(wakeupwhatshappening)

Flick, scrape, Snap, flame. Lick this ivory tip and lets get it started. What do I want to say today. Take a moment and see how I'm feeling. A required break. A little peice of imaginary company. A vibrant field of stars dancing in front of wide open eyes. Reflections from another place, another way, another time. Somewhere far away people are dancing. In another hemisphere, in another country far from me someone is locked in embrace. I'm looking to tap that rythmn with keyboard strokes. Here alone in the middle of the night just reeling at the connections that seem to pass me by. Sometimes I feel like I'm sinking but its never that bad. We are only as lost as we want to be. Whatever bare degree that suits us best is where we ly, prostrate and beaming. Suck, drag, inhale, exhale. Fingers tapping out hip-hop beats, listening to Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros wondering what I want to do with my next free weekend. This seems to be as carefree as it gets but what the real point of bitching. I'd much rather give a tidbit of literary cubism. Something real in that surreal sense. This is good, I'm feeling this. Head nodding to the bass drum, foot tapping like I was in a club. I have this sensation I only get at night as the fly's break their necks against the hum of the outdoor lights. Everthing is rushing. It's all going on. This music only I can hear, a personalized playlist for midnight free form. I love it when it's quiet, watching nature unfold it's wings.
Some random traveler walks by I take out my earphone's and give him a cigerrette. He was asking before but I was still deaf. He asks me if I'm gonna vote tommorow and I say I am. He say's good and I agree. He light's up his smoke and hands his lighter back to me. Thanking me as if I was a wise man sitting by a desert oasis giving him water. I say it's cool, it's all good. It is cool and it is all good. He keep's walking and I go back to typing and listening to Joe. I'm hungry and tired but for some damn reason I'm grinning and I feel good.
There's always something unfolding, always something on the go.
I imagine two lover's fucking in a flat in Tokyo. They are making love, getting it on like the whole free world was gonna fall. I close my eyes and feel for the pulse on the wind tapping it out into words magic, echoing on my computer screen. Somewhere this is actually happening and it's just fucking beautiful. New Zeland or New York, lights blazing like blury eye'd party girls. Las Vegas or Thailand mist creeping aross the desert or up into the Jungle Hills. I've never been but I really want to go. I think I would like London at five thirty in the morning or summer time in downtown Montreal. I really would love eastern europe on a train bombing through the country side. I always wanted to fall in love with the open road. Sing on the streets of Paris with an acoustic guitar. What is stopping us from dreaming. Nothing but wallets and false defeats. I want to feel impulsive again. I feel like my standards are slipping like I'm getting old. I think I'll plot a murder and that dead man will be me. I'll split me in two with a rusty set of garden tool's and let the adventure in me take my place. This life isn't killing me it's me sitting here dying while I work and smoke and breathe. A saxaphone and a dub beat, swooning and snapping in my ear, I'm still grinning and listenig to the stars silent serenade. This life is a rock'n roll caberet, a multi-cultural smash up car race. The wind is picking up and the cool indian summer breeze is filling up my lungs. The flower beds are alive and plusing with worms and beetle's and spiders and toads. They dance to a rythmn thats new and alive. Listen close, I'm digging up that throttle and when I find the courage I'm gonna go. Theres music on the wind and it's singing me home. There's a beat rising in my heart and it's one that never stops it's just go.
There's always something happening, always something going on.
Finding that harmony on day at a time.