RUBBISH BEARDED MAN (RBM)
Some words first written probably in 2007, about five years into seven year relationship:
During the week:
My babe says the right things when I’ve got the blues, picks me up straight away and unties the knot in my noose. You see now I can get up early in the morning without my finger on the snooze. Everything to win and nothing to lose but still I’m feeling slightly lost and confused.
Forever attempting to lay my soul on the line by using lots of different words, fancy words, to express my decline. I’m so turned on like the moon and the stars in the northern sky. So out of tune, reduced to a low pitched whine: “I need someone, o’ I need someone to help me toe the line.”
My life these days it stirs and flows at rapid speed, most ‘negative’ thoughts dissolve, but I’m still consumed by greed. They say “life is an open book”, but I’ve forgotten how to read. On my baby’s sanity I continue to feed. When will my imprisoned goodwill be freed?
Lost within a volcano, in a recurring nightmare war, brutal honesty sweat seeps through every pore. Frustration is building behind every locked door. I’m waiting in vain for a saviour to adore and it’s about three in the morning as I lay bleeding and bruised on my bedroom floor.
What a drag it is, there is so much time to waste, amongst the carpet burn of boredom expressions on my face, as I think back to some dark damp sunshine days; old school bullies and their butane ways and we’d all be floating in a coca cola bottle bong haze. The ‘good ol’ days’:
Suck on a rainbow, shit out a kaleidoscope of grey. Our thoughts are fucked up, they’re like disfigured limbs today. Like when I’m limping in the overgrown back garden with my long-suffering babe where we both try to drown in a combination of ice cold pimms and lemonade, not much sense is being made.
Wondering what Dylan would do with his feet inside my shoes.
This is a rough 2013 recording of some of those words:
At the weekend:
Is there anybody out there that can take me away from here at warp velocity? It’s not that I’m unhappy or that I’m overly crazy, it’s just five-days-a-week sameness getting on my nerves and diminishing my senses. I keep snapping at my girlfriend like a starving alligator and I’m so full of alcohol and of the fatigue of being a call centre operator. I don’t how she puts up with all my irrational actions, nights full of verbal diarrhoea, apologies and sorrowful retractions.
We are fed up, so fed up. No point in getting up or keeping our heads up. We are fed up.
I pray… is there anybody out there that can take us away from here, at warp velocity?
Here is a rough draft of a song recorded in about 2012/2013… ‘Waiting Around To Die’.
It is a crude reflection on the immediate aftermath of seven year relationship that ended on July 1st, 2009.