Dead Tracks

Mike Dickson

have a look around you and tell me what you can see.  

The woods can’t be heard for the trees.  Make me the president and you’ll see how many benefits I will bring to you.  We sang traditional hymns of such moving melody that the lyrics seem almost senseless.  Wander into the seas and tell me what you find under the bedded wilderness that lies out beyond the worst of it all.  I’ll never forget that look on her face as the last of it was thrown together by her father.  Nothing but shame.  If I have any questions then I’ll ask for support from anyone but you.  We all wear the burning crown but never take the responsibilities it brings to us.  Up at the table, the waiters are overly casual in their approach to their policies.  However are we to react to the follies of the indifferent?  No one speaks of the failures of their fathers.  No one is left to consider the crowds of people left behind.  All the structures are lying empty under the black roof that once we called home.  We aspire to be something and someone we are not yet we never carp at our respective failures.  I hear the horn sounding over the river, bringing us back to the land of play and forgetfulness.  We jumble the game and stare into the sun, trying to forget that there ever was a tomorrow back then.  Romatics, all of us.  Look up at the screen and try and describe what you can see through the fixated lenses we have applied to you and all those around you.  The water rats don’t try and run away.  No favours.  With the passing of the long sweeps of time, all that once harboured any meaning has become the acme of meaninglessness.

I look about the crowds and I don’t see anyone else i know.  The corridors through the hotel are littered with the corpses of those forgotten before us.  I never stopped going to parties without the tremendous circumstances being right for all of those concerned.  We cannot mention the shocking discovery made after fifty years of eccentricities from the breed we live around.  Both stupid and dangerous, idiotic opinions don’t dare reach out to the simpering people kept exactly as they were the day they left with the bedclothes still crumpled from the last time they shared dreams together.  We are all testaments to the past we recorded forty years ago, but we don’t care without having any knowledge of the greater antiphonies.  If you think we are finished then you haven’t seen anything else coming close.  Look thee, my friends, on the bright light I phase in front of me and despair.  Sit and wonder about me and the influences I wreak on you.  Bathe inside the wishes of others and take on the dreams of the people before you.  Save us from war and famine, but leave us to enjoy pestilence and havoc.  We are all part of the routine human zoo around us, poking sticks through the bars of our own indifference to find the points of contact between us that don’t exist.  We don’t deserve to be here.  There is no piracy.

There are too few of them in the streets to make any difference to the way in which diseases are transmitted across species.  The war-torn nation has no stability bit bright sunshine is kind to all of us.  Forgiven, we return to the scene of their better triumphs to receive the aggressive approach that they launched against us, leading by example and taking us down to the river again to clumsily take us closer to the end.  Risks often go wrong unless you feel at home around the people who hate you, where you were.  We have debated the future and we have found it lacking in any substance, despite having all our priorities wrong.  I left my promises in the bottom of an upgraded boat which replaced the committed deterrent that keeps our country safe in a dangerous and uncertain world for the future.  Can we jump the gun and make a cruel and ironic cut to people’s support of the waters around the conventional base?  Fifty six voted against the decision to return the common membership into the vast majority of promises that lay broken around its new margin.  We are always too placid for the hermits to pretend they are mermaids.  Elsewhere, the fort is the preferred choice for winning the contract for yard that was black and closed a year ago.  The men are in high spirits again, ninety seven million of them safeguarded to safeguard the vetting to save the investment in a year of bright future who is excited by the opportunity ahead to compete in the fields.  We are at the fast end of leading the quality drive for the commerce facing stiff contests of other designs.  It’s sometimes seen as an industry of the past, but we thrive in the future because we are tough in production.  Your earnest discoveries are approved in reserve for the sorry executive facing charges.  White and green makes an irony beyond any other finale.  We are not harmonious, because I steal from the spirits of past victims of the wilderness around you.  The candle burns brightly in the blue darkness because it doesn’t know any better, lying in wait for me, patiently waiting for me to slip.  There are millions of starving people who care more for their sense of occasion than you ever will because you are never motivated by design.  My life is inside out.  I’m staring through a prism at a lens that reflects only darkness into the brightest luminescence.  There is no truth, really - nothing objective remains after the wine has been drunk and the promises eaten.  This is the business edge of tomorrow, and we are all getting fucked getting there.

Slow-moving, slow-burning and indolent beyond any frisson of delight, I look into your eyes and remember what went before and what must come round again.  Through the aperture we peek, gathering the knowledge of the one-way intimacy you’ll never suspect.  The colour is pink, the feeling is white.  Even in your natural state we can observe and be observed as never before; this is what I was told by the quantic dissonance of tomorrow.  The fevered thud of the music does not let up for even a second, gathered together to remember just how lonely existence can be when there is no benefit to the clergy we sanctify and licence to spirit off our dissatisfaction with numinous plurality.  The clapping of beaks and eyes commences again, mouths open and flap and close, shrill voices somewhere.  Read it once and discard it; tomorrow they will be talking of sunnier futures than you’ll ever know or like.  Listen to Jeanne again and tell me there is no magic without staring into the sunlight as it bounces off the whitened walls of the parish.  Is this your true self or just the party spirit you’ve shown me?  I linger inside your despair and look into your eyes and remember what went before and what must come round again.  Frisson.  Earnest discoveries.  Rectitude.

Cast them not before her but through the streets alive with Syrian gold.  Run through it all again and make recommendations without redaction.  Give in to the glimmer of pity that you’ll feel when you find out my desperation.  The chinks in our armour are founded only on the fork in our paths, whereas the reality lies closer to a million miles of drizzled tedium.  I stare it in the eye and it stares back, absorbing.  Dead eyes.  No movement.  We got all hopped up on the jazz that was coming down thru niggertown last weekend; I’ll never be the same man again after that experience - all of us at the back of the bus, jumping jazz dizzy fandango.  Jitters and quitters.  Up the ladder over the white wall and out into the open spaces beyond.  We’ll never be quite the same way again after seeing any of this stuff.

We fight ecclesiastical battles within the throes of absolute nascence.  The contorted brush strokes stare at me, hiding in plain sight.  The lighting on the stage is stark and bare and invites no one to start the operation, but the procedure begins nonetheless.

We’ve all been subject to shocking criticism, but we never meant to displease more than one grateful midget lost in the innocence of the comedy of the national newspapers.  Vitriol and specific joy are eighteen months of endurance and undermine what we had to learn to own the anger we found to forgive.  We need to keep the past in the past but there is a good chance someone out there knows you.  We are the occasional guardians of the songs we sing as our family members die.  The attention you obviously lack because you’re a smart man having a tantrum in the supermarket aisles of your precocious self-doubt.  Negative feedback quotes the tender years between our respective twin virginities.  If you loved me even half as much as I lean on you then you’d never take me out to that party again.  I shouldn’t even have to ask for that much support from you, but we’ve come to expect too much from each other lately.  To show each other we care we ought to think about sacrifice and the distance that draws us all together.  Nuns never go to adopt the illnesses given to us by noisy Communists these days.  Did he say anything when he turned up, or was it the case that, on arrival he didn't greet you but just took his position beside the control panel?  THIS IS WHAT THE THEME OF THE ENTIRE PROGRAMME IS ALL ABOUT.  It’s more that the symbolism of the event it’s the copy of the event that matters in 1:1 relief.  Transparent stuff you and I will never need, but it mean to be an extension of a thought concerning critical thinking in the midst of a storm.  Hopped up and wigged out, we slide down the waterpool and, screaming loudly, were all shouting and laughing as the last chain went off directly above us.

We cannot know anything, other than the opinion of knowledge.  No mysteries are magic: one afternoon in the library will solve everything with which your inability to think has tied up your mind.  We gild refined violets and throw perfume upon the post-colonial carbon that we all enjoy in our cosmic revolutions around the centre of your confusions.  We don’t care about your myths any more.  Look through the dark side and I’ll see you on the other side of the upcoming light if you’ll only stop that senseless brooding that you do.  Look up at the geese in loose formations, signalling their leaving as the clouds pass far beneath us all.  The car is on fire and there is no one driving us over the cliff any more.  Just listen to the ticking of the clock in the long empty foyer with the voices of the long-departed cleaners clanking their miseries beyond the paper curtain between one side of the mirror and the other.  The alternative to your sorry form of wisdom is almost too much to bear.  My father never came to any of my events and I was always grateful for his time being better spent in the fiery pit of his own undoing.  Does anyone even care now that we have grown too old for this sort of unacceptable thinking?  Coffee cups and discretion between the empty valises makes flailing racists of every one of us.  The worst misogynist I ever met was the tragic leftovers of an epic encore we celebrated when we all had a backstory and none of us thanked each other for coming along because nothing we did ever really worked out, so let’s try again.  This is the horse-trading of 1734 that everyone remembers.

We raked through the bakery bins for stuff they were chucking away, which became something I ate; an accelerant we later used on the supermarket, every day.  We were serene, not once perturbed, not once enraged, never impatient, never idle.  Our industry was the fount of all the good things we did and the little white lies the worst part of the youth we felt.  Never take advice from the broken and divorced guy, but despite the situation I have no idea of her pathology in her disruptive medication.  The wee voice in my ear won’t take advice and isn’t needed, as the wise man attests.  We sleep together and are now prime suspects again; we’ve got nothing other than the attempt to frighten each other.  My associates rushed to load the wagon, whistling, mugging, over-pronouncing.  We rushed into the scene, but the last advice my father gave me was to have a look around you and tell me what you can see.  

The woods can’t be heard for the trees.  Make me the president and you’ll see how many benefits I will bring to you.  We sang traditional hymns of such moving melody that the lyrics seem almost senseless.  Wander into the seas and tell me what you find under the bedded wilderness that lies out beyond the worst of it all.  I’ll never forget that look on her face as the last of it was thrown together by her father.  Nothing but shame.  If I have any questions then I’ll ask for support from anyone but you.  We all wear the burning crown but never take the responsibilities it brings to us.  Up at the table, the waiters are overly casual in their approach to their policies.  However are we to react to the follies of the indifferent?  No one speaks of the failures of their fathers.  No one is left to consider the crowds of people left behind.  All the structures are lying empty under the black roof that once we called home.  We aspire to be something and someone we are not yet we never carp at our respective failures.  I hear the horn sounding over the river, bringing us back to the land of play and forgetfulness.  We jumble the game and stare into the sun, trying to forget that there ever was a tomorrow back then.  Romatics, all of us.  Look up at the screen and try and describe what you can see through the fixated lenses we have applied to you and all those around you.  The water rats don’t try and run away.  No favours.  With the passing of the long sweeps of time, all that once harboured any meaning has become the acme of meaninglessness.

I look about the crowds and I don’t see anyone else i know.  The corridors through the hotel are littered with the corpses of those forgotten before us.  I never stopped going to parties without the tremendous circumstances being right for all of those concerned.  We cannot mention the shocking discovery made after fifty years of eccentricities from the breed we live around.  Both stupid and dangerous, idiotic opinions don’t dare reach out to the simpering people kept exactly as they were the day they left with the bedclothes still crumpled from the last time they shared dreams together.  We are all testaments to the past we recorded forty years ago, but we don’t care without having any knowledge of the greater antiphonies.  If you think we are finished then you haven’t seen anything else coming close.  Look thee, my friends, on the bright light I phase in front of me and despair.  Sit and wonder about me and the influences I wreak on you.  Bathe inside the wishes of others and take on the dreams of the people before you.  Save us from war and famine, but leave us to enjoy pestilence and havoc.  We are all part of the routine human zoo around us, poking sticks through the bars of our own indifference to find the points of contact between us that don’t exist.  We don’t deserve to be here.  There is no piracy.

There are too few of them in the streets to make any difference to the way in which diseases are transmitted across species.  The war-torn nation has no stability bit bright sunshine is kind to all of us.  Forgiven, we return to the scene of their better triumphs to receive the aggressive approach that they launched against us, leading by example and taking us down to the river again to clumsily take us closer to the end.  Risks often go wrong unless you feel at home around the people who hate you, where you were.  We have debated the future and we have found it lacking in any substance, despite having all our priorities wrong.  I left my promises in the bottom of an upgraded boat which replaced the committed deterrent that keeps our country safe in a dangerous and uncertain world for the future.  Can we jump the gun and make a cruel and ironic cut to people’s support of the waters around the conventional base?  Fifty six voted against the decision to return the common membership into the vast majority of promises that lay broken around its new margin.  We are always too placid for the hermits to pretend they are mermaids.  Elsewhere, the fort is the preferred choice for winning the contract for yard that was black and closed a year ago.  The men are in high spirits again, ninety seven million of them safeguarded to safeguard the vetting to save the investment in a year of bright future who is excited by the opportunity ahead to compete in the fields.  We are at the fast end of leading the quality drive for the commerce facing stiff contests of other designs.  It’s sometimes seen as an industry of the past, but we thrive in the future because we are tough in production.  Your earnest discoveries are approved in reserve for the sorry executive facing charges.  White and green makes an irony beyond any other finale.  We are not harmonious, because I steal from the spirits of past victims of the wilderness around you.  The candle burns brightly in the blue darkness because it doesn’t know any better, lying in wait for me, patiently waiting for me to slip.  There are millions of starving people who care more for their sense of occasion than you ever will because you are never motivated by design.  My life is inside out.  I’m staring through a prism at a lens that reflects only darkness into the brightest luminescence.  There is no truth, really - nothing objective remains after the wine has been drunk and the promises eaten.  This is the business edge of tomorrow, and we are all getting fucked getting there.  Later, alone, I watch adults come and go from the shops in short sleeved shirts - there was  reason why they did this, but at the moment I cannot remember what it is because I'm too retarded.  

We sleep together and are now prime suspects again; we’ve got nothing other than the attempt to frighten each other.  My associates rushed to load the wagon, whistling, mugging, over-pronouncing.  We rushed into the scene, but the last advice my father gave me was to have a look around you and tell me what you can see.  

The woods can’t be heard for the trees.  Make me the president and you’ll see how many benefits I will bring to you.  We sang traditional hymns of such moving melody that the lyrics seem almost senseless.  Wander into the seas and tell me what you find under the bedded wilderness that lies out beyond the worst of it all.  I’ll never forget that look on her face as the last of it was thrown together by her father.  Nothing but shame.  If I have any questions then I’ll ask for support from anyone but you.  We all wear the burning crown but never take the responsibilities it brings to us.  Up at the table, the waiters are overly casual in their approach to their policies.  However are we to react to the follies of the indifferent?  No one speaks of the failures of their fathers.  No one is left to consider the crowds of people left behind.  All the structures are lying empty under the black roof that once we called home.  We aspire to be something and someone we are not yet we never carp at our respective failures.  I hear the horn sounding over the river, bringing us back to the land of play and forgetfulness.  We jumble the game and stare into the sun, trying to forget that there ever was a tomorrow back then.  Romatics, all of us.  Look up at the screen and try and describe what you can see through the fixated lenses we have applied to you and all those around you.  The water rats don’t try and run away.  No favours.  With the passing of the long sweeps of time, all that once harboured any meaning has become the acme of meaninglessness.

I look about the crowds and I don’t see anyone else i know.  The corridors through the hotel are littered with the corpses of those forgotten before us.  I never stopped going to parties without the tremendous circumstances being right for all of those concerned.  We cannot mention the shocking discovery made after fifty years of eccentricities from the breed we live around.  Both stupid and dangerous, idiotic opinions don’t dare reach out to the simpering people kept exactly as they were the day they left with the bedclothes still crumpled from the last time they shared dreams together.  We are all testaments to the past we recorded forty years ago, but we don’t care without having any knowledge of the greater antiphonies.  If you think we are finished then you haven’t seen anything else coming close.  Look thee, my friends, on the bright light I phase in front of me and despair.  Sit and wonder about me and the influences I wreak on you.  Bathe inside the wishes of others and take on the dreams of the people before you.  Save us from war and famine, but leave us to enjoy pestilence and havoc.  We are all part of the routine human zoo around us, poking sticks through the bars of our own indifference to find the points of contact between us that don’t exist.  We don’t deserve to be here.  There is no piracy.

There are too few of them in the streets to make any difference to the way in which diseases are transmitted across species.  The war-torn nation has no stability bit bright sunshine is kind to all of us.  Forgiven, we return to the scene of their better triumphs to receive the aggressive approach that they launched against us, leading by example and taking us down to the river again to clumsily take us closer to the end.  Risks often go wrong unless you feel at home around the people who hate you, where you were.  We have debated the future and we have found it lacking in any substance, despite having all our priorities wrong.  I left my promises in the bottom of an upgraded boat which replaced the committed deterrent that keeps our country safe in a dangerous and uncertain world for the future.  Can we jump the gun and make a cruel and ironic cut to people’s support of the waters around the conventional base?  Fifty six voted against the decision to return the common membership into the vast majority of promises that lay broken around its new margin.  We are always too placid for the hermits to pretend they are mermaids.  Elsewhere, the fort is the preferred choice for winning the contract for yard that was black and closed a year ago.  The men are in high spirits again, ninety seven million of them safeguarded to safeguard the vetting to save the investment in a year of bright future who is excited by the opportunity ahead to compete in the fields.  We are at the fast end of leading the quality drive for the commerce facing stiff contests of other designs.  It’s sometimes seen as an industry of the past, but we thrive in the future because we are tough in production.  Your earnest discoveries are approved in reserve for the sorry executive facing charges.  White and green makes an irony beyond any other finale.  We are not harmonious, because I steal from the spirits of past victims of the wilderness around you.  The candle burns brightly in the blue darkness because it doesn’t know any better, lying in wait for me, patiently waiting for me to slip.  There are millions of starving people who care more for their sense of occasion than you ever will because you are never motivated by design.  My life is inside out.  I’m staring through a prism at a lens that reflects only darkness into the brightest luminescence.  There is no truth, really - nothing objective remains after the wine has been drunk and the promises eaten.  This is the business edge of tomorrow, and we are all getting fucked getting there.  Later, alone, I watch adults come and go from the shops in short sleeved shirts - there was a reason why they did this, but at the moment I cannot remember what it is because I'm too retarded.

Mike Dickson, Edinburgh, August 2015