Ain’t The End

You walk with me through the dead of night
Down an empty street full of moonlight
Take my hand and with your old cold smile you say

This ain’t the end
You may have lost a lover but you’ve still got friends
<>
This ain’t the end
You know there’ll be another but <>…

[Another song that didn't go anywhere, but I've got the melody worked out.]

Alright Tonight

Sittin in a coffee shop,
Chillin’ with your friends
The stories told the laughter shared
You hope that there’s no end
In sight tonight
it’s alright, tonight

Going out goin downtown
Goin clubbin with your mates
You may be all alone
But your pals all have their dates
Bright lights tonight
it’s alright, tonight

[Unfinished song]

Summer Love

When the winter gets you down
And your life just seems a drag
You gotta find something new to hold
And that’s your summer love

Very Last Time

For the very last time you closed your eyes
For the very last time you said your goodbyes
For the very last time you turned to the skies
and said…

Don’t cry for me when I’m not here
Don’t mourn, my friend,
Don’t shed a tear
You gotta stay true to what’s inside
You gotta stand strong and live your life

The Intro

This is not a tale of a hero, of a special individual destined for greatness or different from the herd, or some tragic coming-of-age epic out of Dickensian lore. No, this is a story of Truth, of Love, and, most importantly, of Life and that which of necessity comes along with it.

[I wonder where this would lead.]

The Trees are Crying

And the trees are crying
See the leaves fall down
And watch the sky darken
‘fore the snow swirls round

Yet I know soon will come the day
When the birds are chirping
And the kids all play

’cause the sun is brightest
Just before the storm
And blue is the sky
Before the clouds form

Middle-Aged Slobs

And as I walk to the bus I see all the houses
I see all the men and I see all their spouses
And I see all the boys and I see all the girls
And I see everything in the whole wide world

And as I get on the bus to get to my job
I see the middle-aged men and the middle-aged slobs

[Unfinished, obviously. Again, no date.]

A Life

A staple, chair and two bars of soap,
Some windows, a door – just too much to hope?

A wife and kids and a family,
A little place for you and me.

A Day In The Life

It started with a newspaper. A Metro, specifically, sitting open on a subway seat as we all know Metros are wont to do.

At first glance it was just like any other; a bold headline reporting some silly urban occurance supposedly relevant to the lives of the readers; schlock news and celebrity slag abounding coupled with a far-too easy crossword easily crossed (four minutes fifty-three seconds easy, to be exact).  See, that’s why I paid it no special attention – it was no special collection of recycled newsprint, let me tell you that.

Of course, me being the unathletic bastard I yet prove to be, I skipped right over the SPORTS section (ever squeezed between the seemingly ever-imperative FASHION and ENVIRONMENT sections).  Now, if I hadn’t been so averse to these pages of pure penis, I would have noticed that little manila envelope tucked between the results of Small People Racing Abused Horses and Angry Men Crushing Eachother that would prove so very troublesome in the days to follow.

Anyway, back to work. As I arrived at my station, I stashed the paper in my bag lest I draw the angry stares of commuters fellow.  I disembarked, dove into the typing Bloor Station chaos and swam through the suit-donned sea and went to work.

[Maybe TBC. We'll see. I didn't mark the date in my notebook. xx0608, is all I know.]

Of Mildred & Blandred

THERE WERE TWO GIRLS. This was the early 90’s, mind you – coming out of an era of paranoia and fear society had turned its focus to racism, equality – a world of everybody-the-same-and-unique. These two girls – not twins, actually, though I could see how you’d confuse them to be – were of the names Mildred and Blandred. Yeah. I know. With societal focus on keeping things fair for all, children especially took this to heart and rebelled. I dare say you can imagine how two girls growing up in the 90’s felt with the assholery of children those days and names sounding as if they came out of the Brothers Grimm.

Mildred and Blandred came from a rather shoddy run-down house in the zone of the suburbs placed /just/ far enough away to still be part of the community on paper, though it was That area. You know what I mean. The perpetual feeling of never-quite-safe, neighbours who knew naught of each other which was all do-ya-fine for them. Everybody wanting their privacy and security an air of violence danger chaos in the streets though of /course/ nothing ever happened. Nothing was ever reported or brought attention to, of course. But I digress.

They lived with their mother, a haggard, rather eccentric woman. Note well that I don’t mean eccentric in the urban hipster graphic designer sort of way, I mean eccentric in, well, the evil step-mother meaning of the term. Which could imply that Mildred and Blandred were in a very Cinderella-esque situation – they weren’t. That would imply them to have a certain… /beauty/ to them, which they certainly didn’t have. Oh, they weren’t detestable or ugly by any means – they were absolutely lovely people despite their past – but they certainly were no Helen, I’ll tell you that.

Mildred and Blandred. Hailing from a family of no real money to speak of, no fame no popularity no overbecoming beauty – they were, suffice to say, pretty bloody average. There was no father. No reason for it – not that anybody at school, including the girls knew at least – there just was no father. The girls themselves both had shoulder-length, straight hair, though Blandred’s was just a tad darker brown than Mildred’s, which resembled a field of wheat in the high noon sun.

Thirteen months apart they had the same honey golden eyes speckled with flakes of olive minuscule tendrils branching from the centre of their eyes.

to be continued. maybe.