There are gaps in my mind
Where love has melted away
Now that I can see through the gaps in my mind
What is out there today
There are gaps in my mind
Where love has been eaten away
By monsters in the sand weed sun
And the sea-fall avalanche of clay
There are gaps in my mind a thousand years old
And walls an oblivion thick
And rapids of love between the cracks
And the light switch of life that goes click
Lonely politicians sit like rabbits
As the cleaners push their mops and buckets down the hallowed halls
Where Tudor kings with huge bellies
write up the morning’s executions
Lonely politicians sit like rabbits
Eating newspapers and sending out their shadows
To sit at normal breakfasts
In prayerful neglect
Lonely politicians sit like rabbits
And talk all day – on railway trains
They catch up with themselves
At prize carrot competitions
Lonely politicians sit on chairs like rabbits
Inside ice cream vans
Where black snakes are gathering to ask for light
To radiate from the heads of crows
Lonely Politian’s, who sit like rabbits
Chewing manifestoes like cabbage
Talking like children locked in toilets
To gingerbread men in throne rooms
Lonely politicians who sit like rabbits in glue
Folding their faces into magic wallets
Releasing balloons over bonfires
What if I am a shadow
Chasing after the man who ran away
What if I am a shadow
Badly balanced on a tightrope
What if I am a shadow
Chasing after the chicken hatched from an egg
Or running through the electric wire fence
What if I am a shadow
Running down the handle of a cheap spoon
Or leaking through the hourglass
to a ground covered in animal traps
What if I am a shadow
That runs up and down a zip
like an empty cable car on the moon
What if I am a shadow
Chasing after love in the prison of the world
I woke up this morning
And I looked out into the street
The cats were doing the cha-cha
Yes
They’d found their dancing feet
Le chat
Cha-cha
Le chat
Cha-cha
I came home in the evening
And I stepped into the yard
There were spot lights in the trees
And music from the stars
The cats were doing the cha-cha
Le chat
Cha-cha
The cats were into the cha-cha
Les chats
Cha-cha
When I woke up today
There in the cat litter tray
Was a great piece of art
I see her in the art gallery
She gets more than my salary
And cat food by the calorie
Of the wealthy people there are many
Who own a work by my cat Jenny
But I never made a penny
Her bedding made a million
He stuffed bids made a trillion
Her graffiti made a zillion
With an art film about her purring
now she goes out touring
hedge and street
one night she came back
and curled up on the mat
and that was that
A journey on the DLR line from Poplar going east. It was a summery day and i tried to record the development going on along this stretch of the railway. Years and years ago Canary Wharf was built near me, since then it has been growing and growing. Canary Wharf Tower has the big corporations taking over the floors inside.
When it was being built i worked for a year in the canteen inside canary wharf tower when someone dropped a girder. As it fell clanging down the tower every one in the canteen raced for the door convinced it was going to land on top of them. Then it thankfully bounced off of a fixed girder away from the canteen and every one calmed down.
Monty begins in the city of Trieste, close to Italy’s border with Croatia, to visit a public garden first created by an obsessive royal plantsman more than 150 years ago, which is now being carefully restored. He then heads down the Adriatic coast through Croatia to pick up the trail that the Venetians followed, ending his journey on the beautiful island of Lopud, near Dubrovnik. Along the way, he discovers spectacular natural lakes and wildflowers, is given a tour of ancient olive groves, discovers a nursery where over 200 varieties of Iris – the national flower of Croatia – can be found, and is allowed into one of only two monastic gardens in the whole country.
Monty Don’s Adriatic Gardens – Friday 8pm on BBC2
I saw episode 2 with a national park, 600 year old trees, reclaimed land turned into wonderful gardens. Catch word was land equals food.
From On the Box website
As humanity settles down
To making cars
As humanity settles down
To building slaughter houses
As humanity settles down
To going out on Fridays
As humanity settles down
To street lights in the evening
As humanity settles down
To watching televisions
As humanity settles down
To trains in the distance
As humanity settles down
Into bedrooms in the winter
A little sprig of Geranium
Blossoms in a vase
This lovely song is by Todd Rundgren from his album “Runt” 1971. Todd Rundgren produced artists at the Bear Studio owned by the legendary Albert Grossman in Woodstock.
Lyrics
I was born this very morning
And my brother he was also born,
In our first nine months we learned to speak
And we have been listening since early morn.
I love no one but my brother
Who spent those months with me
I hate no one and no other has so far hated me
But it isn’t yet the afternoon,
And things are still to be,
And when evening comes we all will see.
I am not very old and I won’t live long.
I was born this very morning singing this here song
Now I feel the worst for older people
Winding out their friendless hours alone
Seeing lives like plays at final curtain
Looking out to find everyone has gone home.
Is there something I can pray to?
Some offering I can send?
Or some ear that I can play to, to help him find a friend?
And maybe then redeem myself to keep me from that end
For the evening comes and who knows when.
Oh, my brother, where is our mother?
Is there no other to live together,
To be our lover?
Songwriters: Todd Rundgren
The artwork is by Bob Zoel.
Zoell’s art is formally disciplined, yet slyly self-mocking.
In 1970, he began exploring Abstract Reductive Formalism and representational painting, however he first gained attention for his counterfeit parking signs with oddly cryptic messages installed on Los Angeles streets. Critical acclaim soon followed for his minimalist abstractions that combined elemental geometric forms with evocations of “smiley” faces, stick figures, and other rudimentary imagery
Exploring a book called Small Town Talk by Barny Hoskyns. About Woodstock the town outside New York and discovering some fab albums. This from an album called Holy Moses, Holy Moses, they sadly only made one album, but what a great album.
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