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Let me spit out my bitterness

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Mark J. Brown (1958-1995)

Let me speak, let me spit out my bitterness

I met Mark Brown a cold crazy night in 1984
He looked at me, smiled for three days
And disappeared
Three days
The big white teeth
The old grey coat
The silly things we laughed about
A crowded bus our kingdom
The old people our audience
Kissing
Smiling
My poor English
His precious mouth

Three days and he left me all alone
I saw his hand waving goodbye
I saw the future
And the future was only mine
I wrote, he promised
I cried, he danced
I loved, he laughed

He didn’t miss me, flying through his world
I missed him every night in my little bed
I looked for him
In each body I kissed
Every song
Every shoulder
Every teeth
Every man I touched

Mark smiled for me a little bit more
Another three days next year
Four days two summers later
He called, and I ran
Blind
Happy
He was having fun
And I was drowning in Stevie’s seas

Ten years later I heard his voice on the phone
“I want to see you, I’d like to talk to you”
But I had new nightmares
New coats, buses, shoulders
A new future now old
And told him I thought it wasn’t a good idea

I got a Xmas card:
“You’re not going to believe this,
But soon I’ll write a long letter to you, I promise”
He never did

Mark died two months later
I didn’t even know he was sick
I felt sad
Hurt
Furious
Lonely

“Why don’t you write me
A letter would brighten
My loneliest evening
Mail it today
If it’s only to say
That you’re leaving me” (*)

Greg Gallop sent me a little piece of paper telling me the news. I saw the envelope and I knew something wasn’t going right before I opened it. I was alone in my room. Joni Mitchell was singing this song:

Let me speak let me spit out my bitterness
Born of grief and nights without sleep and festering flesh
Do you have eyes?
Can you see like mankind sees?
Why have you soured and curdled me?
Oh you tireless watcher! What have I done to you?
That you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true?

Once I was blessed; I was awaited like the rain
Like eyes for the blind, like feet for the lame
Kings heard my words, and they sought out my company
But now the janitors of Shadowland flick their brooms at me
Oh you tireless watcher! What have I done to you?
that you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true?

I’ve lost all taste for life
I’m all complaints
Tell me why do you starve the faithful?
Why do you crucify the saints?
And you let the wicked prosper
You let their children frisk like deer
And my loves are dead or dying, or they don’t come near

Oh and look who comes to counsel my deep distress
Oh, these pompous physicians
What carelessness!
Breathtaking ignorance adding insult to injury!
they come blaming and shaming
And shattering me
Oh you tireless watcher! What have I done to you?
That you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true?

Already on a bed of sighs and screams
And still you torture me with visions
You give me terrifying dreams!
Better I was carried from the womb straight to the grave
I see the diggers waiting, they’re leaning on their spades
And where is hope while you’re wondering what went wrong?
Why give me light and then this dark without a dawn?
Show your face!
Help me understand!
What is the reason for your heavy hand?
Was it the sins of my youth?
What have I done to you?
That you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true?
Everything I dread and everything I fear come true
Oh you make everything I dread and everything I fear come true


(Joni Mitchell – “The sire of sorrow” – Turbulent Indigo)

(*) Paul Simon: “Why don’t you write me?”

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Written by Zanobbi

marzo 2, 2008 a 10:00 am

Publicado en Cosas, Musica, Poesia

Tagged with , , , , ,

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