play with your name across my lips.
how i imagine what is just beyond my finger tips.
oh, to get close enough for one sweet kiss.
tell me what am i supposed to do?
with all this love that I have for you.
i am just a crazy, love sick fool.
there’s a good reason why I try and hide
that you’re the moon that pulls my tide.
it’s cause she’s the one on your mind.
so i keep it all inside.
sweet baby tell me what am i supposed to do?
with all this love that i have for you.
just call me a sad, love sick fool.
i wish you knew all this love i have to give
that even what is bruised and broken still burns to live.
and still reaches out for you in the end.
tell me what I am supposed to do.
when this love I have for you
that burns true…
sometimes i think about brushing
your beautiful long lashes with my finger tips
and wonder about the taste of your full red lips.
would you smile when i let down your hair
and ran my fingers through the long dark strands?
what would it feel like to hold your hand?
and if i took you close
to slide you beneath me
would you be mine finally?
sometimes i wonder about you.
I don’t think I’d make a good reviewer. You have to have the ability to write critically and I just don’t have the skills. But, I’ll tell you Susan’s cd is exceptional. ..so here’s my amateurish review.
In Outerspace, songwriter Susan Gibson has found a cd that is travelling in the same direction as her unique personal style. Using skillful and mature variations in the delivery of each song, it stands out like the songwriter herself, being unique in some ways and traditional in others. Her second solo effort is packed full of a variety of styles from country to folk to simple down home roots-rock. She’ll even tell about her Methodist rap song in her introduction to “No Fair”, sure to come with “potato chips sprinkled on top”. With the addition of some ethereal qualities like the ones found on “Still Time”, it is suitable to represent the title, Outerspace. She is even bold enough to experiment. While it is not this reviewers favorite result, she gets points for keeping true to her own creative vision. This is her most collaborative project to date with cowriters like Jim Lauderdale, “Happiest When I’m Moving”; Randy Scruggs, “Upon Re-entry” and others. A live version of “Wide Open Spaces”, penned by Gibson and made one of the most recognized country songs of all times by the Dixie Chicks is included.
whatever, i tried.
Here there is no history of mine.
I relinquish all that I was and let it drift away on the waters of this river.
There is history in all that surrounds me I guess. But I prefer the present.
Moments triumphed by nature.
A swift breeze, the sound of water over rock,
lazy locusts and croaking frogs.
If I listen close, I can hear the trees whispering.
They tell me to leave my hurried life and live among them.
It’s hard not to find solace in their gentle persuasions.
The bird song scolds me for reflecting on my city life…
for allowing it to crowd my mind.
Cities do not give humans room to move freely
anymore than thoughts of cities give the mind room to think freely.
Instead I want space and room to penetrate this place with my body,
to dip my hands deep within this earth
and play among the roots.
I want to slip over the trees skin for skin
And, lastly, I want to melt into the water and drift away from myself.
I am watching the Indian Runner. The movie, inspired by a Springsteen song, was written and directed by Sean Penn. I think springsteen and penn could be the same person.
It is a starkly beautiful movie shot in the early 90’s but has the very feel of a movie crafted out of 70’s style cinema. There is an extraordinary collection of odd characters as well. The socially inept pink lady is a priceless detail.
In thinking about it, I tend to be attracted to those characters who are both beautiful and dark. Who are in constant conflict with their internal tenderness and the ghost that haunts their very soul making them crazy, mean or both. They are always adored and feared equally by the ones who love them.
What is frustrating to me is that I am unable to write one of my own. There is no clear way I can realistically demonstrate the conflict or the melancholy or the tortured internal struggle. And moreover, I do not seem to have a genuine way of showing human fallibility without trying to justify its existence or explain it away. I want to and I have tried over and over again to create someone I believe in. Always unsuccessfully.
I love the soundtrack…especially that Jefferson Airplane song. It just puts me in a mood.
I saw you. I saw you, coming back to me.