliding in a 2.4-wheel skid:
\nsomething happened to me and since the kids
\nall time’s gone awry, direction’s askew…
\nI never thought that I
\nwould ever feel so used up.<\/p>\n

The sense of wonder, the note of panic, demands you just can’t ignore
\nnothing prepares you to be a parent,
\nlooking to join the strands of the broken chord.<\/p>\n

What you wanted, what I couldn’t give…
\nsomething happened to us – oh, but since the kids
\ninherit the earth
\nwe had to plough and drill the field,
\nnurture the shoots with our hopes and fears,
\nnever wonder about the future yield.<\/p>\n

(Never wonder, never wonder, this is real)<\/p>\n

I’ve been thinking about all we did,
\nmuch mistaken but anyway, since the kids
\nare now almost grown with the future in their own hands
\nwhat’s done is done – there’ll be no unmaking our half-baked plans.<\/p>\n

Here comes the gold watch, I’ll take the pension, I want the lifetime award;
\nall for the best, with the best of intentions, the children are their own reward….
\nSince the kids,
\nsince the kids,
\nsince the kids
\nmended the broken chord.<\/p>\n

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

At the dead of night, I woke
\nwith the sense that my dreams were escaping,
\nall uncannily unspoken
\nlike words at the tip of a foreign tongue….<\/p>\n

As for language, I have none
\nto express quite what strangeness overwhelms me:
\nsomething’s changed and something tells me
\nto be still in the roar of the distant stars.
\nThe night’s full of fire, ice and water;
\nby day I’ll have clay in my hands.<\/p>\n

The book is open at a well-thumbed mark
\nthe odds are stacked that I’m facing.
\nEyes grown accustomed to light and dark
\ncan’t catch the shadows they’re chasing.
\nOpen, my heart, to the vital spark –
\na disordered rhythm is racing,
\nit’s a danse macabre I’m tracing.<\/p>\n

As the fire feeds the flame,
\nas the tongue finds expression in its flickering,
\ndoes each breath inform a name
\nto be dispersed just as soon as it’s exhaled?
\nWas it to myself I came
\nor to some other strange and parallel existence?
\nWill I ever see tomorrow,
\nto wake and begin it again?<\/p>\n

Open, the book at a well-read page,
\nhope triumphs over expectation;
\nopen, the secrets of seer and sage
\nin awe-inspired anticipation….<\/p>\n

Open, my mind in the body’s cage,
\nunchained in consecration;
\nopen, my eyes, to the wider stage
\nthe firestorm of liberation –
\nthe night in conflagration.<\/p>\n

With a shiver down my spine
\nI come back to the place where I started;
\nthe sea of consciousness has parted
\nbut stranded is all that I feel for sure.
\nAs nightsight declines into darkness
\nby day there’ll be clay in my hands.
\nI may feel the clay in my hands.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nFallen (the City of Night)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Streets half-familiar that I once called home…
\nthe breath of phantoms now fogs the light;
\nthe skin I shuffled strangely outgrown.
\nFallen, the city of night<\/p>\n

Lost geographics of mortar and lime
\nformed the arena for fight or flight;
\nall’s buried under the leafstorm of time,
\nfallen in the city of night,
\nfallen the city of night.<\/p>\n

All of the fences overblown,
\nall of the gardens overgrown,
\nall of the towers overthrown;
\nall that I knew shall be over,
\nbecome unkown
\nin the city of night.<\/p>\n

I know that I’ve been here before,
\nI know that I’ve been here before,
\nbut that was in another lifetime.<\/p>\n

What once seemed blessed now feels accursed
\nwith words the spendthrift burned by candlelight
\nbut now this miser’s mouth is pursed:
\nfallen, the city of night.<\/p>\n

I know that I’ve been here before
\nbut that was in another lifetime.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nAlways is Next<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ill met, ill starred, the sweat, the scars,
\nthe back seat of the car, caught up in the sex,
\nthe ties that bind, his thoughts, her mind,
\nwhy something doesn’t connect…
\nthe rush, the drool, his push, her pull,
\nthe slushy gender pool, survive and protect.
\nIll met, the lips, the tongues that dart apart
\nfor whatever’s next.<\/p>\n

Well, now, what then, they count to ten and sense
\nthe current direct.
\nThis heat, this burn so sweet, they’ve learned
\nthis stuff will never turn out as they expect.
\nWell then, what now? Again they’ve found what somehow
\nstill resurrects:
\na fit, a freeze, a pretty please,
\ndrop down upon the knees and…whatever next<\/p>\n

Whatever’s next, what ever’s next.<\/p>\n

A clenching fist, a wrench, a twisted kiss
\nwill salvage this wreck.
\nThe steam, the windows stream and in
\nthe back seat of the car they never suspect –
\nout in the dark the Demiurge Avenger
\nauto-elect….
\nIll met, the gun is cocked. Though once
\nthey swore they’d be forever…always is next<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThe Light Continent<\/strong><\/p>\n

All the fields that you’ve overflown are frozen,
\nthey flow like glass down the frame in formlessness.
\nOnly the fragile fluttering of your heart still marks you chosen,
\nchosen to dare, your face defiant of the featureless.
\nYour face defies the featureless,
\nyou’re facing the featureless.<\/p>\n

A horizon of light blurs the boundaries of whiteness
\nas the distance is shimmered into timeless brightness now.<\/p>\n

And the slow flooding tide is begun as it’s ended –
\nthe barometer dropping and the fog descended
\ndown, down.<\/p>\n

In this endless day, at this hour long-appointed,
\nsubterranean humming and the compass unpointed,
\nthe compass disjointed, the compass down.<\/p>\n

Deep in the core the heart of ice forms,
\na tempo of life like that of stalagmites,
\na flood of the frozen,
\nthe flux of the blood
\naflame in antarctic white.<\/p>\n

Any marks that you made only scratched at the surface
\nonly retinal image ties you into the circuit now.<\/p>\n

In this empty expanse every shadow is shining
\nthe indifference of nature: your significance tiny now.
\nDive down.<\/p>\n

All the fields &c.<\/p>\n

Timeless the day, absorbing every wavelength of the light.
\nFrozen in place, our footfall on the ice.
\nWhat have our shadows meant
\nin the light continent?<\/p>\n

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

Unrehearsed Time for the unrehearsed entrance, show a leg you can break, down the cocktail while it’s laughing at you for heaven’s sake…. I can’t be your protector from these deliberate mistakes. Between the „can’t” and the „maybe” a lifetime’s … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":24,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-861","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/861","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=861"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/861\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":863,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/861\/revisions\/863"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/519"}],"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=861"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}