HUNTING ALONE It’s only the endIt’s where you descendWhen you can’t be bothered to speakIt’s a lazy old streetAnd the people you meetAre either just boring or freak ‘What made you this way?’That’s all they can sayBut you don’t want to hear anymoreYou’re out on your ownTimed out and aloneAnd you’re eyes; they just stare
Tag: Poetry to Song
WEARING GOLD LEAF I played the guitarYou held the gunYou answered the questionsI answered none Some days you played coolCrowds you’d just hateYou smiled in the mirrorThanking good fortune’s fate Counting your blessingsWearing gold leafFrom a roof top terraceYou fired your gun; wounded the chief Last time I saw youYou’d swapped ammo for goldI still
This spoof mag cover from about ten years ago was found in a pile of old stuff. I’d almost forgotten it, and my long hair and glasses back then when making music was just that – making music. AN EMPTY HALL I never saw the crossroads on last year’s mapShould I take the left turn
The last time I ever heard your voiceYou were singing, crystal clearMaking up for lost timeStill begging to disappear You never wanted fame, I knowYet destiny comes with a curseDrags you up then lets you downI don’t know what’s worseThan being fed a big lieOne that you believeJust to find out laterYou’ve nothing to achieveExcept
GINNY It wasn’t the dragonIt wasn’t MerlinIt wasn’t the jesterNor his old tambourine It wasn’t the French knightThey called LancelotNor evil Morgan le FayAnd the fall of Camelot Dark Age’s disastersRound table no moreLe Morte d’ArthurLady of the Lake came ashoreShe took care of ExcaliburKept it safe under waterAway from the warsAway from the slaughter
Now the ground is neither a sticky mud bath nor a slippery ice rink accident waiting to happen I went up to the forest on Sunday. Amazing how many trees had fallen down over winter. It’s peaceful up there. WISHFUL THINKING The chatter of the ghostsA haunting silhouetteThe echoes of distant voicesAn orchestral violin quartet
A BELL THAT DOESN’T CHIME You’re looking for a heroThat hero isn’t meI gave up counting daydreamsAnd climbed into historyOn that day I saw a thousand gravesThey all said ‘Aged 19’Wall to wall white marble stoneStood on grass so greenThey went on for milesAs far as I could seeRelics of remembranceA cosmic storm’s debris Were
Memories & new words are pretty much what my new book ‘Looking for Reasons’ is all about. Without ‘memories’ that inspire, whether they’re from yesterday or last year or ages ago, there would be no ‘new words’; no new songs. I like it that sometimes a few photographs from before trigger lyrical verse. Anyhow, here’s
It may seem like Toy TownWhen you’re looking down from up aboveBut in reality what you’ll find thereAre the lovers and the unloved Like anywhere else around the worldOpposites attractNorth and south and east and westThere’s no argument, it’s a fact Umbrellas for a rainy daySledges for the snowBarbeques come summertimeAutumn Bonfire Night’s multi-coloured show
Originally from my song, ‘Liquid Truth’ – written in 2012, me a first year music student back then – these words below open Zoolon’s new book called, ‘LOOKING FOR REASONS’. They just about sum me up. ‘When will all the pieces come together,And if I don’t like the picture am I stuck with it forever?’
