Heard the news today about David Bowie. Honestly it was such a shock as I had no idea he had been sick. The comfort is knowing he was surrounded by his friends and family and passed in his sleep.
Thank you, David; for all the music and the movies….and the memories.
So far, I have worked out numbers 10 and 9….but 8…well, 8 happened to really help me, I suppose. A song that makes me recall a great personal loss. Struggling to understand how we can be given a gift and then have it taken away. Not all the songs in this list are going to be cheerful ones, but as it is the song list of my life, then this one must be included.
Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven.
“Tears In Heaven”
I must be strong
And carry on,
‘Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven.
Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?
I’ll find my way
Through night and day,
‘Cause I know I just can’t stay
Here in heaven.
Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.
Beyond the door,
There’s peace I’m sure,
And I know there’ll be no more
Tears in heaven.
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
‘Cause I know I don’t belong
Here in heaven.
Ever have those times when you are driving along and a song will come on the radio and just take you back in time in your mind? Like an emotional trigger, you find yourself thinking of people, of places of when you first heard the song. A movie that I thought captured the ideal was probably Forest Gump, where the music was just as important in telling the story of Forest’s life. If I could build a playlist of my life through music, I am sure that the top ten songs would be from those important family moments, or even the world events that happened at the time.
Sadly for me, the song that stands out in bringing an emotional response, relates to the death of a beloved Aunt. I can’t help but burst into tears whenever I hear it. Both for the lyrics, and the memory of losing someone that I adored from cancer.
~RB~
The visions on the screen haunt my waking hours
People suffering in so many ways, so many places
It’s hard to fathom it all
My heart cries and my voice shouts at the screen
The world is mad, I tell myself
The compassion and humanity I yearn to see, replaced by desensitization
What ever happened to the Great Australian nation?
Men in suits with agendas that have nothing to do with the chaos
Twisting their words, spun into grand ideals that bare no fruit
When did the public voice go unheard?
Even the average Joe knows dropping bombs won’t solve a thing
It’s a war that no one can win
This song gets me every time. The lyrics I can just feel as though they are sung to me. Always at the low points in my life, I play this to remind me that one day there will be no more sorrow.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be
And when all the brokenhearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Yeah, there will be an answer let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, yeah, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be
And when the night is cloudy
There is still a light that shines on me
Shine on until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Yeah, let it be, let it be
Let it be, yeah, let it be
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, yeah, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom
Let it be
I want to believe
In the words they say
The promises they make
The plans they lay
But everyday
You get a different view
The people are now
So very confused
We want leadership
Someone to admire
Someone to trust
But the dreams
of the people
are turning into dust
More talk of war
Less on equality
Less on love
All I see now
Is the death
Of the white peace dove
“A Royal Affair”
Razorbackwriter:
Approaching one of the balcony’s of the grand stone building, Lady Dominique now had a perfect viewing platform for the great castle of the King. As the breeze teased her red curls, that fell down off her shoulder, she let out a soft sigh. The King was up there, probably in his grand chamber. No doubt surrounded by his adored children. The Prince and Princess. Already she had seen those in the streets and in some of the grander houses sporting black garb. It was like they couldn’t wait for the King to take his final breath. It actually sickened her to the core. Dominique knew how much the King loved colours. She could remember his voice, as though he was standing in behind her now. Resting his hand on her shoulder so that she might clasp her hand over the top of it. One of those private moments, that she held deep within her heart. Their relationship would cause massive scandals if it were to be revealed. Of course, all believed him to be a good and devout King, and he was….he just had a taste for red heads, and one in particular. Dominique dragged her fingers along the harsh surface of the stone railing as she kept thinking of him. What made her heart ache even more was…he had not called for her. Why? The bastard child of his brother, his niece….his lover. That is what she was, though to society she was regarded as a business woman and a lady of great wealth. Oh, the King did help start her off, but she discovered the ability on which to read people. To seek out those that could only enhance her wealth and stature. Now she had enough gold, enough houses to rival any Duchess or Baroness. Her dead husband gave her nothing but a name. She had bore no children, and probably never would. There were secret desires to carry the King’s child, but she knew that any child that was of his name, would be a bastard and most likely killed by the Prince.
Since her husband’s untimely death, Dominique had a line of suitors a mile long. For one, her beauty was well spoken of, not to mention her vast wealth and connections. She should be happy to receive tributes and proposals daily, but alas she was not. Dominique couldn’t bring herself to love another man. The King had her heart from the moment he bedded her and stole her virginity. What would her cousin, the Princess have to say about that? Thankfully, neither of her cousins knew. Both the King and Dominique were careful to hide their affair from prying eyes. The only one that knew, was Tim – her man servant. A eunuch that she had bought on a trip to the east. He had served her faithfully and loyally as she treated him with a respect she held for few men. He was more than a slave, more than an adviser. Tim was her eyes and ears beyond the Market walls. The juicy tit bits that he brought back to whisper into her ear, was worth its weight in gold, and helped her to manipulate certain situations, that might turn scandalous, if she had not gotten involved. Everyone had a price, and Dominique was more than willing to buy a few souls in order for her to gain more power and influence. A human she may be, but a devious and crafty one at that.
But what is wealth when the one thing you want most so desperately, lay just out of your reach? Green eyes filled with sadness as she stared up at the black flags that had taken over from the royal crest. Another sign that the King was dying.
“I should be there.” Her voice wistful and full of regret.
“My Lady, if you were would you be able to mask your true feelings from prying eyes. The royals are not stupid.”
Tim came up behind his Mistress and looked upon her fondly. Her soft silken dress lifting and dancing in the breeze like gossamer wings. A beauty standing in her ivory tower – ever longing for what she can’t have. Tim exhaled softly as his Mistress gave no response. She was thinking….she was always thinking. Lady Dominique patted the stone rail, then turned towards her man servant. His heart near stopped a beat to see that she had tears in her eyes. Lady Dominique De Shay never cried. Not even on news of the death of her husband. That time….she laughed. Odd how emotions react in such strange ways.
“I envy them, Tim. They are probably sitting on his bed right now, taking his hand. Listening to his words.” Dominique’s head shook slightly as she reached up and wiped away a single falling tear. Rare was it to see this soft underbelly, from what was a ruthless business woman. It was just then as she realized what she had said, that she suddenly grit her teeth. Sadness quickly changing to anger. Her eyes were still cast down, but her small hands were curling into fists.
“So swear it if he dies before I get to tell him I love him …..” Her words trailed off as Tim reached out to touch her arm, to try and help her through this. Dominique pulled away and snarled. “…their house…will be cursed.” Did Dominique even have it in her power to do such a thing? Tim drew his hand back and bowed his head as Dominique turned her head back to the direction of the castle. Lady Domi raised her head proudly, her chest swelling as she strengthened her resolve.
“I may be a bastard child…but I was loved by a King.”
~RB~
I felt them
Heard their voices
Watched their tears
Travelled through time
Shared their fears
But now they are gone
And I can’t get them back
Am I emotionally devoid?
How the hell did I lose track?
Silence
My cries go unheard
The world simply stopped
Blackened heart….ruined
The loneliness is crippling
I would give all to return
Yet…it is my fault
I left them all to burn.
~RB~
Scene setting: Elissa’s Apartment – GS.
co-written with VunG.
VunG: Oh, the precious feelings of the after-glow. For the first time in what felt like ages Elissa could feel her barriers lowering; here the real world couldn’t touch them… they were away from it all. It had been far too long since she experienced a moment like this, where she could just take to someone like this and embrace. As they continued to kiss, her hands roamed a bit, straying down to his backside, lightly feeling and testing his wonderful body. Even if this wasn’t love, she felt absolutely enraptured by this wonderful intimacy.
As he took her cheek, she gladly looked back into his eyes, relaxing and searching him, trying to figure out what thoughts were going through his head. She, for her part, didn’t think that this was love… yet. She had felt this sensation before, her husband and another man on the force before him. The latter never progressed beyond a physical relationship, but she always cared about him as a friend, even now that he had left the city she kept in contact with him. This was something that could become love, and she had no issue with that, but at the same time it could just be the warmth of intimacy.
She too was aware of the day beginning, but she was in no hurry to let get the day get going. There was nothing she knew of that they really needed to do, unless Tommy had work, and while she definitely needed to get clean, she couldn’t shower proper for a few hours yet so it was something she wanted to put off as long as possible. She was perfectly fine just staying here with him, perhaps just snuggling, perhaps going out on a proper date, perhaps showering together, perhaps watching movies, perhaps making more bed music. To her the outside world wasn’t so much tearing away at their little world; it was laying siege, but she had more than enough food to last for a while yet.
And then suddenly Tommy said something that completely threw her off-guard. He was falling for her. She blinked with surprise, looking down and to the side in thought, trying to figure out her own thoughts. She… wasn’t quite there for him… she definitely cared for him, she wanted to find out if she would fall for him… but she wasn’t there. Still, she supposed they’d find out what this was in time. She didn’t talk in response, but she returned her gaze to him, a soft smile appearing on her face as she shrugged lightly. She didn’t want to crush his spirits, hurting him was so far out of her desires it may as well have been in China, but lying to him was something she also didn’t want to do. Regardless, she intended to try. Slowly she leaned back in and kissed him, softer this time, but still with a great deal of passion.
Razorbackwriter: Tommy had said what he felt in his heart, the problem was he also wasn’t thinking. The words blurted out like he was a love struck teenager. But that is not who Tommy really was. Was it? It didn’t take much to see that Elissa was totally caught off guard by Tommy’s surprise admission. The truth of her feelings came not from the soft smile, but that gentle shrug of her shoulders. To Tommy that was a sign that she didn’t know how she felt…..but she didn’t feel the same. That single moment was like time had slowed and Tommy found himself now in uncharted waters. He closed his eyes as she moved in to kiss him again – still with that hunger. The passion was there, yes.
But it was just sex……..
Tommy reciprocated and kissed her back as he tried to put douse the feelings. He was a fool for thinking that this was love. He was a man for god’s sake. If Tommy could have slapped his forehead and cursed he would have, but instead he just held her. The wandering of his fingers came to a slow stop. Tommy drew back and then shrugged his shoulders too, before placing a finger tip on her nose and pressing it lightly. Rolling back he pulled his hands so that they would be resting behind his head – staring at the ceiling. No amount of words was going to fix what he had said. If only the world could swallow him up.
~RB~
Scene setting : Back streets of New York.
co-written with Chor.
Razorbackwriter:
Taking a cab across town, Frank stopped at a curb side flower stand. Paying the driver, he got out of the cab and then went to buy two roses. He handed over the ten dollar bill and took the two long stemmed roses from the florist, who asked if they were for the detective’s favorite lady. Frank coughed a laugh as though he might humor the florist into thinking they were, but he was too shy to say. The truth however, was far different. Taking out a dark pair of shades; he placed them on and crossed the street to the alley where Rory…was killed. Looking up and down the street and seeing no one that he knew, he walked down the bin lined small alley all the way to the last place where he saw his best friend and his partner alive.
There was no blood stain, no evidence of a man having died on this spot but to Frank it was burnt into his mind like it was yesterday. Kneeling down, Frank placed the two red roses on the ground – crouching for a moment as he said to himself a silent prayer. His right hand came up and partially touched his lips as though to stop himself from blurting something out that may be heard. You never knew who was watching. Eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, he paused there for a good two minutes or so, before slowly rising up to standing. He gave the area one last look around. A large lump formed in his throat as he fought to suppress the wave of feelings that were ripping through him.
Then without warning he screamed.
“WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE TAKEN ME?!”
He was answered only by silence.
~RB~
Chor:
Isa still had barely snapped into reality as she pushed her small wad of cash through the dirty, clouded slot to the bearded cabbie with teeth like jelly bellys. He tipped his hat and turned, waiting for her to exit. Yes, exit. The worn, cool door handle made a click as the door unlatched from its body and she exerted just enough force to make herself leave the vehicles warm interior. The cabbie rolled down all the windows, for no other reason than to shout inaudible advice and wish her good luck when she closed the door gently behind her.
Smoke clouded the road behind her, some of it billowing up to her nostrils, where her lungs lapped it ungratefully. The poison, though, was ignored. Her focus rested solely on the man at the flower stand. He bought flowers, a gesture Isa didn’t quite understand yet. She let her gaze follow him until he was just nearly out of sight and then she walked.
“Care for a rose, dove?” The florist sang to her, his voice sweet like honey. A thought appeared. Isa wondering how many years it took him to perfect such an inviting and charming tone. She looked at him, eyes lightly narrowed, and nodded. In his hands he held not a red rose, nor was it of any colour. It was completely devoid of and vivid variation of the rainbows skeleton hues. White. Such a pure, simple thing, she felt a knot in her stomach just gazing upon it. Maybe this was hunger, but she felt this pain differently, in a more emotional sense. She gave him all that he asked for and caressed the rose as she headed off in the direction Frank had disappeared a moment earlier.
After a short minute that felt like a century of never ending searching, Isa almost died internally, thinking she’d lost him. If he was truly to disappear, she might never get the chance to finish this. Across the street from her, a voice was found. The voice ripped her soul to pieces, shattering her well-built nonchalant disposition. Why couldn’t you have taken me? Isa’s brain exploded with memories of Claura, small tears beading in her eyes and traveling the distance of her face to fall onto her jacket.
Every single day for days, months, even years, Isa asked herself that question. She would have given anything for it to be her instead of Claura. Her older sister was taken from Isa and she cried to herself every day that she would one day figure out what had happened. This man’s pain was tangible as she absentmindedly crossed the street. She was quiet coming up on him, holding the white rose in her right hand very lightly, as if just by breathing she might ruin the innocence it exuded.
Then, as if suddenly a rope was removed from her throat, Isa spoke,
“I’ve learned the walls don’t tell you what you did wrong; why you’re left and they’ve gone. They only stare back as you bitterly retreat into yourself. They sit silently as your tears turn to acid and your life falls to shambles.They don’t whisper that there was no suffering; there is no reassurance that everything will be okay. Nothing is okay, because I’ll never know.”
Isa tiptoed to Frank’s side, crouching to lay the ethereal white rose atop his two red ones.
“I’m so sorry.”
Razorbackwriter: ~The Day you went away~
Frank’s body was practically rigid. He had not expected a voice. He had not expected her. Behind the dark shades his pupils dilated and his chin wobbled slightly as he fought back the tears. Men don’t cry, right? For so long nothing made sense. Like a white rat trapped in an endless maze with no way out except the lonely nights at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. That numbed the pain, if only for a short time. He could forget it all, and even who he was. But sobering up brought him back to the stark reality and the cycle would begin again. Isa was right. Frank had retreated into himself. The former family man, loving husband and dedicated detective – partner…all that was a bitter memory now. He was a shell…an empty vessel. Sure, he could be funny and make you smile, but within himself he found so little to smile about.
Why was it he could hear the deafening sound of his own heart beat, as though it was right in his ears? Why was this ache twisting his very insides? Frank blinked a few times to quell those tears as he heard Isa say she was so very sorry. As she lay a white rose beside the two red ones that were now resting together on the ground, Frank brought his face around to see Isa’s. For a moment, his face was like stone. Mixed emotions were hard for a man to deal with. He had told her to forget him. To let him walk away. Yet she followed him here to this…most sacred of places. It was where Rory’s life ended….and in a sense, Frank’s as well. It was the reason for the two roses. One for each of the two men.
Frank turned his head away for a moment and coughed, as thought he words he wanted to say were caught in his throat. The detective sniffed loudly – a sign that he was racked with emotion.
“I’m…..trying to make sense of it all. How one single moment can have such a terrible affect on every other facet of my life. If I could go back, if I could….” his voice trailed away into a soft whisper.
When Frank went to look at Isa, she would see a face that had stared back at her on many a day and night. That same sorrow, etched into the lines of his face. Loss, regret….guilt. We can torture ourselves far worse than anyone else ever could.
~RB~
Chor: Raw; the only word that could describe this moment. The alley was filled and overflowed with pure, unadulterated, raw emotion.
Isa stared into Franks eyes as if his face were a mirror in which she saw wholly herself. It was impossible to look away, now, as the emotion sucked her up. This black hole she’d tried so desperately to hide behind her antisocial, dark, and cold facade now leaked out of her; her pores oozing this deep sadness that she never let seethe light. Isa’s hands came up to meet Frank Malone’s face and pulled it near hers, so that their foreheads were almost where skin met skin. Her thumb reached to where a small, ashamed tear had escaped and wiped it from his kind face.
“If only is a suicidal lullaby; it’s a flame, it is all consuming and it will kill you if you let it,” she whispered seriously to him, her words accented with sternness. The words she spoke were truer than most likely any she’d even spoken in her days on this planet. Isa’s months of ‘what if’ s and ‘if only’ s had taken her down to a level she hoped to never reach again. As she spoke these words, liquid bubbled in her tear ducts and the tears threatened revolt against her now dry cheeks.
“The journey is not yet over; you must be strong for him,” Isa persuaded, pointing at the roses as they sat wilting slowly on the filthy alley floor.
“And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.”
Razorbackwriter: How long had it been since he had felt the gentle touch of a woman’s hands upon his skin? He couldn’t even remember. But in this moment where both Isa and Frank were kindred spirits – both having loved and lost. Frank was practically transfixed by Isa’s words. They were comforting in a strange way. Those nights where he had taken sleeping pills and drank a sizable amount of vodka all in the aid of never waking again. You could call it a low moment. A time when he had lost all faith. It was friends like Tommy that was always there when he was at his lowest. Offering him a helping hand. They fought like cats and dogs half the time, but the mate ship….that was true.
Frank let his head fall into Isa’s hands and then their foreheads met finally. He could smell her sweet scent permeate through his nostrils as he closed his eyes and simply let himself be held. Was it a sign of weakness to give in so easily? To not fight her off and walk away from everything? No. For once in his life Frank listened. This girl was wiser in her years than any other he had met, and while they had not ever been seriously close before, they were soul mates of this moment. Sharing a bond through loss. The journey was not over. She was right. Frank, was trying to lay it all to rest as he was about to leave once and for all. Beaten. But Isa, in her inspiring words roused in him the spirit that he had thought died long ago.
“And if you truly believe I’m going anywhere, you’re dead wrong.”
Frank raised a hand and removed his glasses so she could see the glistening of his eyes as they captured her own. Lifting his face from her hands, he then leaned in to kiss her forehead. Little did she know…..she had just stopped him from doing the unthinkable.
“Rory would have loved you, you know? Always had a thing for stubborn gals.” A hint of smile tweaked the corner of his lips.
~RB~
Chor: Isa watched as his face told tales of his brain. He was reliving dark nights, as she often did, reminiscing unfortunately on hours spent pondering over mathematical equations to see just how much potassium chloride it would take for a woman of her height and weight. Isa’s mind justified these almost self-mortifying moments as she daily starved herself of both food and of human interaction for no other reason than to bury herself in her work as completely as a tick. Alcohol was the least of her poison intake. She was never really a drinker; that was Claura.
Finally, the rigid statue that was Frank melted into Isa’s embrace and in seeing his eyes she knew she’d stopped him from making a grave mistake. As she looked, though, she now saw understanding where there was only pain. The chains which bound him for so very long had retreated from their death-grip, allowing him breath and clarity. The kiss to her forehed was warm and kind and the thanks that came from it diffused through her skin and lit her aflame. The tears that followed in her own ducts came as he spoke. A light chuckle accompanied it as she looked to the ground to let the tears go.
Isa couldn’t dispute his words. She was stubborn, born with a drive that saw no end in sight. Without a doubt, Claura would have adored this man. Save for Frank, Claura may have been the only good cop in the whole station before her disappearance. They would have made a great team; maybe unstoppable. Isa now can only hope to do this for him. She’s not a cop, granted, but she is far more helpful in many other ways.
Razorbackwriter: It was only at the end of his own tears that Frank was able to see clearly that his words had a marked affect on Isa. She was crying. A flood like release of her own that had Frank tilt his head slightly. Both of them had been keeping all this sadness and longing for understanding tied up within themselves that neither had had the chance to grieve what they had lost aside from those they loved. Themselves. It was almost instinct what Frank did next. Unexpectedly, he kissed away the falling tears that burnt her flesh. His lips tender to her cheeks till all the tears were gone. It was a gentle action, one that was probably saved for a lover. How he hated to see a woman cry. Even though these were tears were long overdue.
Frank wrapped his arms around Isa gently and brought her in for an embrace, his hand moving to the back of her head as he stroked her head gently. Allowing her to nestle her cheek to his chest. It’s surprising how something like a hug can bring us such warmth and peace. It was instinct. Natural and needed.
“Some tough cops we are. Heh.”
His words were not poetic or romantic. Just saying the first thing that popped into his head.
For the first time in ages, a real smile was on his face. Not forced, or painted. An inner warmth was spreading through out him. Isa would yet to realize what she had done for him. The roses lay upon the dirty ground at their feet, and already the wind was starting to peel back the petals. Frank had just let Rory go. Now it was time to save himself. Releasing Isa slowly, he said.
“Never thought I would be fighting crime within my own office.”
~RB~
razorbackwriteraus 