I am brujo!

flying thru’ the air

cracking my sticks together

I am brujo!

flying because I must

having left my shoes

in the house of the woman

the woman who knew

knew too many things

that I was falling in love

with her but now I am brujo

flying thru’ the air

cracking my sticks together

to open space & time

flying under electricity wires

feeling their heat & danger

over families on horses

thru’ the high trees

small leaved oaks

I am brujo!

& then I am awake

middle of a sand dust field

early morning spain

somewhere near Valencia


I never knew

as she always dressed well

hair done nails done

eyelashes done

always doing her best to look done


& the air she carried with her

hints of a once model career


above the nose

the smell of the side streets

that she knew for sure I came from

& of money

enough for her good life

assured of course

when she died

we found

she lived in a one room dive

filled with the clutter

of her long years alone

all front no back no sides

cooking on a hot plate& an old coffee maker

living on government money


one day at a time

drinkers man

sat in the back seats

of the kitty korner lounge

the days

when smoking was allowed

designated driver sipping cokes

my passengers my friends

sat along the bar

swapping bullshit stupid jokes

buying rounds beers chasers cigars

while I read my college books

& I heard a commotion

blows were trying to being exchanged

I got over there quick

separated them body style

some crack made about some event

happened years ago

& the best bit was: nobody

could remember who said what

started the spat

just they wanted to fight

never quite made it outside

it was about then I really needed a drink

but being designated driver

this was my turn not to be stupid

the evil they do

& I’ve met a few

the one we got here tonight strafing my mind

started out loving kind & caring & then

something happened she started wanting to fight

would come over sweet want to do the beast thing

but never stay the night

& when I said c’mon tell me

what’s happening here are you fixing to blow?

no was all she’d say

though her actions continued to show

then she let slip sly soft slow

how she’d heard from another

that I treated my women bad

& so now it was her turn

to give me some of that treatment

see how I liked all of that

& no matter my explain

to behave badly on the say so of another

is the spirit of evil y’know?

she did not want to get that & I had to let her go

because no denial on my part

would ever help her see the rain

in her own dark heart

walkin’ man

saturday nights late summer

be the walkin’ man

goin’ somewhere


walkin’ not drivin’

because later

there would be drinkin’ goin’ on

good drankin’ heavy drankin’

got ideas issues stuff to discuss

creatin’ thirst y’know

walkin’ mean streets

people got doors open

they’ve not got air

money to spare for the electricity

& you look inside

getting’ glimpses of other realities

just what do they do in there?

you see the colours from the tv reflected

but no sound no movement

unlike you the walkin’ man

being the walkin’ man

goin’ somewhere


people to see

yin to your yang

my need for outside

v your shut-in ways

lack of understanding

that this thing we have


is about adventure

new experiences

getting better

at what we do

while you fuss

about appearances

the toys

to indicate affluence

evidence of who you

think yourself

to be

soft easy furniture

heated surrounds

to watch the box

see the world

second hand

so long ago

not that this happens often

or much


if I mention her name

his face goes awry

like he’s holding on to something

that he thinks I don’t know

& I want to say

let’s just let whatever go

that you might have had

with her

so long ago

I was done with her

she with me

& if you want to spit it out

do so

but let’s not pretend

about something

so long ago

of the crowds

maybe it was

the light in my eye

way of talking

thinking strange ideas out loud

but I was always impressed

how others knew clear

way before I did

I was not of their kind

just a passing through man

destinations unknown

& there were times I dearly

wanted to be part of a crowd the crowd

but no maybe it was

the light in my eye

talking odd thoughts out loud

amongst people who will tell you

we like ideas like to discuss

but no there lies the smokescreen

the ideas the discussion was always

what they knew feel comfortable with

where that for me was a starting point

looking into the void

maybe it was the light in my eye

a madness keeping me out

of the crowds

& I couldn’t see this at all

but they always did

way before me

trains of thought

there are a couple of schools

trains of thought

on these things

this place I’m living in for now

has Les’ wandering the hall

whispering in the bedroom

that he’s not happy

with the furniture

pictures hanging on the walls

he bought this place in the 50’s

when it was brand spanking new

moved in with the missus baby daughter

over time they either grew up or moved on

but Les’ grew his tomatoes

talked with the neighbours stayed on

part of his community

until last years the dementia

walking the streets bathrobe slippers

looking for something that had gone

& now he strolls the hall unhappy

with the changes we’ve made

the two schools of thought here

one being that ghosts walk amongst us

the other I’m mad as the hatter


Eric Satie

would play on from the corner

Once upon a time In Paris

I remember that full well

the white sheets 600 Egyptian thread

& her hair her body stretched out

her need for another bottle

I was pushing hard then

trying to finish an education

make some money get by

& this exotic creature

had dragged me in to her life

not that I needed much dragging

I was wanting some romantic love

where she needed a sidekick

some sad soft led lad adventurer

to take the sin shoulder the blame

& being invincible good times to come

dropped headlong deep into that game

six months to fall in & eighteen in all

for me to climb out escape her clutches

I got Eric Satie playing in the corner now

that room that bed those sheets the woman

have all gone

as has any memory of any kind conversation

but the music? plays on