Saturday

Image

There is a window.

When I started this post thats all i wanted to write.That there is an image of a window floating surreally in my head.But then,it would be blasphemous to leave such vividity undescribed.

There is a window.Embedded in a creamish cemented wall.It has a prominent black square enveloping it.It doesnt serve its purpose because it doesnt have a glass.This of course,could be a conclusion I come maybe because of my limited insight.Maybe it serves its purpose BECAUSE it doesnt have glass.Anyway there it is.The wall,the window,the infinite sea,the headrush of wind,dirt,the smell of sweat..images and sensations that slowly creep into my mind with every passing second filling voids,giving company to the lonely window.
Black eyed seagulls,rusted lighthouses,the smell of oil,that of withered wood,the scent of a sailors foresight,the orange horizon,a ball,the world,a book,10000 leagues of salted water,Sindbad. The precision of the sheer power of imagination.a mixture of unknown unheard of things in a single frame.A picture that not 10,000 poets could describe in 10,000 pages.And there is sound...
The sound of angry waves,the sound of lazy waves,the sound of solitude,the sound of soliliquoy,sound of silence,silent thought,orders,creaking of hulls,rain,the wind making love to the trees(the tempest wind and the graceful leaves),,roars of a faraway cloud,restless excitement.

I have this image in my head.I just can't get it out.And I could write a song ,a hundred miles long...

Now listening to Billy Joel (Goodnight Saigon)

We met as soulmates
On Parris Island
we left as inmates
from an asylum
and we were sharp
as sharp as knives
and we were so gung ho to lay down our lives.

we had no homefront
we had no soft soap
they sent us playboy
they gave us bob hope
we dug in deep
and shot on sight
and prayed to Jesus Christ with all of our might.

We had no cameras
to shoot the landscape
we passed the hash pipe
and played our Doors tapes
and it was dark..
so dark at night
and we held onto each other
like brother to brother
we promised our mothers we'd write

(chorus)
and we would all go down together
we said we'd all go down together
yes we would all go down together.