ACT XXIV

Deaths Phone-call

Call me if you die.

The revved up memories of wars –
between the simplified eyes.

My telephone rings hello.
But, its clutching at meaningly rusty shadows.

Those revved up memories of wars –
compared to being between your thighs

– were nothing.

©HT

ACT XXIII

I
Places remain, where thoughts change.
But thoughts remain, in places all the same

Strange Days/Sombre Nights
How could I ever let you walk away?
With that smile cracked upon your face,
What a wonderful mistake.
So calm down and put your records on,
I want to, listen to strange days with you.
It’s my favourite band.

Cos all these strange days 
And sombre nights –
Wont lead you to your paradise.
So take a dip in the sea- 

So take a dip in the sea- 
Do you really feel free?
You best repeat after me.
Do you really free free?

III
I could of sworn I’d seen your face before.
The midnight cheater,
From the day-time taxi rank war,
And, though I try without any thought,
Revert my eyes,
I can’t keep my sights off the score.
At least I can’t see too straight anymore.

©HT

ACT XXII

Up North
Them closed doors might keep him out
But they won’t keep out your thoughts.

You watch the wild horses run
Past your windows and past your porch.

You can’t wait for the sun to come down
And, show the world what you once taught.

To the masses and, to the few
There is much more to life than war.

I’ve read it in the papers and I’ve seen the news
They get shy at just the thought.

Well if only you told me what you knew
We’d be long gone outta here, I’m pretty sure.

But as time bleeds away into one
Fortress of lost and pure.

I spend my remains nights
Following broken tracks up north.

©HT

ACT XXI

I
A fox going in and out of my feet,
the children on the street,
Dancing to their own beat,
I thought I knew what I was looking for
But maybe I don’t know, at least not anymore .

Those attached terrace houses,
The shady brick work,
You know the kind –
That might make you wanna move,
Move somewhere down south,
Where all the brick work is fine.

II
I knew our eyes felt something more than intimate from their brief encounter,
across the hazed floor. If I could only speak what I wanted.

I wouldn’t have to rely on that.

III
As I look upon these smudged canvas skies,
Watching them turn from azure blue to the welcoming monochrome,
I cant help but think; there has to to be something greater than –
The energy viaducts which suck the life from the earth –
The unlimited, ultimate TV and data packages.
Its hard to believe that people would rather stop to look at their phones –
then to look the world pass them by.
Trapped within their realm of fake reality – personal totalitarianism.

SIDE NOTE:
I have recently been quite busy. I am looking toward working with musicians and kick-starting my own solo poetry songwriting career, when I’ve finished my setlist. I’m currently focusing on my writing and poetry, though I’ve not much new work which I feel needs to be uploaded straight to my website. (as of the minute) Therefore taking a little break (with sporadic intervals of uploads) and will begin uploading work, when I have heard back from various poetry sites/magazines which, I have submitted work to. Hopefully, if all goes well, you will see the poetry I have sent in through their sites/magazines. IF NOT, I will be uploading them myself, as soon as I have results.

©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 XI

I have decided after a weeks worth of elongated thoughts (if one gets this unsocial job) to save up my earned profit and just travel the majority of the world by train and with my guitar in hand.
(After I buy an acoustic) Perform, write and meet people.
I’m very uninspired back home and no-doubt will remain uninspired as I long to be any place else. America would be somewhere I could happily live but due to the difficultly in grasping a career there I can only hope I bump into something on the road, as that place seems difficult.
I think it’s a great idea though. I’ve visited a few places before, and wouldn’t mind seeing most the world before I’m twenty-five. Defiantly be a great source of inspiration, for screenplays and music in general.

I
I had shaved my head, 
and I took upon yours,
I have travelled on tours,
and kept my lips shut,
I have lived in the shades, 
and ignored the war at gates.
The war between the people,
who don’t know love or hate.
I haven’t yet seen it all.

My hair has grown back,
my services done.
The war between two people,
still going on.
I can see through your lies,
see through your shame.
Just as I see through,
my windows panes.
I haven’t yet seen it all.

II
Airdropping acid for soldiers on the lines. 

Allowing them time to escape their minds.

Whilst the General hands them fines.

Fines, for pornographic photographs,

Of lovers on their shrines.

© HT

ACT IX

I haven’t slept a wink.
Instead, I’m greeted by the final movement of Beethoven’s most famous symphony performed by the birds outside my window for the bargain price of my own sanity.
How lucky must one be. I should have been visiting The rolling hills, The repeated fantasies, The filtered view, The border between Life & Death, The weakness, The Godlike, The backwards tongues, The endless echoing conversations and The ambient escapism of which one requires to be mentally equipped for the remaining hours of the following day.

I’ve decided to spent most of my day listening to Cream.
Alongside Coffee.