Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

The Ghosts Have Left Sometimes you try so hard to forget, but thoughts, touch, moments don’t desert you, and you carry them like a bag of sticks on your back wherever you go. But sometimes, you try very hard to remember what it was that you felt, what you saw, what you were – but nothing comes. The more I try to remember, the more I realize I can’t. I try in vain, I sit looking at old photos, but still nothing comes. I cannot relate to what I see. The girl in the photos is 20. She is me, but I don’t know her. She was me in some other life. I look at him. I don’t know him either. I can’t remember how they lived, how they talked, how they sat every morning with their coffee and cigarettes, reading the papers, living their life in that room near the tree, in that place with coloured lights and candles and cushions and their books and their music, and their friends, and their discussions…their endless discussions, their endless dreams…soon their endless fights…like two brothers turned foes

Silent Despair I've got nowhere to go, I've been roaming the strange streets and rivers of a strange place, I've pawned my diamond wedding ring for peanuts, I've got nothing much to do except pray and wait. Only one song comes to my mind: Once upon a time you dressed so fine You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you? People’d call, say, beware doll, you’re bound to fall You thought they were all kiddin’ you You used to laugh about Everybody that was hangin’ out Now you don’t talk so loud Now you don’t seem so proud About having to be scrounging for your next meal. How does it feel How does it feel To be without a home Like a complete unknown Like a rolling stone? You’ve gone to the finest school all right, miss lonely But you know you only used to get juiced in it And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street And now you find out you’re gonna have to get used to it You said you’d never compromise With the mystery tramp, but now you realize He’s not

Waiting for Godot Days of patient sounds on creaky stairs, praying once again for a favour, a strong request, to be considered among those with normal living and happy thoughts Crying out aloud pointing fingers, arguing enough injustice has already been done and repudiation for God's favorite child seems an unfair deal for six years in a row. Begging with folded hands to once again be taken back to those days of lucky strikes and laughing, when everyone used to say with a hint of hidden envy, "How do you always get it right?"