Monday, January 28, 2013

There Are No Words (only thank yous)

i asked yourself when you said if you loved me, do you think this can be real....hell is for love and heaven is for astronauts
 so i don't seem to see it at all real
the church door half way opened like a giant ruby scented ring
 the white mural of hymns that you are straining to sing. 

you  painted on me, painted ideas as you and all these constant strangers do, yes you are  just as naked as tires, each and every one of of you and on the glossy rained out roads
roads that go on and on and on needing to be told ....screaming for your return like the rose does its thorn... your shadow touches your blackness and blankets you as your cover, winter is cold, its born
 but not here, there is no other lover
makes the
heart told 
i know my eyes and the love is gone....and then you come
you come again
the lover inside whose bleeding the lover whose flame begins 
yes, darling I hear your vocals and winter is my love too and I wish I had a river 
to conjure and skate or fly straight back to you  

words © wendy rose watson 
thank you to 'the diary of ic explura' for allowing me to share this sacred moving picture 
there are no words...only thank yous 

Sunday, January 27, 2013

An Interview With A Ghost (or something like that)

white noise...okay... wind noise
abandon all hope...
what difference does it make?
just surf rumble...
seasoned professionals have time on their sides, no?
i happen to think they got this touch gun approach..but what do i know...

im not into anything
im not going to a press conference

proof that there is always a way, if you can but find it...

sometimes you have no choice but to go where the action is
make all the authenticity into a creative part of the plot.
talk about skyscrapers, the gale wind force, narrate the dodging of onions

content rich conversations ~ and he didnt understand so fuck him
be prepared before, during and after the interview.....keep a line out and stay open....
you just never, ever know what the universe will send you...sometimes blood roses
then sometimes an alabaster dove 

what i suppose i wanna say really is .... is it you that wants to be taken seriously?
or is this just another one of those sort of emotional weather reports?
well...she grinned....what is it that you want me to be?
there was a long silence and then we stared at each other....i never looked up into her eyes and i it for protection, charm or business ventures there was and is a katha which can be summoned and I knew that. she might have known that too but what do i know? 

i know that i know how to do this as its just a way of life for me....she, the one will also fail and succeed and feel the same...she knows her name..not the history of the beatles or her zen name...but her name and so i write this letter and i go and i go...and i go one knows whose talkin to who here or do they? and just for a moment she seemed to know

if you’re not into transforming stuff into art  just don’t worry about it  just  keep doing it and keep doing it… oh yeah she said that, oh yeah she said that, not me.... and then somebody said that once before, maybe it was's in you too but you all lie in a superstitious fear 

why? why don't you just stand tall with our art nation?

do not be afraid
you are supported
as long as you stand
right here
right now 

words © wendy rose watson

Friday, January 11, 2013

The birds are calling ~ The birds are calling ~ Fuck YOU. 'ONLY THE BEAUTIFUL ONES WERE THERE'

Only the beautiful ones were there...
Fuck YOU the US of A for your passage into my righteousness
Fuck YOU men who are dying and think you will live longer if you love me in your way
Fuck YOU for expecting me to be of another time, with the times, or just out of time
Fuck YOU with our long honeymoon~ there's no money back guarantee of future happiness
Fuck YOU for never really seeing me
Fuck YOU for never really knowing me
Fuck YOU for expecting me to write you a  love letter that your wife would surely disapprove of
Fuck YOU and your ego, your thoughts of me as I am not on some sort of highway
Fuck YOU as i can hear the sound of the highway right now
Fuck YOU you love me, too
Fuck YOU
Fuck YOU
Fuck YOU ~ have we met before? have we met on some glossy worded path where we stopped like deers in our tracks...
YES.... we did, you ignored that...
Fuck YOU
Fuck YOU
Fuck YOU

Monday, January 7, 2013

You Painted Me On Your Door

My room is in the trees ~ I remember me and in the morning painted on your door, you call...if I could follow I would, follow for some more. Oh, these songs about traveling ~ lookout for spring... my darling. Look out for spring, look out for spring, yes you are my darling and you have said these've painted me on your door.  

I would write these lyrics without a care in the world, I would dance with you be I a boy or girl, I would. I would write these lines, they wouldn't trace my face, oh no. I would write these lines and lie down with you in this race, I would. I would take it off, this silvery top of chiffon...I would, I would take it off lie down like the swan I would. For you....Oh just for you...I would but this blood on my fingers keeps me from the truth...I would and then you painted me on your door. 

Words © Wendy Rose Watson 

Sunday, January 6, 2013


if there was someone i could just step outside with...someone whom I could converse with outside while smoking a fag, someone that understood where i was coming from right at this very moment and then also later in the day...that...that would make this better....whatever 'that' whatever 'this' is. ~

Words © Wendy Rose Watson