The Geranium Hotel Poems

I kind of miss my cigarettes Like I miss my youth I miss the ideas of dreams Like holding onto something I kind of miss watching records turn Like eating food in bed Like watching cartoons with no shirt on And I miss the idea of time I really miss you looking out for me Getting drunk and cooking eggs I miss the ideas of your art on my walls Like the scrawls of a likeable Warhol I miss being out in the trees Collecting their leaves and noticing patterns Watching the birds fly in their freedom I miss knowing that feeling I miss the wry wit of your sentences Your humour, flat and dry like a desert horizon I miss thinking one day you will sing for my band All those concerts I will never see, all that excitement I miss that moment when the lights go out That moment when you jump the border I miss the thrill of singing along I miss talking late into the night To all the old friends Who wont be here forever Like myself... I miss laughing with them and getting drunk

You wanna hear the music I can hear on the boundaries of my soul The symphonies of disaster, the snare drum of love awakening Millions of songs and billions of notes all playing simultaneously And they have got nowhere to be, nowhere to go Playing for just one listener who sees their colours, Playing just for me Each note shatters every thought of art and my eyes change colour Each note is so quiet that I can't perceive the theory of sound, the notion of vibration The music plays for my guilt, my innocence, my words of love and untapped hate I don't know how to listen without dying over and over I don't know how to listen without being reborn Where does one instrument stop and the other begin? Where does one note of brilliant shine start and the other fade and die? Will I die with it? Into silence away to the next Can I die with it? Fading away like the reflection of stars on water Will it echo on forever, like a burning star, like a great driving wind?

You can smell the lime trees Hidden amongst the jungle vines Where the river's water flowers Where the birds are fortunate And they fly Back and forth You can kick the dust Or sit in the sand Like an Egyptian Sphinx Riddling this, Riddling that Escaping the daily cares Back and forth You can see the sea Through the citrus grove Past that brick wall And the colours are open to the dreams You visit Back and forth The smells are strong As you sit there The colours are bright And free, never lost Such a triumph of life Back and forth Those trees, so bored and lonely Jealous of those birds coming and going Watching as the flowers bloom As the vine's tendril curls with every rain Yet the tree is the land mark As we come and go Back and Forth Back and Forth