Variations on Box/Byron/Hensley


 Confession - by Rex Stocklin 

Ahem,
Confession: Birthdays start to pile up after the big Four Oh. We begin to feel like Rarities from the Bronze Age. When we're young we begin to Wonder, world where have all our Dreams gone. Do You Know this Circus is not Wonderful. All My Life I've tried to determine where I shoud Head First, you know, What Should Be Done. It hasn't been an Easy Road over these last Two Decades. I know that I come off as some Innocent Victim, all High and Mighty. Think that of me, go ahead, I Won't Mind. That's The Way That It Is folks. I'm not fishing for Sympathy. So Save It if you think this Very Heavy (Very Humble, I'm trying to be) and very pretentious. I'm just lamenting "oh youth's dreams, Why Did You Go? You've Been Away Too Long, Come Back To Me!" And just claiming "Here Am I, and this is What's Within My Heart, I should Celebrate! I wasn't Born In A Trunk, ya know.

But I ain't no Wise Man. Just don't feel the Greatest. Hits me with Tears In My Eyes. When I take out the ole Birthday mirror I gaze and say "Rex, Look At Yourself, Pilgrim, see all the Raging Silence at the wear and tear on your Love Machine from your Gypsy ways. How long has it been, A Year Or A Day? " Then as I drift of to thoughts of my imagined Paradise, The Spell ends. But that is usually a Time of Revelation, enough to make me get Suicidal, Man! I think "We Got Wee hopes to hang our hats on. I'm trying to Stay On Top of my emotions.

Sheesh, aging is the great Equater. As age works its Conquest on us, we'll be farmed out to the porch of some retirement home, providing leg Power To The Rockers, wondering "Who Needs Me?", while we Weep In Silence.

Life, huh, I thought it would all be all like yearly gifts of champagne wish, caviar dream, but it's mostly been Salisbury gravy, King Biscuit, Flour: Our Presents. One Day I'd like to Return To Fantasy , but I know that being On The Rebound is just a Beautiful Dream seen through Misty Eyes. But I Wanna Be Free and One Way Or Another I'll Keep On Trying, because I'm So Tired of being a Prisoner of no Easy Livin', growing old while time keeps showing a Blind Eye to the years wearing us down like some Bird Of Prey. If I Had The Time, I'd proclaim "Wake Up, Set Your Sights, It's Time To Live". Then maybe then Poet's Justice would Rain on we Dreamers. One shouldn't have to Sell Your Soul for Sweet Freedom. That's a ploy ot the big, bad Fallen Angel. I know, he's kept me Chasing Shadows Of Grief (Plus, I was as turned backwards as Le d In black. Woe, man Of The Night! Woe, man Of The Whirled senses!) and Echoes In The Dark until the Sunrise came on the Other Side Of Midnight like some Magic Lantern, then it looked like a Different World in that Sea Of Light it cast off. What with The Shadows And The Wind that went Rollin' On out of there, I felt like Stealin' on out of there myself, not wanting a return of that enemy and his Running All Night, With The Lyin' and all. That closest of thiS heaven's Stars brought his Show down and made me realize that "I'm Alive!" You should have seen the Fire fly. It was Something. Or Nothing, depending on your viewpoint or if you are as confused as The Wizard on The Magician's Birthday.

Old Fartsters, Think It Over, It's Your Turn To Remember. Whadya' Say, Let's hear The Best Of y'alls Tales. Yes Sir, call Of Hands? This is an open call to all age-Weakened Warriors. c'mon, sir Farts you are not alone, there'll be no more Lonely Knights. Let's get this memory-Reel Turned On! A little Walking In Yore's Shadow never hurt anyone. It is good, not bad and as you recall your historical Footprints In This, Know this! You Can't Keep A Good Banned Down. Lessee what noise we can Make, A Little? Love to hear from ye! Why? Because of all this graceful aging BS. *Sigh* man, The Bull, it Freaks me out, man. Makes my bowewls all Loosey. Blues overwhelm me. Life should be Free 'N Easy.

Whew, thats the feeble best I could do (plus I'm missing the later Heep catalog issues, so I was at a loss of (title) words.

Well it'll be a good birthday anyway.

"Don't cry over sour grapes!",
Rex Stocklin

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Updated 08/11/97

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