Table of Contents

• Home
• Introduction
• Where Goths Come From - Neef
• The Watcher - Hobbes
• The Resurrection Shuffle - Barbarella
• Cassandra - Cosey Mo
• Drunken Old Bastard - Sandro
• Alcohol - Trayce
• Shadows - Entrippy
• Entropy - Kage-Ryu
• Is There A Point - Trajik
• Whispers - Kitsune
• Confessional - Sandro
• Garden - Entrippy
• Radio - Cam
• Cold Spell - Nikolai
• Slices - Neef
• A Bottle of Something Strong - Jraff
• The Light Fades - Tim
• Rain - Tim
• Self Help - Gothic Gallae
• Cato - Trajik
• Addiction/Fragment - Trayce
• Heal Thyself - Nikolai
• Shattered - Hobbes
• Travelling Song - Solitaire
• Distance - Stranger
• Legacy - Stranger

Solitaire don't need no steenking bio, eh?

Travelling Song

How many times have I done this? plaited fresh travelling feathers through my hair and walked away? I'll leave you my old ones - perhaps you will find wings for them now. "Move over sun and give me some sky, I have found some wings and am learning to...." In all the time I had that picture on this wall, I never noticed that you had finished the line - I always thought you had left it open, but now I see it ends in the blazing sun. I had thought that the word was a pattern, now I see that the pattern is a word. Out of date love letters, tied together with a red ribbon. I found it again, while washing my jeans, so I tied it around your letters. Do love letters go out of date? I see you shake your head - "I never say goodbye....". Time and change, time and chhange. The red has faded, the edges frayed. Every time I untie it to read your past posted pain, it gets a little harder to tie it back on. One day, perhaps, it will prove impossible, and what, I wonder, will I do then?

I leave a note on my door for those who care to read it - two words. Gone Travelling. It will be enough. Now that Whiskey has returned, I must depart, her travelling songs have ruffleds my feathers and I must be elsewhere for a while. So I don my blue raincoat to hide my wings, and I leave. Tomorrow I will wake to a redhead and a babydyke, my new family, and I already know they will disappoint me. A bag and a guitar complete my travelling kit - I have moved out.

I have returned to my home town, having sworn I never would. Too far East of the river, and nowhere near the ones I love. But it is a house on a hill, and it has a redhea, a babydyke and a cat, and who could ask for anything more? It is large enough, and warm enough,a nd has a porch and a bus stop. Poet-traveller am I, seeking sometime solace in this city of my birth. I'm constantly amazed that I keep returning to this place. Every time I think I'm purged, I find myself turning again. I'm not even sure that I want to be here, it's just that how could I leave the back wall of that house, where I first met Tashia; or the front porch of this, where Xia and I played; or the steps of our school, where I have fallen for generations of little sisters, both my own and others. Here is my heart and love, from the verandah at the yurt with it's memories of Max, to Jinki's sunroom. These are my windows on this, my own world, these are the gateways that mean the most to me. This isthe stuff of ultimate porch songs. Songs of the edge, songs of the eternal child-of-the-self who stands basking in the light of the fear of the cold outside, yet grasping firmly the door to the comforting home. So much of my life has been like that, I remember most beautifully times on porches, verandahs, back steps, all gateways real and metaphorical between experience and innocence. This is my song, a travellers travelling song of moments held precious then given away, borne aloft on hopes and prayers, feathers on the breath of whatever gods still love you...

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