The door stands open,
Peering out, picture in hand, shaking.
Memories flow as freely as the tears,
Each glance a painful blow,
Asking why, she still cries.
The door stands open,
Peering out, picture in hand, shaking.
Memories flow as freely as the tears,
Each glance a painful blow,
Asking why, she still cries.
Hey, how you feelin’?
Are you still the same, don’t you realize the things we did
We did were all for real, not a dream
I just can’t believe they’ve all faded out
Of view…
-Jeff Lynne
I have always loved music. With the exception of rap and country (sorry rap and country fans!!) I can deal with any type of music. For me, it all depends on the mood I’m in. I have bands that I will listen to when I am happy, sad, pissed off, tired or just in a neutral frame of mind. With that said, although I have had this happen before, today I experienced an influx of memories from when I was in high school that was incredibly powerful while listening to Sirius XM radio’s Classic Rewind station.
Classic rewind is described as being a “classic rock radio station…which centers on the Mid 1970’s and 1980’s. The channel is often billed as classic rock from the cassette era, from where the channel’s title is derived.” This is the music that I grew up on, that I listened to during the turbulent, maddening and now fading years of high school. Music that helped me through the good times as well as the bad. Music that kept me occupied as I ran, hiked and explored the cosmos, trying my best to enter the realm of the psychonaut. Music that I still listen to today.
So this morning, as a light rain began falling and I passed from one town to another in a semi comatose state, ELO’s Telephone Line came on the radio. I know, it’s a pretty obscure song, but I have an incredibly vivid memory of standing on my front porch in the fall of ’79, waiting with a couple of friends for my sisters boyfriend to return from the deli with a few six packs of Budweiser. He did come back, but without the cherished Buds. Instead, he arrived with Heinekens!!! For me and my friends, we had won the lottery! It was a glorious night.
This memory has stayed with me over the years. Although I hadn’t thought of it in quite a long time, this morning, for whatever reason, it returned with a vengeance and bombarded my senses in a brilliance that I hadn’t seen before. The changing leaves, the smell of fall…and most of all, the smell of the Heine’s, was all too real. It brought me back to time when I had zero responsibility. As Lester Burnham says in American Beauty, “…I had my whole life ahead of me.”
The trip down memory lane, in this case, was an excellent one.
Anyone out there have a similar experience?
Believe
Inspiration
Time measured in flashes,
Set in motion by memories
Of the sun, only wanting the
Safety of yesterday,
Potential is
Endless
Windswept angry eyes,
An icy veneer softly
Moves against the tide
Of knowing what was passing
In time through my yesterday
Lazy Day
Snow is falling
White flakes accumulate
Like quiet memories lost in
A sugar coated fantasy
Waiting for warmth and time
To erase them
Lazy day
The pain,
Hidden behind
Closed eyes that say nothing,
Silent screams in a mist of tears
That seep through ducts of sadness and
Beauty, each tear a thought,
A call to arms,
Today
Darkness,
A thin veil of
Promise hidden in the
Quiet voices of yesterday.
Voices heard over and over
Bringing memories back,
Taunting us with
Silence
The stuffings been eaten, the turkey is done.
Many relative abound, I hope it was fun.
Some you may like, and some you endure,
Were potatoes and cranberries the ultimate cure?
As the day slowly dwindles and everyone has gone,
The thought once existed they would be there till dawn.
But leave you they must, to return to their houses,
Packed into cars with children and spouses.
So nightfall is here, just you and your clan,
A nice quiet evening, oh yes I’m a fan,
But as I lay on the couch and drift off to sleep,
It’s memories like these, I’m certain to keep.
So cherish your family, your pets and your life,
It’s been a day to enjoy, one without strife.
But a question I have, if I can have my own say,
Is why can’t we get along, more than just on Thanksgiving day?
Tears, flow from the pain
Like a rusty colored dream
Swirling behind the closed doors
Of the past, forever, now
Tears slide down the contours of her face,
Each one filled with reminders of the past.
When hearts beat as one and love was new,
But time is cruel and the story told as souls age and drift apart,
Is a forgotten one.
Time slowly descends on what once was, asking for nothing and promising
everything.
Attempting to fill a void…