Lyrical Inspiration

Hanging onto promises and songs of yesterday (line from Here I Go Again by Whitesnake).

Think about that line, think about it really hard. It’s a description about a lot of us. It certainly is a fine description of what I have been doing on a daily basis for many, many years. You do the best that you can, you hope for the best results in return. You go with the good intentions of doing well on a day to day basis and keep your fingers crossed that the shit don’t hit the fan and that stuff doesn’t fall down on you. After all what we can hope is to do the best of our abilities.

So we go by our day and do what we can and then come back home and we do the stuff that we like & love. We listen to music – and the best songs that stay with us are the songs that we have been listening to for a few years. The songs of yesterday. The classic rock songs, the power ballads, the arena rocker – big riffs, guitar solos, drum fills, bass lines and keyboard melodies. The songs that mean the most to us. The ones that we start smiling and fist pumping as soon as the first riffs are heard. And we are happy and filled with hope for tomorrow.

And we go about our jobs the next day, face the challenges and then come back home. And then there’s more music. Hanging onto promises and songs of yesterday – perfectly fits my life!

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The Old Man & The Morning

The old man woke up early just as the first rays of light hit his city. These days sleep wasn’t a good friend to him at all despite his advanced years. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a good 5 minutes. For a while he thought about going back to sleep but he knew that it would be in vain. Slowly he pulled himself from his bed and headed to the bathroom. He took his time and washed his face and brushed his teeth. He would then walk slowly past the sleeping form of his wife on their bed and go into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. While the water boiled he stared at the outside world through the kitchen window. A baby cried and was quickly pacified by it’s mother. Instinctively the old man thought back to the years he spent as a young child with his own mother. His mother who passed away a few decades ago and all that remained of her was an old photo.

He took his cup of tea and made his way to the living room where he laid the cup down on the dining table and then went to get the newspaper. Not that he would later recollect much of what he read in the news but it was a sheer force of habit of reading the newspaper along with the day’s first cup of tea – a habit formed when he was in his 20s and  50 years later he was unable to change it. So he sipped his tea; strong, no milk and with very little sugar and he read the papers. He spent a good hour going through the various articles. A war here, an accident there, someone calling out for a ruling head of state to resign – pretty much an normal day of news. He closely watched the obituaries for any news on people he knew and of his age passing away. There were none but he always thought when his day would come and how it would be to read his own obituary. As always, the mere thought of it made his chuckle.

He then put the paper aside, pushed his now empty tea cup to the middle of the table and stared at the outside world from his living room window. He thought of the years when he was full of youth, vigour and worked hard to make his way up the ladder. He thought of all the success he had. He wished in his mind if only he could relive those days. He remember better days, the birth of his children, the achievements and the accolades. He thought of a time when he had it all and now he felt that he had very little. He once had money to spare and now he found it tough to get by. And that’s why at his age he still worked. He knew what some people thought but he pushed the thoughts away from his mind. Isn’t it hard to keep at it after all these years? It didn’t matter. He still had to fight on. There were bills to pay. He wouldn’t give up now.

Just before it was time for him to wash his cup of tea and then take his bath, the old man let his mind drift back to those glory days of his and smiled. He could almost grab onto it. He wished for it again. If he could only stay back and day dream. However his wife would be waking up any minute now. And so the old man picked up his cup and went to wash it. Another day is just beginning.