Tim's poems

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Tim's poems

Postby Dust Mote » Wed Dec 22, 2010 7:38 pm

I was fortunate enough to catch Tim's poetry reading at Latitude this year, and have it on film, though didn't like to upload it anywhere. Happy to transcribe them for posterity though. This one he described as an un-named poem written about the Burning Man festival he attended a few years ago

Where do I start?
Nothing seemed real to me, so where do I start?
I was always looking for an answer
An understanding
You catch a glimpse of an object in the mist
Reach out and it’s gone

I was at the Burning Man festival a few years ago
Sunday morning, 12am, a dust storm blew in
I’m prepared on a cranky old bike
Goggles and face mask
I’m prepared for any eventuality
I rehearse all possible outcomes – you have to be quick to catch me out
I cover all angles – I’m as careful as a chess master

I wasn’t breast-fed – I was raised by the lash of my mother’s tongue
She could rip the label from a tin can at 50 yards
Her critic ruled the house, the message being that we were not ok
We learnt early to internalise her monologue – not ok
To pre-empt her and soften the blow
If you know it’s coming it doesn’t hurt so much
If you’ve rehearsed it, it’s easier to deal
You needed a strategy or you might end up like your sister – Peppy
It’s in the name, first child, took the full brunt of my mother’s unhappiness
And desire for something to be good and perfect
A broken doll that can be shaped at will – her will
By the time I came along, my mother’s plans for a master race had gone astray
Mandy, my next sister up, had broken her
She came in with the essence of the sixties – the 1960s
Questioning, challenging and idealistic
Mandy had a twin and comrade-in-arms – Samantha, her Basset Hound
I remember going to pick her up as a puppy
Her brothers and sisters were suckling – she walked in, tripping over her own ears
Smiled, and then peed on the floor at our feet – it was love at first sight
Unlike the house-broken Labrador, a Basset cannot be trained
It steals, lies and pretends to be more stupid than it is
Samantha was cool – Cool Hand Luke or Randle P McMurphy to the inmates at my home
Never obeying
Together as a tag team with my sister, they broke my mother’s grip
And I followed in the slip stream
But at least I tried to follow but all my siblings were all packed off to boarding school
To the ‘privilege’ of boarding school
They survived it – the privilege – where had they all gone? I missed them

Suddenly, I was an only child and my mother’s sole focus – SOLE focus
I hid – I hid in plain sight – I was there, but not there
Like my father, I can do a good impersonation of being present
I’m a magician who can create holographic doppelgangers
Whilst I am away somewhere safe within my imagination
That’s how I survived school – pretend to be more stupid than you are and keep your head down

I learned to act – I learned to act because – I wasn’t ok, wasn’t good enough
I learned to act, to hide – fear, sadness, loneliness and even joy
I hid them so well that soon, even I didn’t know where they were buried
And if you can’t feel those emotions – what’s left?
A half life, a Borg, an impersonation of a human being
Who am I? An actor who’s spent the last 30 years reclaiming himself
Trying to learn the difference between authenticity and an act
A question mark

So back to Burning Man
You remember – I’m in the dust storm – a complete dust storm
In the middle of the desert with my girlfriend-to-become-wife
We can’t see ten feet on either side
Sunday morning – 12pm – it feels like a blank page before anything is created
A nothingness, a void – before a mind projects an image
An image we call reality
And out of the void comes a beat, a dance beat
And out of the void comes a flatbed truck covered in pink fluorescent pompoms
And on that truck dance naked and semi-naked people
Beautiful, free and sexy
Shaved vaginas that look you bold in the eye and say
I have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide
A woman gets off the truck, hands us free condoms
She asks us if we want to join
She dances with us, climbs back on the truck and disappears back into the void
Back into my unconscious, from where it all comes
Dust Mote
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Re: Tim's poems

Postby MikeandJanane » Thu Dec 23, 2010 3:16 am

Thanks for that Dust Mote!
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Re: Tim's poems

Postby Monica » Sat May 21, 2011 6:08 pm

Do any one know if it is music to the lyrics in the CD folder that came with the new album?
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