Getting There

Rain falling and I'm remembering.

Two people I seemed to be as a child.

First born for a couple of decades in Old Jindabyne before the dam, I postured and pranced expecting admiration and laughter.

Then Daddy left us behind.

It's in the memoir, all that.

Muma and me, there we were remembering the old times and no-one spoke of them.

The world grew silent, no-one ever saw me and I thought to myself, am I here, is this a pretence?

Thus was the first breakdown and the first horror dentist.

There's a lot already written, a few books.

One time I believed in music per se.

If a person believes in music, perhaps they shouldn't get to know musicians.

I don't know Bob Dylan although he advises me with regard to my writing in my dreams.

(Dream On!)

A poem published while worlds fall apart.

I have got the hang of the things gone wrong in my life.

I've been writing in my note book.

There is another horrid abscessed tooth. Awful.

I ain't whinging about it all.

I never knew about the Asperger's or the effects of bad dentistry and so on until recently.

I got me facts together with the 'Education' shit I went thru in this country.

It's in the note books.

Tryin to get a couple of my essays published overseas.

Noone here in Oz seems to be interested in the process of accumulating and investigating the processes of belief and knowledge.

Especially those I once believed to be open minded and honourable people.

I guess the next post should deal with illusions as I look out from my imaginary Beach House over a quiet pale sea!