Another Poem for TD

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Hipgnosis
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Joined: Thu Feb 26, 2009 2:56 am

Another Poem for TD

Post by Hipgnosis »

Hi,

Thought I would share this with the group. Hopefully this is not so esoteric and crazy, but it is what it is. I write, mostly, from my dream space ... and here is one just born today!

Enjoy

Tangerine. Dream. And Coffee
08/12/2010

I am a dreamer
and so guilty
...
that sometimes
I think
people hate me
for it
...
maybe one's life
is not full
or something like it
that makes them
feel empty
while I can,
freely and easily
dream up
...
anything
...
sometimes foolish
...
often times fun
...
other times different
...
but dream
...
dreaming
...
has been the one muse
the one woman
that has never left me
...
and still talks to me
even after our cock
long seizes to work
and falls into a sleep
...
sometimes making you angry inside
...
how you want to feel young again
...
but the body
does not react
...
how you want to feel excited again
...
but the body
does not react
...
...
but I have
the dream
dreams
of ...
so hard to tell you
what they are about
they have no shame
they have no fear
they have no ...
no!
they have it all
even some unplesant things
but generally
...
fun, lots of fun.

These days
I have a lot of conversations
with many artists,
people that I consider "artists"
in my life
that have inspired me
to no end
for what is art
is measured in the beyondness
that lack words
that lack thought
that lacks interpretation
...
but simply is!
...
and you and I
could sit here
with a cup of coffee
some fruit
ohh, that's a tangerine
...
tasty
...
and dream
and dream
and dream

I'm ready for bed
Edgar is excited and talkative
and we talk
and talk
...
I even tell him
that there are many times
when I see a hand come out
of the sea
a woman's sensual hand
comes out of the sea
open palm to the sky
and in it
is one of those glass things
shaped like an egg almost
...
and inside
is ... something we see
but don't see
...
I guess
you could call it a poem
...
there are people
there are things
there are moments
there are ...
but it's almost like
they are a memory
from a distant past
or a distant future
I think that's not important
in and of itself
...
the fact that you can see it
IS
...
but in retrospect
I want it all
to be a hand ...
for a distant future
with a vision
with a dream
with a hope
...
for all of us
...
about the time
about the place
about the moment
when it all mattered
and we feel
today
that we lived
like we don't,
anymore.

And he's talking to me
about "woman"
how it can be a muse
she can be this
she can be that
she can be a valkyrie
she can be something else
...
and I'm thinking
to myself
that I feel angry
for that is one thing
that my life has missed
and not been lucky about
or with
but I still dream
...
and that's what makes us
who we are
...
I guess I also said
something or other
that someone was not happy with
and Edgar was telling me
that we have to be gentler
...
I loved it
...
Beethoven being gentle
that image
is enjoyable
to no end
and yes ... yes indeed
the music had
as much gentility
as anything else in life
...
I like that
...
my example of how images
or tangerines
can be sweet
or sour
and still dream
day in and out.

So, next,
we're outside
somewhere in nowhere land
after a concert
and while yapping
I see something on the corner
of my eye
and shout
Ingrid _______!
and this shy person
turns around
and today she has
a haircut
that is like Annie O
that to me
is something
that many women lose
when they get older
they no longer find
their long
flowing
beautiful hair
sexy
exciting
a sight to behold
...
and cut it down.

I introduce her to Edgar
and she has a friend
with glasses
that shakes my hand as well
and I feel a ring on his left hand
...
memories of The Greek Theater
live through my mind
...
and then
love memories
of the one woman
that left,
still linger
...
I may be old
...
but there is one beauty
that will never die
that will forever keep me alive
and ...
it's hard to talk
as tears stream by
and music wants to flow
my music being these words
...
she is my muse
as Edgar has mentioned
and will forever be
...
she's surprised
that I recognized her
I think she came to the show
probably thinking
about me
and all those records
and how I talked about these things
bigger than life itself
in art
...
how fucking egotistical of me
...
but when she was leaving
it was as if she was hiding
head down a bit
as if she didn't want to be
recognized
...
I doubt
I would ever not recognize
a person
I love more than
...
anything there ever was
the muse
that gave me a screenplay
that is dearest to my heart
and written for her
...
I gave her the freedom
the choice
...
and she took it
...
even though it was an ending
of the story
she didn't like
...
which to me made sense
as it did Bunuel
...
walk into the distance
to nowhere
now here
now there
never here
never there
...
and I woke up
...
and I wanted to write
and thank her
and Edgar
for another masterful
and exciting evening
of dreaming
and coffee'ing
and talking
and ...
allowing me
to see inside
...
again
...

which your music
has always let me
...
aside from taking me
from here
to the stars
and back and more
...
nameless sights
invisible lands
unknown and unfathomable
... so many things ...

I need a piece of fruit
...
a strawberry
smashes itself between my tongue
and teeth
what's left of them
soft bite these days
...
a peach
strings itself along my teeth
and tongue
sweetness and juicyness
slides by
on its way
to flourish and replenish
an old man
into being a young one
writing a poem
for
a muse
...
a dream
...
a tangerine
a bit sour
still sweet
passes through
and its taste
lingers
...
allows you to dream
feel
think
a little more
yet a little more
...
sometimes it's hard
but the inside is alive
and has a dream
...
many dreams
...
and all I feel I can do
is write these down
send them through
...
and hope
that they,
like the music
can open up
a hand
coming out of the sea
...
so much of a person
to a world
that we all once lived
loved and enjoyed
...
a world
that never dies
...
and forever excites
meaningfully
...
what it is
to have a real
tangerine dream.

Thank you
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