An ode to the actor David Bowie and the musical genius he is.
John's poetry is based on the movie "The man who fell to earth".
A solitary skyscraper firework wipes a displaced TV’s smirk
And surrounds me much as showbiz – a slave to glitz not work.
And all the bodies glisten – a reflection’s substitute
For instant salivation - the fool has lost his flute.
The desert and the alcohol – the girl is a mirage
Machinations cut me deeply - the stars so bright and large.
I've patented my soul now but it’s a buyer’s market
And I’m open to all offers but I’m trying hard to hide it.
In my abject misery give me a shoulder I can cry on
Or as the bullets fly perhaps a soldier to rely on.
To be honest I don’t remember my name or origin
Do I rip like some weak fabric and am I drenched in sin?
I teeter on the edge of pinstriped tainted blues
Addicted to Earth’s oxygen – the game of win or lose.
Bugging someone’s private life for a say on juicy matters
Or huddled round an Ouija board for a séance which then flatters.
Somehow my very being is bleak, disposable at best
Like a battered long-wave radio in need of spark or zest.
A black hole grabs me by the throat – I’m such a hungry ghost
I must have more possessions, I long to have the most.
Is mindfulness the buzzword of the bitter middle-class?
Trappings wrapped around us as the starving file past.
If now is so much better than my imagination
Why do I drift and suffocate and give in to stagnation.
A chorus line of over made up wannabe believers
Belt out a call for substance like some lost over achievers.
Does this cell reflect my pure love - an inner-sanctuary?
Is the stylus on my record deck sticking just for me?
If one more person tells me to see existence inwardly
I may chop down the forest so they can’t hug a tree.
Where to start really? Just where can we begin?
Footsteps in the interlude – the ice on which we spin.
If the past can trick me every night when I look up at the sky
Perhaps spacemen were an afterthought – the ultimate fake high.
released 11 January 2014
Poetry and spoken words: John Lake Hobbs: www.johnlakehobbs.com
Music: Dennis Ramler (flowermouth)