Music.

Scars. Fran Landesman from my CD called Mother -produced by Ian Shaw. & a poem below. ‘Should I stay?’ and some writing below, poems & thoughts.

Photo on track- My half sister & me on right, in Lewisham 1950
From My CD Mother. A Song written by Fran Landesman and Simon Wallace

‘KEEP OUT – STOP’

You are past it, already irrelevant? Not necessary…. too old to be allowed to dig deep and proclaim? Tell me, I don’t know. I know that when you are still alive and have a tick – tocking mind which will not cease, a dripping tap – this that and the other. Why Bother? Because I must – before my mind is a pile of ash- before body is a pile of dust. On with the slippers and lie prone on the sofa… sucking up a screen.

That is not for me….

My brain will not stop. Will not bloody stop. Who made the rules?

Photo Sheila Burnette 1988? Carol Grimes.

Should I stay? 

or

Should I go?

I don’t know.

Hat on- Hat off – Hat on- Hat off?

Should I go?

On off off on off off off on off on, on, on and –

bloody on. 

I don’t know.

Do you want me?

Do you? 

Do you really mean it?

Do you? Say something.

Anything.

Talk to me.

Shall I stay or shall I go?

Oh.

I don’t know?

I will leave my hat on my head- and stand by the door.

I will look as though I am here, but I am not here-

not really here.

I am in between and unseen, ready in waiting-

waiting to disappear? I am a simply a blip in time.

Blink. See-you don’t see- you don’t see me.

So tell me. Do you want me? Do you? 

I am poised for flight, lickety-split.

I quit.

I was not in this place.

I was not here. 

Near, but not here. So do not worry –

I will hurry-

scurry -until –

I am out of your eye and not in your heart. 

I depart – with no backward glance-

no chance of reproval

no looks of disdain-

I remain –

a mere flicker on the edge of your life.

A discarded match. 

Puff, gone.

I slide out of sight, a slither,

a whisper-

a sigh late at night.

Tell me-why do you not see me?

Do you not own one eye to see me with?

Hat on?  

Hat off?  

Hat on?

Gone.

How do you deal with your creativity, still flowing and your need to create is as strong as ever it was and others have you pegged as old and in the way? Is being old a sign? A sign saying, kick me when I’m down? Why don’t cha? I am in despair.

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