Death Is My Best Friend

Death is my best friend
We get along just fine
He wakes me in the morning
And he tucks me in at night
He sits there like a butterfly
In the corner of my mind
Death is my best friend
He's always by my side

Death is my best friend
We talk and love and laugh
He sits there on the toilet seat
While I'm lying in the bath
He lights up like a firefly
And guides me on my path
Death is my best friend
Death's my other half

An Apology For Double Posting On Facebook

I'm sorry that you are annoyed by the same post coming up twice on your feed from two different pages on Facebook. I feel the same way. "Ok, so you're playing in some bar a thousand miles from where I'm sitting and I have to hear about it twice? I probably wouldn't go if you were playing in the house next door". I know, I know. I promise to try and minimize the double posts and just go with the flow until the cyber world rights itself, as it must. Of course I'd prefer to have one page but the internet is like some horny a-sexual monkey that just keeps mating with itself and spawning new ways of spurting information all over the place, I gotta keep up. Of course, you could just say, "I like Freddie as a person but his music stinks and therefore I shall only be his friend on his personal page" or "I hate Freddie as a person but his music...." you get the drift. All I'd say is that the person and the music go fairly hand in hand, so don't hasten to judge and please forgive the annoying double posts while they last. Because, really, who's to say? On one side I have Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj telling me I'm the supreme causeless source of all being and on the other I have strangers telling me I'm a cunt. Go figure. Bliss Bliss! Freddie.

'Rain' by Edward Thomas

Rain Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon: But here I pray that none whom once I loved Is dying to-night or lying still awake Solitary, listening to the rain, Either in pain or thus in sympathy Helpless among the living and the dead, Like a cold water among broken reeds, Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff, Like me who have no love which this wild rain Has not dissolved except the love of death, If love it be towards what is perfect and Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint. Edward Thomas

'Dawn' by Zbigniew Herbert

Dawn

At the profoundest moment before dawn, the first voice resounds, both
blunt and sharp like a knife stab. Then rustlings growing from minute to
minute bore through the stump of night.
It seems there is no hope at all.
Whatever is struggling for light is mortally frail.
And when a bloody cross section of a tree appears on the horizon,
surreally big and almost painful, let us not for get to bless the miracle.

Zbigniew Herbert