***
Eleven years ago I was excited about the release of three new rock albums
Eleven years ago I played an old acoustic guitar all morning long
Eleven years ago I was already bore with the USA & immigration issues
Eleven years ago I fancied living in a kingdom with a rock’n’roller Prime Minister
Eleven years ago I got fooled by Britpop & Cool Britannia —d’you know what I mean?
Eleven years ago I was slightly appalled by rumors of worldwide unemployment
Eleven years ago I wrote a song a day —sometimes about my fear of the dirty jobs
Eleven years ago I read Göethe in Spanish mistranslations
Eleven years ago I kissed a girl & felt a burning fire going down my spine
Eleven years ago I smoke a cigarette for the first time
Eleven years ago I skipped school once & became a flâneur without realizing it
***
Ten years ago I watched sunrise every morning from an orange train window
Ten years ago I believed in God
Ten years ago I was sure my soul was a mystical machinegun
Ten years ago I thought democracy was for real & God-deviced
Ten years ago I felt alienated as I realized that Catholicism is not something alien here
Ten years ago I was disappointed as grunge went out of touch & MTV went too teen-pop
Ten years ago I became geeky-but-cool for the first time
Ten years ago I got high & met Major Tom in his tin can floating above the world
Ten years ago my political awareness was a joke
Ten years ago I read Borges & wrote a poem instead of a song
***
Nine years ago I was too indie when everybody was too ska
Nine years ago I hanged around with the freaks & ghouls
Nine years ago I used to buy the NME with a weekly overseas delay
Nine years ago I heard tunes that chilled my bones & put a flame between my ears
Nine years ago I spent a season like hell at artificial paradises
Nine years ago I kissed a girl holding a Bible against her breast
Nine years ago I pushed the Bible away & went to an illegal rave
Nine years ago I told my mother I left an important part of my brain somewhere in a field
Nine years ago radio waves & internet wires gave me choice so I was a God in my world
***
Eight years ago I was sixteen clumsy & shy
Eight years ago the end of a century was nothing special so I sang along
Eight years ago I went to a gig & got mad for it
Eight years ago I told a girl it looked like we might had made it too the end
Eight years ago presidential elections & fingered V’s made me afraid of the papist right-wind
Eight years ago I got drunk one day & next morning the PRI was dead
Eight years ago I started a foolish brawl out of a foolish argument on Nietzsche & Schopenhauer
Eight years ago I left school & my mother found my weed-baggie & I was doomed
***
Seven years ago I was driftwood breaking into pieces
Seven years ago I lost all my friends & couldn’t get out of bed
Seven years ago I became an idle reader as my easy life was crumbling down
Seven years ago the morning bell was a handful of plane-crashes in the American summer sky
Seven years ago I needed an Orwellian experience serving standardized burgers
Seven years ago I told myself I don’t need to be forgiven
Seven years ago I found the right key to play the songs that saved my life
***
Six years ago I tasted the salty bread of foreignness without crossing any borderline at all
Six years ago I dragged my spleen uphill once again in a Sisyphean fashion
Six years ago I read atheist books in front of a priest
Six years ago I played guitar at the schoolgates to shake my angst
Six years ago I was already waving words born of frustration
Six years ago I was the albatross with giant wings but unable to fly
***
Five years ago I faced the mirror & refused to drawn
Five years ago I was just 19 with six months off to save my life or six months off to die
Five years ago I took an unforgettable walk through certain half-deserted streets
Five years ago I gave a lecture on rock & kissed a Japgirl on the same evening
Five years ago I found advice in solitude & silence
***
Four years ago I crossed thresholds & tests of passage
Four years ago I had power over each breath & heartbeat & each clock-ticking in my life
Four years ago I rejected a living made of lies & language destruction
Four years ago I could look back out of anger
***
Three years ago I deceived myself in sex-lust & mind-lust
Three years ago I had friends that now are strangers
Three years ago I was guilt for dreaming
***
Two years ago I sold the ink-soul of my pen & dried up my heart
Two years ago I heard two calls —one to stop believing in votes & another to keep believing in words
***
One year ago I was trying to figure out the puzzle that’s my life now & tried to burn away the immediate past
***
I’m not a blankpage anymore
I’m a skin splattered with scabs & stories carved all along each blot of drying blood
There’s nothing to erase but just too much of my tale to tell
________________________________________________
This poem was written within 6 hours time —without stopping to write unless extremely necessary.
Four years ago I had power over each breath & heartbeat & each clock-ticking in my life
Four years ago I rejected a living made of lies & language destruction
Four years ago I could look back out of anger
***
Three years ago I deceived myself in sex-lust & mind-lust
Three years ago I had friends that now are strangers
Three years ago I was guilt for dreaming
***
Two years ago I sold the ink-soul of my pen & dried up my heart
Two years ago I heard two calls —one to stop believing in votes & another to keep believing in words
***
One year ago I was trying to figure out the puzzle that’s my life now & tried to burn away the immediate past
***
I’m not a blankpage anymore
I’m a skin splattered with scabs & stories carved all along each blot of drying blood
There’s nothing to erase but just too much of my tale to tell
________________________________________________
This poem was written within 6 hours time —without stopping to write unless extremely necessary.
I don't know if it is related at all, but I think watching this video could fit the mood once you have read the above poem.
The Verve- History
[the song borrows a lot of Blake's "London"
but as I may have borrow a lot from both
[the song borrows a lot of Blake's "London"
but as I may have borrow a lot from both
The Verve & Blake at some point
—not necessarily here—
I guess it shouldn't cause any fuss at all]
I've got to tell you my tale
Of how I loved and how I failed
I hope you understand
These feelings should not be in the man...
Of how I loved and how I failed
I hope you understand
These feelings should not be in the man...
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