Archive for September, 2014

Excommunication

I try to talk and words come out a quote;
No matter what I say, they are not heard
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

So much we spoke about, so loud we wrote;
That you won’t hear me now seems too absurd.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

Your tired voice just tells me that you’re sad,
Your letters, bleak, polite, and not deterred
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

Remember all the moments that we had,
Now what is left, reminds me of our flirt.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

I’m reminiscent, while black clouds afloat.
Regretfully I feel your words, they hurt
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

We both are dwellers on a different road.
It’s time to move, just speak and say the word.
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

Writing

Surrounded by the necessary tools:
A screen, a keyboard to write down my lines
And knowing that from now on grammar rules
I pass the hours in a sort of trance.

It is the daily dance, the bleak routine,
In which us writing fools think lies our fate,
We must create an interesting terrene;
The rest of life is only there to wait.

Surrounded by a screen and knowing I
Must pass the hours in a sort of trance,
I dance and lie my fate in bleak routine.

Ageing

Openings in greyish skies never seem hopefull,
These bottomless ponds between islands of clouds,
No one should want to get lost out there.

At night at least there are stars,
Down here the lights of cars keep moving.
When all is dark, we are lost so we feel

As then, in the black of eternity
We are ourselves too much, we then know
Whom we have become, that we should be adults now

But already a flickering of neon,
A buoy to reassure us chases off the hungry bears
So we breathe on, relieved. Children once more.

Malapropisms of the mind

A slender thought escaped the morning dew
Spread across the meadows and the dunes and you
Stood there, you almost sensed the meaning of the Earth.

A truth came down from demarcation lines,
Early airplane stripes made warning signs
As here is no escape from what we’ve done.

Mistaken for a cloud, the lines declined,
Leaving you malapropisms of the mind.

Flotsam

A wave moves higher up the beach,
Water splashing round our feet; you cry,
With every jump you prove yourself that you can fly.

Above us clouds are moving in opposite direction,
I try to find your hand, but you’re too far.
A wave moves higher up the beach.

Some seagulls come quite near us, curious
Like children we wonder about shells,
With every jump you prove yourself that you can fly.

Away we are, away from what has kept us lonely.
No need to go back to the car and drive from here.
A wave moves higher up the beach.

North Sea darkness where no sun shines.
Flotsam and jetsam, we are home here.
A wave moves higher up the beach.
With every jump you prove yourself that you can fly.

Reality

Discussing reality and what is true,
‘It all is an agreement,’ so you say:
‘What goes for one, a bloody lie to others,
If I claim love is red, now would you disagree?’

‘It is not up to me,’ I answer modestly,
More modestly than you might have expected,
‘If you claim that it is, then let it be.’

‘But love is not,’ you say. ‘Love has no colour.
As all love needs is clear transparency.’

I change the way I sit and try to find justifications
To much enforcement of my case.
I know I never win it from your strange argumentation
So I just kiss you to put you in your place.

The blushing in your face is evidence enough.
Reality is what we make of it and so is love.

Best view

Now we have rearranged the furniture
there’s a different view that does surprise us.
We watch the neighbour as he rises,
he sure looks mean (maybe a murderer?)

We have a sight on traffic overspill,
unexpected visitors and mail.
They can not bother us with their assail;
we hide in time under the windowsill.

But from my new position I can’t see
the worry lines I always find in you,
the greyness of your eyes, or is it blue:
all what still makes the best of views to me.

Let’s move and shift the old stuff back in place;
I only want to see your lovely face. ❤

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Dreaming of you

Maybe dreams stay for a while for entertainment only,
a sharper version in our memory follows us through the day,
its colours more a fact, with a name for each of them
and while time passes
the dream bends more towards reality
then by nightfall
what is left of the dream
– a vagueness, thoughts, no longer disturbing –
goes into oblivion before new creations are made.
The night makes up stories with good reasons
though every version has you in it.

Away

Because the tiredness, the weariness, the worries get me down
I want to dream away in words and sounds I like to hear,
make up the scenes I want to be in, floating on in distances and time,
and only when tomorrow comes, I shall give up this fantasy,
if it has not caught up with me, and ask you if you’ld care to join
in warmth and quiet, yellow light and whispers from a tender voice,
such dreams would be my choice beyond reality, there is a place
where I would rather be, much rather be than in this tiredness
that’s getting much too wearily.

There would be flowers and a storm at night, a sea that battles with the land,
a lonely seagull crying sadly over wasted lives, this fighting would not put us off, the rain making us stronger and the cold more close together, we would go through every weather
finding new ways to find whom we are, and you would never be so far away from me,
because the tiredness, the weariness and worries get me down
I want to dream away in words and sounds I like to hear.

Remaining

Words you said silently still live loudly inside me,
you are a lodger never paying rent.
You did not leave me the day that you went.
I still see you, in obvious signings:

Birds you once fed that keep landing on my shoulders,
songs start, out of nowhere at all,
the sea still moves in your rhythm of lines.
You float near me, in candle’s thick breathings.

When people part they sometimes blend,
becoming more of one another.
So you remain. I sense your presence everywhere
in words you whispered. I shall bleed my pain.

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