thoughtsonthebus

15 stops. 40 minutes. each day.

Month: November, 2013

Dear Michael,

I would like to start this post off by sincerely thanking the most dearest friend of mine,

Barefoot.Dusty.

I’m not sure I remember the exact date/time, place (? maybe my front room), when you said

“Man! I’ve been listening to Spearhead all weekend, I can’t fuckin wait until he’s out here playing!”

“Who”

:/

Laptop on.

Youtube searched.

And there he was.

This gorgeous soldier of a man,

but scary at the same time, with all his dreds and shit.

Until I heard the music.

And I loved him even more, because he is not his exterior.

So, this is a dear letter penned to you, Michael Franti.

Thank you for holding my hand (lyrically) through some of the

saddest and

most beautiful moments

that I’ve had the experience of experiencing.

I found you again today after about a year.

And your sincere, honest, tia-maria smooth voice has just

bowled me over again.

I can only hope to achieve the level of calm, truth you speak of,

where everyone is a poem

and flowers are meant to be bloomin

and children leave fingerprints upon my heart.

maybe.

You truly are the whisperer of revelations.

I’ve listened today, I’ve walked the wild, windy cliffs of the Bra,

and i had my own revelation.

I was about to say to a man running, “hey it’s really windy around the corner”

but then I thought – maybe my voice will distract him, maybe he’s in the zone,

maybe he’s just enjoying the solitude.

maybe he’s like me, and appreciates the silence of silence.

oh shit.

maybe loads of other people are like that, and I’m always chatty/chatty/chat/chat.

I should probably leave more space, so that something organic can also come from the other person.

I should probably shut the fuck up a little more often.

And not be so frightened by silence amongst people.

This, my friends, is a revelation – hilariously.

So Michael –

Thank you for calming me enough to hear those words of wisdom,

for stopping my mind from focussing on myself for long enough that

I can hear the creak of the door starting to open.

Your’s sincerely,

from a singing heart and a mind that is seeing a little more much-needed light

K

btw: I’m a really big fan 😉

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ht0eoI53S-A

But listen to the whole album “Stay Human” and tell me you’re not feeling awesome about yourself x

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this song too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8mFFGHI7D0

This song kills me. I’ve always found it so dreadfully sad.

today the lyrics are like a prayer, a mantra. Not a bad one at that.

I wanna live life, never be cruel,
I wanna live life, be good to you.
I wanna fly, never come down,
And live my life,
And have friends around.

lyrics.

I love to sing.

In private.

in public.

I can listen to music over and over

and then

the days when my heart is breaking

I hear the lyrics.

They push through the ego

through my chest

in my heart, the lump in my throat becomes

a necklace of the past.

Sit’s there perfectly adorning my chest

with it’s weight of life and love.

with problems past, and futures’ un-realised.

The only way for me to lighten the charms around the chain

is to force myself

to play the songs I want to turn off.

The songs that speak the truth

cold-hard truth.

The lyrics become my sadness exposed.

But hope slides in under,

and on the 2nd, 3rd, 4th time in a row I play it,

I can hear the relief in spewing forth the demons onto paper

into the fingers of the guitarist,

the tap of the drummer,

the raw scratch as the singer sings what could only once,

be whispered through a veil of tears and short-stuttering breath.

Today, it is this song.

He said I only love the idea of him.

I don’t want to. I want to return to him the depth of love he has for me.

For he is truly what shortens my breath, and causes my heart to fly.

I am the one who pulls my heart back, kicking the onlookers and caretakers away.

If I set it free, I might not come back.

It is a cliff, and I’m starting to see that the only way forward, is to fall.

I know I’m capable, I’ve climbed down before, hanging for a brief moment in time

with the air, and the breeze, and the release from having handed up the control.

lying on the sand, i rolled over and brushed his torso.

that’s it. It’s not some dramatic scene, wasn’t a grandiose gesture of love and respect.

my fingertips were connected directly to my heart, my spirit, my soul soared over the waves

and kissed the sky.

God I loved him in that moment. There wasn’t an atom of his that I didn’t think was fucking brilliant.

Like a pool to dive into, i was immersed in him by just touching his skin in the midday sun.

There’s my knowledge.

My knowledge that I am capable, and available for love to create life.

I’m going to be different. I want to be different.

And it’s going to be beautiful x

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewVvNMqvCxM

welcome

30 something someone with some thoughts about some things.

 

first.thing

that’s the hardest.

some people think it’s the evenings,

when the streets go quiet, the cats are sleeping,

and there’s nothing but your own mind

tick

tick

ticking with the days events.

Nights I can handle,

there’s always enough crap on tv to bore me to sleep.

but

first.thing.

that roll over from sleep to awake

when there is no emotion

for a

few.precious.seconds

until

I literally feel my heart sink into my stomach

with the truth

that what I’ve woken up to

is what i fell asleep to.

I guess it’s despair,

a broken heart remembered.

i stop breathing

i clutch my chest, my stomach,

waiting.waiting. it won’t stay long,

but fuck it hurts while it’s there.

I make coffee

roll a cigarette

expose my soul to the rising sun

helps to banish the darkness.

Until first.thing.