From Michael <Verbaud at comcast.net>
Verbaud alias comes from Verlaine & Rimbaud.....Verlaine watered the crazy child flower
who wrote for 3 years and disappeared as well.
I wondered what happened to the
lead singer after Piper. Then I heard...somewhere about 69 or so.....
The Kid has always lived in my heart. I am but 4 years younger than he
was. So, even as he came through a few dreams several weeks ago, even
before he dropped his weary body....I sat me down and wrote to His
heart from My heart. ...Then I heard....so it goes...
break my heart. I've been reading too many tales, and studying too many
stories, lately. Somehow, I have survived to tell a tale or two.
Chats and PopWorld are too full of tales of fame and money and flash.
The best and truest hearts in my whole life whispered to me at 3am.
They may have been a star for a moment, like my sweet sad Syd Barrett,
or they may have been a hustler on Polk Street in San Francisco or a
stoner on Eastern Avenue in Baltimore, or a kid from London with a few
heart-rending songs. They may have murmured in their sleep or
shouted a dream from a rooftop.
laughed until dawn on Tequila or Shrooms or Acid, we freaked out
together, We smoked and giggled, we sat in dark rooms full of incense
and listened to Pink Floyd and George Harrison...we divised plots to
save the world, we cried at weird movies, we fought, we hated each
other, we slept together, we imagined unimaginable beauty......
We reach out even now through all the fog of our daze passed.....
I watch American media, I wonder.....does anybody out here even have a
CLUE as to who awaits the piper of dawn....who cries at 3am....who is
terrified by even the thought of violence?
I hold every wonderful naive dreaming heart that has ever crossed my path. I can only sing love songs. This is who I am.
Be a Lover. Stay alive for lovers. Stay
alive for every dreaming kid that tells you a story. Be kind. Be patient. Be loving. Live in the World of Forgiveness.
We are so wonderful. We are so powerful. Hold on tight. Reach out.
been watering the flowers in Syd Barrett's garden for so many years, I
cant remember when my tears didn't flow for flowers that may yet bloom,
that he may never see....
I am only one little cell in yer Mucker's heart.
I know nothing else.
I know nothing else, my buds.
Water the flowers, lest they wilt and die from inattention.
We are all we have.
We are all we have.
There are so many Diamonds in the Rough out there.
Feed the Sparrows who sing to you. Be Kind to Dreamers, they are such fragile,
I ever were to find myself in Cambridge, England, perhaps I would
scatter a few seeds of Hummingbird or Butterfly Flowers in Roger
"Syd" Barrett's garden....perhaps one day he may look out
and see some sweetness as it gathered for a moment in his sight.
Maybe he would smile, and think, "Oh, look at that"
Seeds planted sometimes take a Generation to bloom, blossom and grow.
I could be the butterfly or hummingbird in his sight, or a gentle
breeze on his brow in his sleep, that gave him a moment's Joy or Peace,
that is all I would ask of our strange, inattentive, seemingly cold
I would only wish to
whisper in a Dreamer's ear, there is still Beauty, there is still
Kindness, there is still the Dream you sought, my sweet , sad gentle
I will celebrate Mr.Barrett's
forgotten dreams for as long as I live.
"Let not the morning sun dry the tears of your fellow
that you can dry tonight with but the touch of your finger"
when the news came, my heart was so touched and so sad. Another Dream
Weaver is gone. He didnt even know the seeds he had scattered.
Every day and every night, I sail with my gentle dreamer
Every day and every night....
Sail on, my Bud.
Now I can pray TO you and not FOR you.
I bid you Godspeed
Love, from an ole Mucker in the Fog.