Memory Lane

Today I took the road back to Memory Lane, reading old poems and stories and old articles about the music in my life.

Back in 2008, when I started this blog, I never thought I’d go this far with it. Actually, I took a break from blogging and writing all together, in 2010, if my memory serves me right.

It’s funny reliving all these thoughts and feelings and I find it amazing that the same songs still move me.

May 26th was the first day I ever wrote something on my own, not a forum run by idiots. So this year I will celebrate this little thing called blog, since it’s its 5th anniversary. 5 is also my favorite number and my lucky number.

I’ll go back to reading my memoirs. I’m on page 24 out of 32, but I started reading it backwards.

am… was… will be

i am made of air,
am made of filth,
made of nothing but despair
and scrapes
and sour blood
and things to love and to forget
and things to hurt
and borrowed sweat.

i was a fool,
i was a broken fool,
and as i stood in front of you,
i layed out
arms,
and legs,
and heart for you,
for you to break,
you hissing snake!

i will be dust,
i will be nothings,
i’ll hide my trust
and set the fire
from down my spine to my desire,
clenched in my hands and some barbed wire.
with this i’ll be no more than that:
the lovely, broken fool in a mad hat.

Miss

Missing-Piece I miss the mountain air. This is how all my thoughts start lately, so I dive in and take in a little piece of city air to keep me warm and safe from harm.

I miss whatever it is that makes me walk. This is how all my thoughts start at the end of the day, when I realise I’ve done nothing. So I take just one more step and out I go.

I miss flowing. This sound weird, I know, but there was a time when everything was flowing around me, and that time seems so golden and peaceful now, I can’t help but miss it.

I sometimes miss me. This one is something I can’t understand, because how could I misplace me? It’s a question without answer and a plate without food, so I try to move on each time this horrible thought enters me.

Pic.