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Array
(
[sid] => 134791
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Dublin City Jazz Session Vol I
[time] => 2007-05-30 00:48:43
[hometext] => If you enojoyed it you can read more at: beatjournals.blogspot.com
[bodytext] => I never found true happiness till I put my butt on the road, simple thoughts over simple things, simple values over sorrow pleas, transforming what's not to touch, endless commentaries that shutters what a beach boy said, Back vocal lyrics over asthmatics senses shallow holes filled of nefarious hands struggling to go afloat, White is the sand that lies beneath the deep of the ocean, remember one thing and don’t loose your grip true lies within us all, Relaxing the back in a nice black and blue velvet leather sofa, the warm sip of the red wine that goes merry go down my throat relaxes all of my senses, feeling complete I am, yes I do, that brings me naturally to a fine vineyard in a French campagne, oak barreled fueled tanks tangerine and raspberry flavours tracks down the colours in my wide and dilated pupils spiced up with finest herbs man can ever find, I listen to the wind whisper tender thoughts through my ears, erotic movements in my soul walkin’ by these sweet and red Ballsbridge boulevards, the rain pours down my shoulders the suit shrinks and the tie strangles what was left of my youth, no more hair long no more piercing or whatsoever, That magic feeling wraps this unbelievable and disastrous monotonous existence, falling far from below away this tears that runs through my cheeks, believing the impossible that turns just ‘round the corner, Carry that weight, carry that sweet rendezvous of the night on your shoulders, It’s only an island if you look it down from the water, no matter what’s to expect, it’s a realization of your dreams canalized in go go dances under sad and weary neon lights, People go by go up go down go straight go gay go sad go daylight go night go crazy go fast go sweet go tender go bollocks! Walk down the bohemian and crowded streets and take a good look to the people, delusion and broken hearted hobos, lonesome travelers, desolated angels, on the road goers, backpackers full of angelical curiosity, anti-political killers of the system desirous of everything, the streets flow with satirical and angry rhapsodies, protest what's to protest Strike! Create! Sing! Write! Lay round your heart and play with the beautiful side of life, Look far from that dirty and weary window of the small café, you’ll be amused and find yourself watching everybody undress their souls in front of you, shut your eyes for a moment and imagine quintessential life stories of these poor and torn bastards, struggling to stay awake from a nightmare that hunts us all, The night comes all right, bright and starry, delightfully desperate howls at the break of dawn, in its sweet and gorgeous presence lights the path for the junkie, who consoles his own habit seeking true and restless happiness in this bitter life, But above all things, believe in the power of change, there’s always somebody out there who’s willing to tend us a light at the end of the tunnel. Capel Street, 10/12/06 [comments] => 1 [counter] => 183 [topic] => 21 [informant] => AndresMariani [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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