Life’s Uncertain, Probably Paignton
Life’s Uncertain, Probably Paignton
We were at one of those small genteel amusement parks you find alongside the promenade. It was a sunny day, so bright, at points almost flashing into whiteness. There were daffodils in the beds, golden memorial plaques on the benches and we were wearing pale yellow shirts with dark yellow trousers. Strolling past the teacups ride, I told you that no one in this world would vouch for me.
No one in this world would vouch for me,
Nor rest awhile in my memory.
Life’s uncertain, probably Paignton,
Whereat courage desists from mainten
ance of my radiophonic mind;
Voices do too much abound that kind
Words should assume a grief's prosody;
For I retain all that is told me.
Every unit of what is said,
Running simultaneously, bled
Of intent, sounds like idling rue,
The soft sobs of someone like me, who
Has engineered conflict to stop it
Hurting so, when I lose loved ones. Sit
And rest awhile, after your long hike;
Would anyone ask "what was he like?"
About me?
Being so sonically sensitive, I retain every unit of all my old friends' confidences, though I am no longer privy to where they are drinking. At 21, the words John used when he told me he was a gambler, at 17, those used by Janna when she told me her nana had died over Christmas, at 11, those Aaron used when he asked if my willy goes hard when I kiss a girl: all these, layered, serried like tombs, looping at varying speeds do now attest to my radiophonic mind and have the lilt of loss.
No one
Could vouch for what is barely extant.
Misled
By some scotoma in the sextant,
My death,
Which had seemed so far does now impinge.
What was he like?
“On summer days, he packed a syringe
Filled with sugar water to give to
Dehydrated bumble bees, but you
Would not have wanted to live with him!
On rainy days, with drains at the brim,
He would stoop all along the pavement
To rescue worms, in some enslavement
Either
To fastidiousness or welfare.
People would shout from car windows fair
Comments, like ‘Worms!’ or, one time, ‘Braces!’
(He was wearing some). He heard ‘Racist!’,
And returned home to his wife quite grim.
You would not have liked to live with him!”
The song versions are here and here.
We were at one of those small genteel amusement parks you find alongside the promenade. It was a sunny day, so bright, at points almost flashing into whiteness. There were daffodils in the beds, golden memorial plaques on the benches and we were wearing pale yellow shirts with dark yellow trousers. Strolling past the teacups ride, I told you that no one in this world would vouch for me.
No one in this world would vouch for me,
Nor rest awhile in my memory.
Life’s uncertain, probably Paignton,
Whereat courage desists from mainten
ance of my radiophonic mind;
Voices do too much abound that kind
Words should assume a grief's prosody;
For I retain all that is told me.
Every unit of what is said,
Running simultaneously, bled
Of intent, sounds like idling rue,
The soft sobs of someone like me, who
Has engineered conflict to stop it
Hurting so, when I lose loved ones. Sit
And rest awhile, after your long hike;
Would anyone ask "what was he like?"
About me?
Being so sonically sensitive, I retain every unit of all my old friends' confidences, though I am no longer privy to where they are drinking. At 21, the words John used when he told me he was a gambler, at 17, those used by Janna when she told me her nana had died over Christmas, at 11, those Aaron used when he asked if my willy goes hard when I kiss a girl: all these, layered, serried like tombs, looping at varying speeds do now attest to my radiophonic mind and have the lilt of loss.
No one
Could vouch for what is barely extant.
Misled
By some scotoma in the sextant,
My death,
Which had seemed so far does now impinge.
What was he like?
“On summer days, he packed a syringe
Filled with sugar water to give to
Dehydrated bumble bees, but you
Would not have wanted to live with him!
On rainy days, with drains at the brim,
He would stoop all along the pavement
To rescue worms, in some enslavement
Either
To fastidiousness or welfare.
People would shout from car windows fair
Comments, like ‘Worms!’ or, one time, ‘Braces!’
(He was wearing some). He heard ‘Racist!’,
And returned home to his wife quite grim.
You would not have liked to live with him!”
The song versions are here and here.
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