I had know him from the age of twelve, coming round to watch buffy on a Thursday. I wrote this poem 2 days before his funeral. Woke up and it just came out.
The Gus we know is not gone,
The Gus we know is not gone.
Not the hopeful, happy, cheeky face,
Nor the touselled hair and constant pace,
the sense of running without the sense of race...
The Gus we know is not gone.
Not the hopeful, happy, cheeky face,
Nor the touselled hair and constant pace,
the sense of running without the sense of race...
The Gus we know lives on in this room, in every shining eye,
in every racked sob and foundly thought of time,
in every shared memory and story told of man,
so good and true and bold.
in every racked sob and foundly thought of time,
in every shared memory and story told of man,
so good and true and bold.
The Gus remembered lives on in the beaches of Indo,
The waves of the med,
The Children of Channai,
In Australian baby's father's heads,
The roads of Europe, the american film sets and sand,
so, so many places in this sometimes green and pleasant land.
a thousand million little tiny holes in life that he found
and filled with his love and understanding.
Gus lives on in many lands.
The waves of the med,
The Children of Channai,
In Australian baby's father's heads,
The roads of Europe, the american film sets and sand,
so, so many places in this sometimes green and pleasant land.
a thousand million little tiny holes in life that he found
and filled with his love and understanding.
Gus lives on in many lands.
but we are imperfect and the gus we forget is gone,
we cannot contain his whole,
just the pieces that help us down the road,
the pieces we take with us, tucked so secure and treasured so deeply,
a promise to stay inspired, to keep looking, frequently.
to care, to heal, to listen, to support...
to do the things he can no longer do himself,
we cannot contain his whole,
just the pieces that help us down the road,
the pieces we take with us, tucked so secure and treasured so deeply,
a promise to stay inspired, to keep looking, frequently.
to care, to heal, to listen, to support...
to do the things he can no longer do himself,
The gus we know is not gone.
the gus we forget was taken by a gus I rarely met,
a gus who is in everyone one of us, too.
The dark, the stress, the shame, the raging, angry, dissapointed, let down voice who shouts
“this is bullshit”,
so crystal clear.
the gus we forget was taken by a gus I rarely met,
a gus who is in everyone one of us, too.
The dark, the stress, the shame, the raging, angry, dissapointed, let down voice who shouts
“this is bullshit”,
so crystal clear.
I cant believe 'that gus rarely met' won the argument,
but we all know how twisted reality can get,
how he managed to forget all the brilliance of his life, his love and likes,
swallowed by the blackness like too many of our time,
of this I know there will be more,
but please my friends,
none of us.
No More.
but we all know how twisted reality can get,
how he managed to forget all the brilliance of his life, his love and likes,
swallowed by the blackness like too many of our time,
of this I know there will be more,
but please my friends,
none of us.
No More.
You all must promise one another today that we will not leave this way,
in such a hurry, leaving so much mess,
lets not be hasty, lets not forget.
because no matter how great the stress
of life, look, here we all are now,
as we would have been then, in that time of need,
if he had just picked up the phone and dialed a friend, or sister, mother,
hell a barman would have fucking done it to be honest.
Just long enough to find someone who can
sing you your song when it leaves your head,
and is replaced by something dark instead
Promise us, promise me,
no more waste like this, please.
in such a hurry, leaving so much mess,
lets not be hasty, lets not forget.
because no matter how great the stress
of life, look, here we all are now,
as we would have been then, in that time of need,
if he had just picked up the phone and dialed a friend, or sister, mother,
hell a barman would have fucking done it to be honest.
Just long enough to find someone who can
sing you your song when it leaves your head,
and is replaced by something dark instead
Promise us, promise me,
no more waste like this, please.
We dont want to have to remember, we want him here,
to have a chat over a beer,
to go out raving or some adventure, over the seas
to some land of leisure.
to have a chat over a beer,
to go out raving or some adventure, over the seas
to some land of leisure.
The Gus we know is not gone,
he's in this room in everyone,
The love, the shining eyes, the sense,
the adventure, the empathy, the understanding,
here in his friends,
so lets raise a glass and hug and smile
embed those memories,
stay a while,
build this gus inside our heads,
to keep alive what isn't dead.
To cherish that which is not gone,
to tell his tales and sing his songs.
he's in this room in everyone,
The love, the shining eyes, the sense,
the adventure, the empathy, the understanding,
here in his friends,
so lets raise a glass and hug and smile
embed those memories,
stay a while,
build this gus inside our heads,
to keep alive what isn't dead.
To cherish that which is not gone,
to tell his tales and sing his songs.
Gus was like a brother to me,
in that i'm not alone I see,
so raise a glass with me if you can,
lets say it together, for Gus:
“I love you, man!”
in that i'm not alone I see,
so raise a glass with me if you can,
lets say it together, for Gus:
“I love you, man!”
No comments:
Post a Comment