The Hardcore Trobadour sings another song.

Clockwork Heart

Clockwork Heart

“I have nothin’ but time
And this poor heart of mine
Probably could use some rest
When the ghosts are all gone
You can leave your light on
Shinin’ through the loneliness
Just like a beacon in the night
Brighter than any star in sight”

-Steve Earle-

I often quote Steve Earle. But that’s for good reason he says things and writes things and sings things that are better on their worst day than most other people do on their best. He’s just my Mojo and at his wise and crazy heart I kneel before like a novice waiting on some wise and sage morsel. And boy don’t he just have a hopeless heart. I am in that with him too. Hardcore Troubadours we are.

See I have been having these dreams. Lately they’re strange and wonderful and occasionally carnal. But mostly they’re about love, searching and beauty. In fact I dream about cats every night and I looked up cats in one of them crazy dream dictionaries and cats are suppose to represent women, they’re sexuality and possibly their deceit. And these dreams always have a woman in them I don’t know but I do love. And lust for. They are dreams and I guess celibacy and focus on the spiritual is not bullet-proof. Those thoughts creep in on me when I am I am sleeping. But mostly it’s love. And each time it’s a beautiful kind of spinning and turning. And if there’s any symbolism in the dreams I am still as much a hopeless romantic as always. I guess awake I am just sore and guarded.

There’s a feeling I get that wants to be there again. To feel that rush and go off on that crazy tangent. To want to be that close to someone and to need someone. The gentle presence of a woman does something to a man. It softens him and makes him walk in the world with an easier stride. And when he really loves the woman he’s got next to him he just sort of shines like a campfire that’s burned down to just the right warmth and light. The kind that you sort of just look into and feel a calm. A sort of Zen. The night and stars over you and the trees around you and the love inside.

All that is an incredible thing to aspire to. But my reality is that I am a crazy machine with a clockwork heart. And I have been burnt, bent and turned every-which-way. And the women in my past have been hurt by that and in good faith and conscience I can’t do that again. And well there is the truth too that they have done some things too, things that make me cautious and gun-shy. But mostly I just have yet to meet one that stands tall and strong. One that does what they say when they speak of loyalty, love and strength. One that doesn’t bend in the wind and one that will stay through the night when there’s no light to be found. Who’ll be there when the dawn breaks. That one who understands that love and the walk through life is easy when romance is in full bloom and the weather is fine. But when it storms and it’s cold outside and there’s nothing but a stubborn heart and a real inner strength, when the words of grace and romance are the last things on their tongue. They stand up just as straight and soldier on. That’s real love man. That’s the love that counts. Any teenager with raging hormones and a decent CD collection can make that flashy and sparkly love. It’s the mature heart and strong back that lasts the whole game through. Even that terribly static and flat place where the day-to-day is mundane. That’s a killer for weak of heart. They ill-advised who don’t understand it isn’t always victory parades and fireworks. It’s in those humming, droning days that the seed grows and the strength is built. Hey man it’s like the lady said “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden.”

Ah but to be in love….Isn’t that something? Yeah it’s all there is in the end. God wasn’t skimping when he made us and he was serious as a heart attack when he made love. I think he made his greatest creation there. Probably muttering at the same time “This will either give them heaven or show them hell. Let them choose well.”

troubadour
Hardcore Troubadour

Girl, don’t bother to lock your door
He’s out there hollering, “Darlin’ don’t you love me no more?”
You always let him in before now didn’t you
He’s just singing the some old song
That he always sang before
He’s the last of the hardcore troubadours

Girl, better figure out which is which
Wherefore art thou Romeo you son of a bitch
You’d just as soon fight as switch now wouldn’t you

He’s come to make love on your satin sheets
Wake up on your living room floor
He’s the last of the hardcore troubadours

He’s the last of the all-night, do right
Stand beneath your window ’til daylight
He’s the last of the hardcore troubadours
Baby, what you waitin’ for

Girl, figure out what you’re gonna do
When he moves on again and he leaves you alone and blue
But you knew he is just passin’ through now didn’t you
And now you can’t just say this is the last time baby
Like you always did before

He’s the last of the hardcore troubadours.

-Steve Earle-

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