The gospel according to…

I
My life is measured
By my ever increasing list of all time favourite songs
Playing seemingly at random
But always at a time i need to hear them most.
II
I still prefer sunrise to sunset
The potential rather than the regret
III
Some moments of quiet joy
Tempered by the many who have let me down
As they let themselves down
Choosing transaction over desire
Mainstream over daring
Staying quiet when they should have spoken out
And worst of all
They let others tell them
In a million unsubtle ways
That they were just OK, nothing special
No longer dreaming, rather just accepting
I let them go
IV
It was always about the art. The What If rather than the sale
V
The best books i have read were experienced in waiting rooms
The backseat of hot cars going nowhere
Islands
Desolate highway off ramps,
Books were the calm centre of a group of people
Debating unimportant subjects at ever increasing volume
(I was being anti-social)
I read the best books ever
While sitting at many kitchen tables
Sometimes to the sounds of relatives and friends cooking
Sometimes just the early morning silence,
Sometimes deep late night, when the fridge stuttered quiet breathing
And the woman in the next room slept
And time took its sweet time to crawl onto, into 3 am
VI
And sometimes I am defined by what I am not
VII
I saw this picture of someone’s living room
Full of very old… things
It felt like a restored tacky museum piece
I think they were going for early American bachelor slave-owner chic
The paintings had lighting restlessly placed
The only item missing was a long dead granny being eaten by her cats
And i thought, ”Fuck I love my mess”
VIII
Give me a chance to walk for-ever
Hanging onto a cool-drink that is bad for me
Give me good conversation with a few true friends
And keep throwing words
And images
And creative mischief my way
And i shall survive