{"id":869,"date":"2013-04-20T22:57:13","date_gmt":"2013-04-20T20:57:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=869"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:28:04","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:28:04","slug":"26-what-now","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/26-what-now\/","title":{"rendered":"26. What, Now?"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nHere Come the Talkies<\/strong><\/p>\n

Hair in the gate, let’s take a minute
\nto find out where this character’s lost his way…
\nunless I’m much mistaken I’m at the limit
\nof what I can and can’t say.<\/p>\n

Something untoward seems to be occurring,
\nthe best that I can do is play along
\nfor much as I deplore it the camera’s still turning…
\nyou don’t have to be bad to be in the wrong,
\nyou don’t have to be bad to get it all wrong.<\/p>\n

Fighting the light,
\nthere’s not much time…
\nWhat future bright is mine?<\/p>\n

In the course of that scene you looked right through me,
\nthough I was holding your attention as best I could.
\nI feel I’m dropping down the credits of my own movie….
\nEven when you’re in the right you could be gone for good;
\ntake a look at these shoes where the understudy stood.<\/p>\n

Fighting the light,
\nthere’s not much time…
\nWhat future bright is mine?<\/p>\n

With uncertainty as a constant companion
\nyeah you’ll never be alone if you’re open to your own self-doubt…
\nbetter let it out.<\/p>\n

This is no time for you to stutter in dismay
\nas frame by frame all your references unlock;
\nwired up as anything, the future’s on its way
\nlike electricity, you judder with the shock.
\nYou judder with the shock,
\nuntil you’re utterly unblocked;
\nyeh, you judder with the shock.<\/p>\n

Time to get a grip, we’re all mummers in a freak show,
\ncome on, read my lips and then maybe you’ll acquire a different taste.
\nTake another tip, find a method in the madness…
\nwhen everything is stripped I see no fortune in your face.
\nOh, look out!<\/p>\n

Walking on the coals your star was never brighter,
\ngood as solid gold, but that standard’s not so relevant today –
\ntypecast in the role, is your strength all in your silence?<\/p>\n

Here come the talkies – what’s that you say?<\/p>\n

Fashion what you make from the clay of your experience;
\nyou might deserve a break but the longer you go on the less it’s fair;
\nyou be sure to claim your stake, but the ground below you’s shifted.
\nJust like Rudy as the Sheikh do you feel there’s something alien in the air?<\/p>\n

Here come the talkies,
\nobsolescence guaranteed;
\nhere come the talkies, don’t you see?<\/p>\n

And you never thought you’d feel so absurd,
\nbut now you’re fluffing your famous last words….<\/p>\n

Thank you and goodnight.<\/p>\n

Fighting the light,
\nthere’s always time
\nto stand and fight your decline…<\/p>\n

Hair in the gate,
\nthat Klieg light, dim it.
\nLet’s find out how this character acts at bay:
\nIf he’s strong in his belief there’ll be no limit
\nto what he can and can’t say,
\nto what he can and can’t….<\/p>\n

Fighting the light,
\nin tune with time…
\nwhat future bright will be mine?<\/p>\n

Will, be mine.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nFar-flung (across the sky)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Alone beneath a foreign sky I wonder
\ncould I be any further flung than this?
\nAgainst the winds which cast me to this distant shoreline
\nI can still blow a kiss
\nto fly off in migration, heading homeward
\nwith all my thoughts upon the wing to you.
\nThough all our dreams and wishes seem so distant
\nthis much we can always do….<\/p>\n

If we just raise our eyes
\nwe’ll share the sky.<\/p>\n

The evening sun upon my cheeks already
\nthe glimmer of a dawn approaching you;
\nacross the curvature of earth
\ninvisible connections bind us true.<\/p>\n

If we just close our eyes
\nwe’ll be together in a little time…
\nif we just raise our eyes
\nwe’ll share the sky.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThe American Girl<\/strong><\/p>\n

She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep
\nfor if she slept then she would dream about this:
\na place where she’d be treated with respect and sympathy.
\nThe American girl
\nset her sights on the old world,
\nthinking in the old world she’d find honesty.<\/p>\n

And so she blew in like a breath of fresh air,
\ncaptivating all around her;
\nand as she passed she left a trail of heartbreak in her wake.
\nThe American girl
\ncut her teeth on the old world,
\nall at once the old world hers upon a plate
\nand fascinated by her face
\nthe old world sealed her fate.<\/p>\n

She felt she’d come home across the sea,
\nthis was where she was meant to be.<\/p>\n

She didn’t understand the potency of envy
\nso ingrained in the culture
\nand soon she found contempt had grown from her familiarity.
\nShe doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep,
\nshe lies awake and wonders how this happened.
\nThe American girl
\nstubbed her toe on the old world
\nand the old world’s unforgiving rigidity.<\/p>\n

Well times got hard
\nand talk came cheap;
\nshe found that finally
\nsomething wasn’t right across the sea…
\nnow she’s stateless in all but her memory.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nWendy and the Lost Boy<\/strong><\/p>\n

Dear Wendy, I still believe the promises
\nwe swore upon when we were magic.
\nThis came to me as in a dream:
\nmy heart was in your hands.
\nWendy, do you believe in promises?
\nThe problem is the boy became a man.<\/p>\n

Wendy – mother, child, lover – everything
\nyou meant to me lives on in memory;
\nto think of how we broke each other’s hearts
\nis more than I can stand.
\nWendy, were we in love eternally
\nor were we just in never-never land?<\/p>\n

Sometimes the boy denies the man,
\nsometimes the boy defies the man,
\nflying in the shade of Peter Pan….<\/p>\n

Oh, Wendy, maybe you still remember this:
\na touch, a kiss that lasts forever…
\nbut time and tide rush in conspiracy:
\nall love is damned.
\nWendy, I still believe the promise is
\nthe boy’s alive,
\nthe boy is in the man.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nLunatic in Knots<\/strong><\/p>\n

Unchain me from this lunatic
\nbefore he drags me to my knees;
\nI’d have to be some kind of Houdini
\nto unpick knots like these.<\/p>\n

While I was sleeping half a lifetime away
\nsomeone moved the scenery,
\nall my blocks went astray.
\nSo I awoke uneasy
\nand, as I spoke, grew queasy….<\/p>\n

I don’t remember much about last night
\nbut I suspect I went too far,
\nbecame just a passenger in my actions,
\nasleep at the wheel of the car.<\/p>\n

While I was sleeping someone stole in my room,
\nrearranged the pictures
\nand threw my bookmarks away.
\nThe shadow’s swiftly deepening
\nin the tidepull of the moon
\nwhile the lunatic
\ndoes his party tricks
\nbut what makes him tick
\nhe’s still most reluctant to say.<\/p>\n

Before the facts there’s no pat explanation…
\nonly this Other implies
\nwhatever I did was Not I.<\/p>\n

While I was sleeping
\noff the wake of the wake
\nI was less at home in my dreams than in my mistakes.
\nThe lunatic’s been creeping
\nsettling and setting on my face
\nand we’re bound together
\nwe’re tied and tethered
\nI don’t know whether
\nthe bond is one I can break.<\/p>\n

After the act there’s no hidden intention,
\njust fumbling around for the plot,
\ntying myself up tighter and tighter in knots.<\/p>\n

So many angels,
\nhowever many can there by, ghosts and djinns
\ndancing on the head of a pin?
\nHow many questions are left unresolved?
\nExactly where do I begin
\nnow that the walls are closing in?
\nWho’s the lunatic
\nand who’s the sensible soul deep within the skin,
\nhanging on and listening in…?<\/p>\n

Unchain me from this lunatic
\nrestrain him in his cage
\nkeep him away from me
\nkeep him away from the stage.<\/p>\n

Unchain me from this lunatic
\nwhose every action shouts me down;
\nkeep him away from me,
\nkeep me away from this clown.<\/p>\n

Unchain me from this lunatic
\nrestrain him in his cage
\nkeep him away from me
\nkeep him away from me
\nkeep me away from his rage<\/p>\n

While I was sleeping
\nthe lunatic stirred.
\nI’ve no alibi
\nfor his beady eye.
\nOh, I talk my head off…
\nhe’s a man of few words.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nEdge of the Road<\/strong><\/p>\n

The lady was in waiting
\nfor whatever story might unfold
\nanticipating that somehow base metal would turn into gold
\nyeh, she was always looking for a brighter spot,
\neager to tap into the motherlode
\nat the edge of the road.<\/p>\n

A world of separation,
\ntreasuring each pleasure and each pain
\ndistance is arching between them,
\na rainbow, no gold in the frame
\nuntil the boy with a smile like forget-me-nots
\nwill finally come in from the rain.
\nBut he’s out there still:
\nin the hourglass a sandstorm has stripped his sails,
\nonly wanting to fill up his pockets
\nwith the dust of all the bygone trails.
\nSomeday he’ll make his way home.
\nBut will the man of the moment finally make himself known
\nand lay down his load
\nat the edge of the road?<\/p>\n

The woman was in waiting
\nless in expectation than in hope;
\nmaybe he’d come to his senses in a little while
\nif she just paid out plaits of flaxen rope.
\nBut he never will,
\nin his heart there’s the murmur of an alien disease,
\nwaking up to the chill of the knowledge
\nthat his travel’s brought him to his knees.
\nNowhere is safe from all harm;
\nso will the man of her memory fall finally into her arms
\n(will the man of her memory be charmed?)
\nbefore he explodes
\nat the edge of the road?<\/p>\n

All is suddenly abandon,
\nall his planned accommodation failed,
\nall his actions and reactions are random,
\nhot on the scent of a stone-cold trail.
\nAnd though she burns a candle to his memory
\nall of her patience was bound to fail
\nfor he’s out there still
\nwith a thousand-mile stare falling on his face,
\nchasing after a thrill
\nthat’ll take him out beyond all sense of time and place.
\nHead on into the unknown,
\nhere’s the man chasing mystery finally missing his own.
\nBut that’s how it goes
\nat the edge of the road.
\nThere’s a cutting edge to the road
\nat the end of the road,
\nat the edge of the road.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nFed to the Wolves<\/strong><\/p>\n

And they said „They shall all be fed,
\nall the weak and powerless shall be comforted….”.
\nThe Church’s arms are open to embrace its orphans
\nbut this unholy priest’s an earthly sod
\nwith his cock thrust casually through his vestments
\nbehind the screen of the confessional.<\/p>\n

Father’s fumbling in the vestry,
\nlip-service to the sermon even while his fingers fiddle;
\nblind-eyed nuns ignore the soiled habits….
\nFor the innocents there’s no escape –
\nwhat hell on earth (in the name of Christ) was this they’d entered?
\nOh, they said „They shall be fed”
\nand meant that this young flesh
\nshould be devoured.
\nThe lambs were to be led
\nto be fed to the wolves,
\nfed to the wolves.<\/p>\n

(They should be safe in God’s House.
\nDoes it get any worse than this?
\nThe children are in their power
\nand power is naked.<\/p>\n

They should be safe in God’s House
\nbut here’s no mercy, just abuse.
\nAnd the damage that is done
\nis worse than unholy.)<\/p>\n

They said „They shall be fed”
\nbut they’re abused rather than comforted
\nby the very ones who pose as their protectors
\nand to complain would only bring a beating down upon their backs
\nfor their own imagined wickedness.
\nNo escape from such unholy earthly powers:
\nthe lambs shall be devoured,
\nthe lambs shall all be fed to the wolves.
\nThey shall be fed to the wolves.<\/p>\n

Pray for the prey,
\nfed to the wolves.<\/p>\n

(And the damage that is done
\nis worse than unholy.)<\/p>\n

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

To live, to be alive and to consider
\nthe plane that shapes the smooth out of the rough…
\nwhen every expectation is delivered
\nwill that be enough?
\nThis alone will have to be enough.<\/p>\n

Not that but this,
\nnot why but how,
\nnot if but when,
\nnot soon but now.<\/p>\n

To wait, to be elated and awoken…
\nwhen every love’s less tender than it’s tough
\nand all the flood defence is finally broken
\nwill this be enough?
\nThis alone will never be enough.<\/p>\n

Not that but this,
\nnot why but how,
\nnot if but when,
\nnot soon but now.<\/p>\n

Not that, not this.
\nOh, why? Oh, how?
\nWhat if, what then?
\nNot soon, not now.<\/p>\n

Not that, not this.
\nBut why, but how?
\nWhat if, what then?
\nToo soon, not now.<\/p>\n

So soon…what now?<\/p>\n

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

Here Come the Talkies Hair in the gate, let’s take a minute to find out where this character’s lost his way… unless I’m much mistaken I’m at the limit of what I can and can’t say. Something untoward seems to … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":26,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-869","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/869","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=869"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/869\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":871,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/869\/revisions\/871"}],"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=869"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}