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PhilBborn
Newbie
Joined: 04 Aug 2010 Posts: 1
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Halton Arena 10/14/2010 |
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I found myself crying while the man on the stage was pleading with his hands stretched outward; almost snapping his fingers to the music while wondering if her hair was still red.
Never could I have written this script never could anything in life that is so beautiful and textured deep in reality's emotions been written in advance. So a mirror was held high up for me. Everyone with a ticket got one.
Yes while wondering if Mr. Jones knows where his contacts are, up north! business to take care of in Jersey streets, lumberjacks- whos' wife? who's driving beyond the horizen in the fields. Tellin' us his thoughts- glimpse of life relations coming and going out of town.Sisters brothers and parents who never did get their dancing shoes out yet the sand was always on the floor- just the same. From brave decorations of the heart to utter neglect- he gravitated to the loving care of uncles and new found friends who reminded him where he could go for a shot of love.
The meditation of song anchored in empty truth- Yes you are not invited- you're shooed in immediately with a license to create. there is nowhere out of here it's life and life only. Yes my love speaks like silence with no idea of violence. No proclamation of being faithful when she's true like ice like fire. Yes you and millions ushered through the years into the arena. The divine canvass of your friend the artist everyone carrying a lamp especially so since Christmas Eve. The show was over.
Did you know a U-Haul Trailor was a truck with no wheels? or that Hurricane and FDR read the same books and old vinylsweated blues at the 1930's side shows and blood was found
on the tracks as the Slow Train was coming.
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Tue Apr 17, 2012 1:50 pm |
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