Friday, 8 December 2017

Dream On I Am

I was desperate to fly but with nowhere to go 
when in her back yard we decided to burn
a whole chunk of history. 
I was saying hello to future 
whilst living the past and holding on fast
to the faith
that we’ll be flowers side by side 
growing on the foggy boarder of our next life.
Before the realisation that one day this will all disappear,
I found myself
in an old folks home with nostalgia in my eyes.
It was the flowers that were next to their old names on the door
and on school coat pegs was the place I’d seen this before
where my name was spelt wrong on the sticker by my hood
and a daisy was etched boldly into the wood.

I’m writing to you from what was and what will never be again
Since the pages of history flew away into the trees. 
Missing old avenues. 
Rows of crows and childhood sunsets. 
Running, to the sky, to stay alive.
I always wanted to fly 
back then in that time.
When hiding places on the maps had a name,
like they were real people made out of stone and of shame.
A time when
it was worth getting up early at 6am.
And a pound coin felt like millions in your grubby little hand. 
And a lifetime tapes worth of radio songs was all that you had
Before being made love to became simply being fucked apart. 
And now the paintbrush won’t even paint from the heart. 

Well I'd love to sleep but this just seems to be 
the longest night of my life this week.
So I find myself
itching to get out of my skin,
to leap out from my eyes and grow again.
Grow my hair long, 
Thirst for dirt beneath my feet.
Taking strides on a map, and all those brick faces
to fill a place in me that’s still, like ancient places.
Far from lost-
and less about delay and more about wandering and I guess…
it’s far from believing time will fill all for me.
It’s more about believing the soul of atlas will just allow me to be.
I have a suitcase of dreams that wont unpack in one place
but brown eyes, I just cannot forget your face

I was told I should be worried about the state of the world,
cause it’s the only home we’ve ever known.
A pale blue dot 
Suspended in space 
but to remain naive is the most beautiful gift
that god ever gave;
shone down on me as I
Ran down Holmes Avenue full speed,
to the box buried deep under a willow tree
To the remains
of my first cigarette and my little milk teeth
and yeah il try to hide inside it again when I find the place.
And because you’re the biggest star that’s yet to grace my earths space, 
you  can come too and find your shelter in me. 
Cause its only your smile that I want to see.

I’m just looking for the face to run with at night
and even though I’ve seen that face very clear
it’s all yet to be dreamt up
somewhere in outer space.
To be sent through the doors of Gods head
hurling towards us-
-the pale blue dot we know as home, 
comes the soul that takes me back down that road,
where we find we turn but as singular cogs. 
Back to a place
where time is no more than an old mans thought.
It’s a place called Holmes Avenue where the grass is always long. 
And the only alarm you ever needed was the heating coming on.
And the church bells on the breeze will put you sweetly to sleep,

singing ‘Dream on I Am’ from your mountain peak.