I need a clear page to scrape off these lost words from across the sky. There is no time left to waste. The moments of peace are waiting patiently, they have been waiting for ever. In the ruins off main street, the lovers are gathering for the show, the parasites and the farmers, they all wanna go. But i'm here with a bag full of beliefs and a few bucks in my pocket, a head full of games, looking for another joint. A man with a garage full of trucks and a stack of golfing carts heads on over and tells me all about a new you tube fixing shit. I tell um about U.G. and other theories then i head off in the other direction singing, 'there must be someway outa ….. and the wind', begins to shuffle about.
I'm not interested in another formula, another race around a solar system with no way out into a simple love along a riveting river side. 'This is my time, my river, my walk', so… Sasha thought.
The new virus, the lawsuits for the last one, the global net and their heroes, the pivot point of swollen heads and all their plans… all of this, just another strip of glamor, a disease of security, a mental block. I've got my hands full with words from the other side, love mistaken, shadows swinging thru the sky. I've got my mind set on auto and my heart tangled up in some delusion, trying to own me, take me in, collapse me in the end.
Out here along the road where walls never end and streets continue into eternity. The world is ill, we all know that. We are the world, not all know that. In the late afternoon when the song birds relax and the river slows around bends, the dreams begin. The last exit off the highway is the one just before the night, the long dark night where magic begins, that time when silence curves its slow wind across the fields. Those moments when you see things for what they are…. and fear falls.
I sat there like a buddha on ecstasy, smiling from eternity to here, now, watching the spirit of the river glide up stream misty like a levitating shimmering trout and harmony flooding the plains with a future owning it all, now, here. I became pure silence, all knowing. I ate a macintosh apple from my cluttered pouch and pondered over the egg shaped seeds. I fell into a deep sleep, the sun caressed me, entangled me and took me where memory can never go. When i awoke i felt renewed, alive, clear and the river kept flowing but with no burden of time.
I walked back into town, past the beauty salons, the factories, the warehouses and their rules for every move and settled here, this quaint cafe and wrote this for you… my dear friends, my phantom collection, these last few photographs strewn across the dreams and these moments from some last remaining particles of light.
From the tombstone crescent to the sunshine coast, i hit every thought a mind could wrap itself around; then there, by the calm light of tomorrow i fell high, up above over the silver madness straight into your arms. Oh river, i am yours.
Buy me an americano ?
WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Hang Me Up…. Images
If you have found yourself wandering around down here, great, do me a favour; if you enjoyed these words and images…. let me know, spread them out a little. It really does help. The price of time is strangling and i’m hanging upside-down amidst it all. Thanks for watching…..