Note To Self – Tom Orr

038 procrastinationAnother brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.

(Apologies to Bob Dylan)

When your breath gets shallow, and you can’t feel your feet

When the shadows creep into your sunlit street.

When your thoughts turn to dust and your tongue is dry,

When your sword is blunt and clouds fill the sky

When the buzz of a fridge is all you can hear

When you’re standing alone at the end of a pier

When your baby is crying and the bills aren’t paid,

and your lover’s run off with the chamber maid.

When your childhood memories of lush green hills

turn to concrete rivers and plastic thrills

When you see the ball in the back of your net,

the cold air cuts through, and you shiver and sweat.

When your hero gets shot and your words get twisted

and you dig all day till your fingers are blistered.

You’ve walked as far as you can with the sun beating down.

Your thirsty and tired and can’t hear a sound.

The birds start to circle and you fall to your knees,

There’s smoke in your brain and you cough and you wheeze

Your chest start to crumble and you pull at your hair

When you can’t recall if you’re here or there

You’ll want to escape, you’ll want to shut down

You’ll just want to run, disappear out of town

 

You’ll chase the bright lights and the rainbow swells

You’ll look to the promise of big silver bells,

You’ll disappear to the mountains or fly up the pole,

You’ll dive into the river or a rabbit hole.

You’ll reach for a branch or your mothers hand.

You’ll lose yourself in another’s plan

You’ll hope for the wind to blow the right way,

You’ll jump on the ships sailing out of the bay.

You’ll want for a pretty girl to blow you a kiss,

You’ll look to the eyes of the ones you miss

You’ll do anything you can to get far away

but just remember, in the same park you play

 

There’s a weary young woman who’s looking for a line

to make sense of the colours, to know she’s not blind

There’s a sea sick lover leaning over the stern

reading poems to the ocean from a heart that burns

There’s an out of work husband, on a lonely park bench

humming a tune to make things make sense

There’s an old army nurse, walking into the cold

reciting a verse her mother once told

There’s a teenage couple, with an old english novel

connecting the dots to get over their trouble

An old lady on a bus is writing down jokes

that she keeps in the pocket of her petticoat.

There’s plenty more people who would only choke

if they couldn’t feel the words that someone else wrote

If they couldn’t understand the land that they stand on

To point to a sign and keep walking strong

To carry a flag, have their wings beat

To laugh at the sky, feel their bodies in sync

 

So when your breath gets shallow and there’s dirt in your mouth.

When the tide’s pulled out and your birds flown south.

Just stand in the mud with the blood on your face

take a deep breath and fill up the space

Feel the drums start, and the trumpets blow

Pick up your pen, and write what you know.

 

Tom’s on twitter @thomsorr

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