Well. Still here – laughing. Joking – singing – swinging monkey-like across the abysses that litter, pepper my silly paths every inch of the way.
Wow – dynamite in the midst of the evening! – hell-boy – running scared – no useful heart-breaker – donkey weaver – asiatic muddy-faced hypnotist – aching through the night – whimsical podcaster balanced on the edge of a knife-blade – hypnotist, undisciplined, crawfish spectacle wearer, heart-breaker maker of sun-moonbeams, unclaimed, unashamed, unalone, not at home. “Stick to the rules”, says Lucky Jim, his socks caved in, his unashamed optimism roaring down the road.
SPARK OF LIFE
words and music by Tony Chapman © April1999
Em Em+7 Cm Bm
when the road is broken and the path is bent
when words that are spoken don’t say what they meant
when a rabbit is caught by the innocent eagle’s claw
CHORUS its the spark of life that’s what we’ve gotta reach for (is still there, to reach for)
reach for the spark of life, that’s what its there for
when winter comes in and the leaves are dying
when blizzards sting and your soul is crying
when your father gives up, and your mother lies (busted, broken) on the floor CHORUS
when for the state a million lives are extinguished
when humanity hates, consumed by a death wish
when a child runs screaming, napalm burning her raw CHORUS
when the truth is told, about our planet Gia
how it doesn’t hold humanity (any) higher
than anything else, if we threaten it, it’ll kick us out the door CHORUS
when you hide beneath the covers, from the screaming crowd
and you find in book or lovers, the screaming ‘s (just) as loud
no sleep offered, no escape, head aches, eyes are sore CHORUS
you gaze at (the) empty sky
an ocean grey and lifeless
one seagulls cry, your childless and your wifeless
(you) look at your feet, empty bottles all along the shore CHORUS
from baby at breast to withered zombie
from birth to death, (its all/life) its all just a black comedy
if there is a God tell him to stuff his joke you’re not in it anymore CHORUS
when you work for years, give your best to duty
repress the tears, sacrifice the beauty
then realize nobody kept the score CHORUS
now you’re growing old, all the times you wasted
if only you’d been told, if only you had faced it
you can fight it but you can’t re-write the universal law CHORUS
It is the morning of the time of all catapult specials, where all dawns meet and treat the soil with disdain. How many circumference navigators have silver lined their marathon pockets with collosal extraveganzers and hiccuping gladiators, riptided and glacier swollen, a pendulum in one hand, an hourglass in the other, hopelessly entwined, wrapped around, ivy-Iike, hidden in shoes and crysalists, smoothing out their talkers worldless tongues?
i started doing this blog spontaneously … that was what was so nice about it … l sat in a Hema cafe by the sea and just wrote. Then people responded and I got a bit self-conscious and started pasting in old writings I could check over. Also l so rarely have the time these days to write spontaneously .. l’m so often teaching guitar and piano and art and doing all the admin that belongs to it.
well that was my s
urreal, dreamlike entry for the day.
Do you like it?
waiting in the … now I Know people are reading these blogs I’m less spontaneous.
Who am I?: just off centre, always – never quite where I should be: Rhapsopy in Green, Santa Claus ìn the Summer, Monday morning hooker, happy blues singer – I obliterate the sun with my shadow – to make it bigtime?: use opposites – thats the secrety