ACT XX

AGENT ORANGE
Corrupted the crops.
Crops were picked – The destroyed lot.

AGENT ORANGE
One mother of nasty bliss.
But the real ‘Bliss’ didn’t reach those kids.

AGENT ORANGE
They’ll never be a stop.

AGENT ORANGE
At one click – they drop.

Dispense and dissolve particles of life.

The children, they suffer and cry throughout their nights.

AGENT ORANGE
In which we cannot plus.
Donald Trump, George Bush, The Clintons which the uneducated trust.
Three and three equals seven in a world so corrupt.

I wrote this a few years ago whilst I was walking around War Remnants Museum in (Saigon) Ho Chi Minh City I was viewing as much of the photographs and videos as I could bear – most of which spoke of Agent Orange and it made me think about life and how nothing truly changes other than that the violence increases. Power hungry, false idols yet now the news wouldn’t report the truth. Just look at Julian Assange, he exposed two US Army soldiers for murdering innocents and he’s the criminal. The truth should always be exposed and not hidden away and ignored.




ACT XIX

It’s one of those I guess. Another sleepless night, adding into my endless tally chart of sleepless nights. I should begin a review channel and compare each night in terms of productivity or brought on depression from exhaustion which they’d all score pretty high so you’d be indulging in a few repeats.

Either-way. I’ve stared at my Stratocaster many nights in a row now. Unable to pick it up (ignoring today) due to being unmotivated. What a goddamn curse for somebody like myself.
Ones mind has drawn a blank. Hilarious in a sense. Maybe it’s due to some well needed rest or complete and utter incompetence and laziness.

I fancy a goddamn beer but I best neck a few glasses of water.

“in other news” (as heard by the cheesiest male news-anchor voice in my head)
I have acquired a new job – nothing fancy. The ye olde reacquiring role of a bartender who is in way over his head due to his lack of cocktail ability. Can life be any easier for me to complain at.

Quite Possibly.

ACT XVIII

My nightmares are haunted by your beauty.
I lay awake well past the early hours,
I am surrounded by your whispers of my name.

An echo of a memory on repeat.

An echo of a never ending fantasy.

But an echo which day-to-day grows closer to fading away.

I can smell you on my sheets.
Though they’ve been cleaned one thousand times since you left.
I can recall you in my mind.
I can feel your warmth by my side.
And I can see your smile.

Though I don’t discard the truth.

The truth as to why I deserved to lose.

I just hope I never lose these real thoughts that I have of you.

© HT

ACT XVII

Still Love

I’ve spent many nights away from her
I have tarnished all my thoughts.
We asked for the revolution. 
But, we were left with the war.
We looked in one another’s eyes –

and, the love still roared.

I picture you beside me still,
though I try to hide the proof.
You enquired about religion,
when I asked for the truth.
Then we fell – sat upon these floors
And I was still much surer then –

That the love of ours still roared.

© HT

ACT XVI

I really need someone, 
to watch the Azura nights
and the darkened gaze,
to stop the world from falling into those on coming waves.

I really need someone
to think about on my lonesome days,
someone to love,
When truth is found to live freely our own way.

Someone to hang on 
when my thoughts are heavy
and my legs aren’t too strong,
to kiss beneath linen sheets where most men were wrong.

I need someone 
to break my chains
and free me to follow on
to love and to be loved, to hide as if loving you were wrong.

I think about you now and then
but I don’t know your name,
you’re always inside my head
keeping me up in the endless howling rain.

If I could ask for why you smile 
Would you smile at me again?
Would you hand me down your dress
and save me from my pain?

For I know i loved you.
As soon as I saw your face.

I really need someone like you.

© HT

ACT XV

I
Waiting for the alarm clock,
To wake me from a sleepless night.
Untouched gravel outside,
Awaiting the restless feet of the passerby.
Where are you – when I’m waiting?

II
I don’t know who I am –
I don’t know what I am for
But these unknown pleasures –
these unknown thoughts want more.
And I’m not too sure –
I’m what they’re looking for.

My windowsill is black –
My life could just be a gas –
All I see –
And All I do don’t satisfy.
Are these thoughts I’m feeling –
Part of I.

The echo voices are near –
From somewhere close to here
But these unknown pleasures –
These unknown thoughts they aren’t mine.
And I’m not too sure –
What keeps me up at night.

Unknown pleasures,
This unknown world,
Those unknown thoughts –
Which nobody knows.
These unknown pleasure,
These unknown thoughts are mine.

III
We shared a kiss upon 
A slip stream of bliss.
I’m sure everybody’s heard of this 
You caught me in-between all your wit.

You got me so high
How’d you expect me to climb back down.
I’m sure I am able to cope
Without you your soul around.

In that back catalogue
Of this sunny afternoon.
I’m having to get lit
To remain in the mood.

And, Isn’t it funny what we’ll do
Just to bite one another lips.
To the sound of somebody else’s tune.

© HT

ACT XIV

Thinking back to my First Night in Bangkok:“You’ve not had a night out in Bangkok?” I was asked with infectious enthusiasm. “It’s my first and my only night here.” I was immediately led out of the hotel bar into the brisk rain. The multi-coloured high-rises were surrounding and the unwelcoming wet season was definitely upon us. The rain was dedicating its time, attempting to ruining our evening. We ventured down into the flooding underground footpaths to reach the other side of the road. The metal detectors were ringing out this constant low vibrato hum. I pointed straight to the detector, telling my friend sarcastically “Going through that, in this weather would more than likely kill us.” I wasn’t in the business of electronics nor qualified as an electrician. Though we were enticed to go through by the lone guard, whose feet were drenched. No doubt experiencing the first base of the dreaded Trench-Foot. 

After passing through, pointlessly emptying the reservoirs from our pockets – we made it to the other stairs which led back above ground. The stairs, gushing with a constant unlimited supply of water. Still, not deterring us from a night out in Bangkok we followed up the stairs and we flagged down the nearest Tuk-Tuk and jumped aboard. The equivalent of a supermarket trolley just with bigger wheels and an engine and a five star insured professional quality driver. At this point I hadn’t any idea where I was being taken – I just trusted in my friend taking me – but here we were being toured around Bangkok, in the rain, flung around this modified trolley like a dogs first car journey. Quickly arriving at our destination, passing the brightest lights, the tightest streets, the craziest smells, the people still going about their day-to-day as if the rain and the night had not existed or the endless supply of tourists. It was beautiful from what I could gather. 

We arrived at Khao San Road (I believe). Bar after bar, after bar. – salesmen selling food to the interested drunken tourists even though the streets were flooded and most of the people were sheltering from the insides of whichever bar they decided to take refuge within from the ever heavier rain. I was quickly handed a large bottle of beer either a Chang or a Leo Super. Half-way through my first beer I was already being chatted up by a lady-boy but I wasn’t in the mood to be bangkoking on my only night out in Bangkok. I spend the rest of my time with my friend looking at the building in awe of where I really was. It was insane and suddenly out of nowhere people took to the streets. Dancing in the rain, Gene Kelly wouldn’t of been singing – I tell thee.
Aside from that, I’m not too sure what happened after that other than Ashley got me home in one piece but I do remember returning to the hotel – I was sharing with this guy. He was slightly younger than myself and he spoke to me previously about needing his sleep. Well what a way to properly introduce myself banging on the door as gently as a pissed Englishman could.

ACT XIII

I
These four walls –
Spell loneliness but speak freedom.
The gates are open –
But this door doesn’t lead to Eden.
The fucking apple was eaten –
The fucking apple was eaten –
The apple is the core of all this freedom but
no one will tell you, that selfish attitude –
was something we were all needing.
Its easy to point your finger at something –
Which you don’t believe in.
And its hard to get over someone –
You never thought was leaving.
But these four walls spell loneliness 
But speak freedom.

II
The bridge of thorns.
The one I walk across to reach your crown.
I can handle your thoughts –
Can you handle mine?

III
We are an unnatural selection,

We can try and create excuses.

But, we naturally selected – one another

– to join our unnatural lives,

in hope of a natural feeling.

IV
You know I’m a fool for you.

I fell in love with you before I understood.

© HT

ACT XII

I
I might of skipped the part when you said you loved me
Jumping in and out of all the those jokes
I always try to think about you nicely,
But, I haven’t any thoughts of you with clothes.
You told me it would be forever
I told you, it’s the way it goes
Don’t try and think of me tonight girl
Cos in them thoughts you’ll be all alone.

II
There was an old Elvis impersonator,
who barely fit the clothes,
the lenses of his shades broken,
and his voice not the proper tone.

There was a couple who were to be married,
but hadn’t spoke a word,
eyes facing opposite sides,
neither where they preferred. 

I thought about you in the candlelight,
as the sun eclipsed my moon,
I waltz all through the night,
even on my own.

You made me more than happy,
catching kisses you had blown,
as I see the world from sidelines,
From our cement brick home.

© HT