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Nothing (one​-​track single, Derelict Roller Disco Records, 2019)

from Nothing (one​-​track single, Derelict Roller Disco Records, 2019) by Thom Whitworth & Blue-John Benjamin

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about

Thom's campervan guitar . . .
Blue-John's seaglass, singing and plastic sax . . .
Quidgybopper's smoke and reverb . . .

lyrics

Nothing

Are science and religion not rooted
in the same question: How can Something come
from Nothing? And here is a possible
answer: There is no such thing as Nothing.

“It’s all too easy to imagine an
empty box,” you say. “Isn’t that Nothing?”
No, Nothing can neither be pictured nor
unpictured; emptiness is not Nothing.

There is never Nothing—never was nor
will be—for Always, there is Something or
there are some things, such as the building blocks
of earthly life, which came from what was once

an Everything, with no shape, no size, no
space to occupy. One Everything that
split, folded in on itself, and blossomed
light, this moment, and, amazing to me,

you,
there in your raincoat, thinking me a fool,
your eyelashes heavy with summer’s-end—
the moist air between us hazed by woodsmoke,
my friend.

Nothing can neither be felt nor unfelt,
but emptiness is another matter,
held, as it is, inside things left unsaid.
Everything leaves no room for expression—

no space, no time, no illumination.
To make way for comets, dust, a heartbeat,
a deep red sky, and the freedom to be
gripped by love, Everything must break apart.

“Don’t we all go back to Nothing?” you ask.
No, what we were will be transformed into
Something different—a new beginning
of sorts. Facing death is not a problem,

as long as it’s my own; the thought of yours
delivers a leaden chill to the bone.
Your words shiver, dusk enfolds your body,
and I say absolutely Nothing to

you,
there in your raincoat, thinking me a fool,
your eyelashes heavy with summer’s-end—
the moist air between us hazed by woodsmoke,
my friend.

credits

from Nothing (one​-​track single, Derelict Roller Disco Records, 2019), track released October 25, 2019

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Blue-John Benjamin image

Blue-John Benjamin Whitby, UK

"We put the boot in - flew the freak-flag;
We stood resolute like Morrissey’s quiff."

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