He said:
- If I would aim a gun at you and told you not to move, what would you do?
She said :
- I would move
He said:
-Why would you move?
She said:
-If I would keep still , I would be your slave.
He said :
- But you could be hurt or even killed.
She said:
- Why would I want to live if you can aim a gun at me?
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Moon
Moon*
As you borrow your light
from sister sun
who tries to warm you.
*
You need the darkest night
to let moonbeams run,
to whom is beneath you.
*
My path is bright
and you the kite,
to guide me,,,
to where my love will find me.
*
*
*
Sunday, March 6, 2011
My hands grabbed you handled you with hunger and passion,
violently turning your pages,
to see, to learn, to find word after word,
entering boldly, embracing the worlds you painted!
-
My eyes devoured your lines,
deeply entranced, captured by your magic,
feeling like a queen , a witch, a pirate captian,
sailing the seven seas, discovering treasures.
-
And I cried with you, hot tears marking my cheeks
which you soaked up as nectar coming from the gods
and you became battered, worn out,,,,
-
You held me hostage, near the end.
Then left me hungry for more,,,
-
I thank you,my books,,,,
Saturday, October 30, 2010
who?
What did you do?What did you like to
look at? Did you
wear white or blue?
Who's eyes met yours
and was the white
stone your choice?
Your name is carved
so much bigger than
his, as if he needed to
to see it there forever.
Were you taken too
sudden, abrupt from
the one you loved?
Did your world look
dark as the tiny twigs,
your broken stone
rests on? Or did the
sun mock him on
the day you left ,,,,
Who were you, Sweet Julia ?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The move
Picture within a frame, closed in as her view became.
All directions blocked, not by walls but by the sheer endlessness of countless open roads, too many to choose from. She walked those paths before but they looked new. She had so little time, she needed to go somewhere, to find something she lost.
But every time she tried another one, all excited, expecting to find old friends; she kept returning to the crossroad where she got lost. She found herself holding the empty frame and the pain in her chest almost killed her, over an over. Untill there was no more pain as she stepped over the threshold into the bubble. The frame kept her illusions safe and her mind captured.
Memories, detailed as black and white photographs, visited her and lingered, made her world a sweet dream that was real, embracing her longing, her searching and she escaped willingly, for a while, longer each time.
There was the red brick stones that felt warm against her smooth skin, when she watched the sunset over the creek and the pinetrees. There were the dew drops on the ivy, stubborn and sneaky, creeping back across the bedroom window, in spring. The laughter of her son, the heavy bark of Fellow, announcing visitors. The summerdays,,, the sunglows, the turnsoles, the daisies,,,she so loved the bright yellow. She never liked the roses, proud and posh, but they were his and so she bowed to them while she poured water on their roots. Their heads turned as to follow her as she walked away, but she didn't see,,,
There was the picture within a frame, of cotton sheets bleached by the autumn sun; sheets on their bed, all wrinkled and smelling of him, lit by the moonlight, looking at her.
She knew she couldn't stay, they didn't have to tell her, although they tried, gently, with soft loving words.
The crowsnests inside her head made the thoughts fly in and out, brought forgotten moments and got her lost in time. She was tempted to stay, so often.
Life had not been easy, but it was now, with all those silly little things that made her smile.
She saw his face, touched it eagerly with both hands and called him by his name.
"Robert" she said " You didn't shave, but there is still time, I will get you soap and water." "Robert, why are you crying?" as she didn't see her sons face with his fathers hazelbrown eyes.
She walked through the empty rooms of their home, caressing the smooth surface of the kitchentable and smiled at the red curtains where they had that arguement over. Maybe a part of her knew that the walls were bare and that she wasn't holding her lovers hand,,,,she preferred her dreams as she saw the world within the frame, only.
She left there but she took the frame. She was happy.
Daisy
Too late for the magpie but still,,,I dedicate it to the picture !
She felt warm and cosy for weeks, immersed in darkness although she didn't know that this was just the absence of light. She didn't care, didn't think; she just was. Yes, there was a strong feeling of being. She swam while she grew, very comfortable.
Then there was the sensation of touch, as subtle as a caress of butterfly wings on flower pedals. She wasn't alone!
Overjoyed and intrigued, she stirred more, stretching as a starfish, sprouting limps, reaching out. Overcome with a feeling of wellbeing, she moved on the tide, floating side by side and by side and by side.
The space they shared became smaller; walls, however flexible, closed in on them.
So many of them, wriggling, shoving, bumping into each other but somehow she knew there was her and there were the others. She sometimes curled up but more often pushed and poked to secure her spot, her own, determined to stay. One obstacle next to her didn't shove back...
She sensed movement inside it, a vibration that soothed her more than the rhythm of the other moving ones. She tried to make it budge for a while then she kept close to it and often held it. She used it to push the others back.
Suddenly the urge to push free became imminent and she began to struggle, instinctively she knew the direction towards to move. The walls contracted violently and the panic around her made her crawl back. But the body beside her, her comfort and solace was in the way!
For the first time the friendly lump seem to become an enemy not an ally. She tried however to cuddle up to it and felt the reassuring vibration so she stayed.
One of the others slid past her and then another,,, and yet one more,,,the one she held on to, for so long, did not. She was puzzled; she didn't want to leave it but she knew she would have to.
A cry welled up inside her and she pushed,,,,pushed as hard as she could; there was more room now the others left.
It moved with a sudden jerk and she followed it happily. She knew there had been no choice. She was not leaving it behind as it was hers.
" I count three, Dad; you think that's all of them?"
"I'm not sure, Peter, she's still at it, she might take her time with the next one."
The feeling of wellbeing returned. The pressure stopped. She was tired and in a way sad. She realized she missed out on something, a chance, a wonderful thing that should have happened.
And then she felt something move and knew it was him; her energy floated back and she jumped, turned around as to face her mate. They touched as for the first time, twirled slowly around, rubbing against each other and moving together ,,,they shared a dance,,,
" See, Peter, she's got more."
"Oh look,, Dad, Dad,,,there are two more,,two together,,,oh, they are so beautiful!"
The first feeling was freedom, the second one loneliness. She tumbled, felt something stroke her, hard and wet,,,,felt the sudden cold and cried. She got picked up, got scared, wriggled almost free,,,
" This is a feisty one, Dad, look, she is so beautiful!"
"Put her down, son, let her mom keep her warm"
And there he was, her buddy, she recognized him and held him.
There was more, something else to cuddle up against and there was, mmmmmmmh,,,,and she forgot all, sucking mothers nipple.
Days passed while the darkness changed in a pinkish light. She didn't care, she was happy.
Her buddy was bigger than the others and now, he was the one that pushed so they could feed together.
"You think they can see me, Dad?"
"They should about now, Peter, we'll leave the top door open, so they'll get used to the light"
"Won't Ally leave them Dad?"
"Not yet, she knows son, they need her close"
Then there was light,,, and there was a smell of unknown wonders. She didn't cry but yelped with joy and so did her brothers and sisters. The one beside her, the big one, didn't.
So she nudged him and bit his ear. He let her.
"They are so beautiful eh Dad? They are perfect! But I still like Daisy the best."
"They will be great dogs, friends and companions, Peter, all of them."
"I still like Daisy the best, Dad."
"Ok, we'll keep her, the big one needs a name too, the others we will sell, in a while."
"Ok Dad, I'll think about it."
Oct 20;2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Rain
Rain
Pear shaped clear crystals
shatter away hidden dreams
water falls, curtain !
C minor low drum
monotone droning tune
continuity
Grey clouds ban sunlight
thunder blacks out wavered start
crushed in the bud
Still ,,, after the rain
Fresh thoughs wake, new dreams are born,
lavender sented,,,
26 09 2010
Pear shaped clear crystals
shatter away hidden dreams
water falls, curtain !
C minor low drum
monotone droning tune
continuity
Grey clouds ban sunlight
thunder blacks out wavered start
crushed in the bud
Still ,,, after the rain
Fresh thoughs wake, new dreams are born,
lavender sented,,,
26 09 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Where the wild things are.
And then it starts;
He knows it is coming, unavoidable and as sure as the tail follows the mouse.
It begings with a low grumbling, somewhere in the back, increasing in volume at first; a race care rounding the curb, then settling for just the sound of a soft but constant snoring.
It is almost like it is not there, but as an old grandma knitting in the background near the furnace who seems not really a part of every day life; it is however determined to stay.
Then the pitter-patter starts, a thousand little feet stamping like ever so tiny army boots on a wooden stage, millions of spiders marching under a war flag or equally the same amount of dripping taps, one drop at the time, just a nano second apart to get more impact.
It perfected its ways as it has been this way before.
And that is the base; this is just the wallpaper, blotted and peeled, stained with hazy but dark brown spots, might be blood, still even NCIS wouldn't be sure.
It is the background of the scene; now the real show starts.
As the monotonous humming, toning down to the sound of a constand far away thunder, starts to ease him mercifully; a sudden extremely bright carbide flash tears the velvet darkness in to a blinding no-colour, into nothing, even the shadows get sucked out, no sight, no marking points except the constant droning of the snore tapdancing staccato with the dripping drops of the broken taps.
The first flash disappears leaving that sickening green purple reflection but before the healing dark sets in, it's back and it brought mates. Together they work up a crescendo of hot rods of pain poking in to weak unprotected, naked flesh.
They don't go all off at once like Chinese firework that can not wait to stun the public. No, as timing is everything when you go for effect : Dark! Light! Dark! Light! Confusing the hell out of him as if he is a fly walking on a neon lighted zebras back.
As the pain sets in, he buries his face in his hands knowing that the worst is still to come.
He moans like a child, fearing the screams will take over as soon as,,,
There they are! The faces!
The horrible twisted mouth laughing like mad, showing him a deep dark gap between the crooked brown teeth! They come closer,,, and he can't move! They are attacking from all sides, going through him; images scraping at the darkside of his eyes, drauthing pictures of skulls with worms and leftover molted apple sauce, with white bemossed ten days old baby carrots and green corn flaoting in a drab that foams and bubbles, coming at him wave after wave.
The horrid painted faces with big ruby puckered up lips mouth in slow-motion the most horrible words. The laugther that doesn't reach the blankety blank red eyes! Out of the grey tanned heads sprout fingers that turn into claws penetrating his stomach as long sharp rusty needles, probing, hurting, turning him inside out.
And the smell! Oh, God the smell! Sewer pit smells, rotten eggs, sour milk, and tastes that he only recognizs because he has been here before.
But it is worst this time! It's the end of his world for sure!
Foul air, one stinkin gulp after another, overpower his nostrils, torture him.
The wild things are fully ignorant to his cries of woo, only obeying the law of consequence which is molted into stone and beyond his powers. Relentless as the hammer of Thor they smash into him with an ease of a continuous night summers beach breeze that caresses the pale sand.
He tries to outrun it but the horrors are inside him; plucking crescendo at his intestines, playing the big drum ochestra low in his back and going for the all out final of a orange and gold firebold lightshow unseen since the beginning of time.
He can not escape; he has to endure the wild things, that keep him in their graps, momentarily, untill it is over once again. He knows his eyes will look upon the soft cream of his bedroom walls where the sunlight will color golden specs to make life all light and easy to bear.
And while he waits,,,
He vows on everything that is dear to him, that,if he survives,,,
He will never drink again!
He knows it is coming, unavoidable and as sure as the tail follows the mouse.
It begings with a low grumbling, somewhere in the back, increasing in volume at first; a race care rounding the curb, then settling for just the sound of a soft but constant snoring.
It is almost like it is not there, but as an old grandma knitting in the background near the furnace who seems not really a part of every day life; it is however determined to stay.
Then the pitter-patter starts, a thousand little feet stamping like ever so tiny army boots on a wooden stage, millions of spiders marching under a war flag or equally the same amount of dripping taps, one drop at the time, just a nano second apart to get more impact.
It perfected its ways as it has been this way before.
And that is the base; this is just the wallpaper, blotted and peeled, stained with hazy but dark brown spots, might be blood, still even NCIS wouldn't be sure.
It is the background of the scene; now the real show starts.
As the monotonous humming, toning down to the sound of a constand far away thunder, starts to ease him mercifully; a sudden extremely bright carbide flash tears the velvet darkness in to a blinding no-colour, into nothing, even the shadows get sucked out, no sight, no marking points except the constant droning of the snore tapdancing staccato with the dripping drops of the broken taps.
The first flash disappears leaving that sickening green purple reflection but before the healing dark sets in, it's back and it brought mates. Together they work up a crescendo of hot rods of pain poking in to weak unprotected, naked flesh.
They don't go all off at once like Chinese firework that can not wait to stun the public. No, as timing is everything when you go for effect : Dark! Light! Dark! Light! Confusing the hell out of him as if he is a fly walking on a neon lighted zebras back.
As the pain sets in, he buries his face in his hands knowing that the worst is still to come.
He moans like a child, fearing the screams will take over as soon as,,,
There they are! The faces!
The horrible twisted mouth laughing like mad, showing him a deep dark gap between the crooked brown teeth! They come closer,,, and he can't move! They are attacking from all sides, going through him; images scraping at the darkside of his eyes, drauthing pictures of skulls with worms and leftover molted apple sauce, with white bemossed ten days old baby carrots and green corn flaoting in a drab that foams and bubbles, coming at him wave after wave.
The horrid painted faces with big ruby puckered up lips mouth in slow-motion the most horrible words. The laugther that doesn't reach the blankety blank red eyes! Out of the grey tanned heads sprout fingers that turn into claws penetrating his stomach as long sharp rusty needles, probing, hurting, turning him inside out.
And the smell! Oh, God the smell! Sewer pit smells, rotten eggs, sour milk, and tastes that he only recognizs because he has been here before.
But it is worst this time! It's the end of his world for sure!
Foul air, one stinkin gulp after another, overpower his nostrils, torture him.
The wild things are fully ignorant to his cries of woo, only obeying the law of consequence which is molted into stone and beyond his powers. Relentless as the hammer of Thor they smash into him with an ease of a continuous night summers beach breeze that caresses the pale sand.
He tries to outrun it but the horrors are inside him; plucking crescendo at his intestines, playing the big drum ochestra low in his back and going for the all out final of a orange and gold firebold lightshow unseen since the beginning of time.
He can not escape; he has to endure the wild things, that keep him in their graps, momentarily, untill it is over once again. He knows his eyes will look upon the soft cream of his bedroom walls where the sunlight will color golden specs to make life all light and easy to bear.
And while he waits,,,
He vows on everything that is dear to him, that,if he survives,,,
He will never drink again!
Déja vue
I hold inside me
Your words of love
The soft spoken promises
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
as hot rays of sunshine
I feel
The tantelizing touches
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
My hopes well hidden
Our dreams of one day
I always knew
I hold inside me
And I always knew
Your words of love
Our dreams of one day
The soft spoken promises
My hopes well hidden
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
The fingers tracings the outlines of my heart
as hot rays of sunshine
The tantalizing touches
I feel
Déja vu
I feel
The tantalizing touches
As hot rays of sunsine
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
My hopes well hidden
The soft spoken promises
Our dreams of one day
Your words of love
I always knew
what I hold inside me
I always knew
Our dreams of one day
my hopes well hidden
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
The tantalizing touches
I feel
as hot rays of sunshine
The whispers carried on dragonflywings
The soft spoken promises
Your words of love
I hold inside of me
Your words of love
The soft spoken promises
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
as hot rays of sunshine
I feel
The tantelizing touches
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
My hopes well hidden
Our dreams of one day
I always knew
I hold inside me
And I always knew
Your words of love
Our dreams of one day
The soft spoken promises
My hopes well hidden
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
The fingers tracings the outlines of my heart
as hot rays of sunshine
The tantalizing touches
I feel
Déja vu
I feel
The tantalizing touches
As hot rays of sunsine
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
The whispers carried on dragonfly wings
My hopes well hidden
The soft spoken promises
Our dreams of one day
Your words of love
I always knew
what I hold inside me
I always knew
Our dreams of one day
my hopes well hidden
The fingers tracing the outlines of my heart
The tantalizing touches
I feel
as hot rays of sunshine
The whispers carried on dragonflywings
The soft spoken promises
Your words of love
I hold inside of me
Vertigo - Babel
Colors pale,
Morning sun
Untouched peachy sky
Peac and beauty
Look down on
Hungry men
Blind and deaf
"must go higher !"
"Taller !"
"Greater !"
Crazy beehive
Ignoring life,,,
Thoughts whirl dizzy
Too many words,
meanings lost,
drown in confusion
Golden tower shaking !
Silence banging at the doors !
Little man
on the edge
cries,,,
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Affectionate Anarchy
Affectionate Anarchy
She slammed the door. The silence following her absence left a ringing in his ears.
He sat there for a while,just looking at his image in the mirror above the mantlepiece. Then he shook his head and stood up to get his coat,to go to work.
"Blue." he thought,sitting in the backseat of the car."Of all colours, blue?"
Again he looked at himself in the rearview mirror and shook his head once more. The eye contact didn't help;he didn't have the answers. He could ask himself the same questions over and over.
He entered the building,waving at the security agent at the desk.
"They make them younger everytime!" " Yes,who else would do the job, all strutted up,broad shoulders and a smile." " He seems to like his job then,I bet he doesn't have a problem with authority?"
He looked back from the mirror in the restroom.
"Yes" he said outloud "I am talking to myself."
"The bad thing however is that I don't know either."
As the day filled mercifully with the distraction of problems demanding to be solved,the "blue thing" didn't leave his thoughts. Images of whispering lips behind curtains,big bulging eyes, belonging to those who enjoyed the never ceasing waterfall of gossip. And worst of all;the thin mouth of his once beloved blaming him for yet another disaster.
His secretary didn't say a word when she found him watching the skyline;standing in front of his wallsized window. She just put the papers on the corner of his desk and discretely but quickly vanished.
"He is not in a good mood sir, I would wait untill tomorrow!" The man stopped in his tracks,took his cellphone,whispered a few words and then nodded his head at the worried face of the secretary of the president.
"Define,not in a good mood?" he asked. " I think it's personal,sir."came the answer softly.
Eyes locked;the question was silent;the answer was a double sigh.
"Going in!" the man said feeling less determined than his words indicated.
He opened the door after a short sharp knock.
"Mister President"He stopped and stood 'at attention' even though he never was remotely connected to anything concerning the military.
The man at the window turned slowly:his shoulders bent,a puzzled look on his face.
"Yes,tell me,but be brief! It is time to go home!"
Still standing as if he swallowed a broomstick, the man rattled off his report.
"Good. That is good. So it is all solved then?"
" Yes sir. Just tidying up some odds and ends but all is well."
"Good, let them bring my car around please."
The man turned swiftly on his heals and closed the door behind him with a "'Yes sir!"
He was alone again in the big room.
He tilted his head and said outloud "Blue?" Furrowed forehead,narrowed eyes,puckered lips' Blue!" He sighed and a little smile appeared. "Blue? Maybe navy blue?"
Driving home through the night the smile stayed and broadened.
Coming in,he shook his head "No,I ate at work. I'm not hungry,thank you. Yes,I am allright" he smiled.
The house was silent after the woman left.
He was tired. Watching the news while sitting in the comfortable chair that,he knew, would be the cause of him dozing off before the weather forecast came on. He didn't hear her coming in,but felt her presence. A long arm,ringed fingers and a hot cup of tea appeared before his eyes. He smiled.
"So" he said "Let me see the blue hair?"
"I can't Dad" a cheerfull young voice said.
"So you didn't do it? Out of love for your old dad?"
"Well,you know I love you;and you know I listen to you!"
"That doesn't mean,young lady, that you obey!"
"Correct Dad! By the way," the smiling face blocked the commercials on the television "What do you think of pink? They were all out of blue!"
She slammed the door. The silence following her absence left a ringing in his ears.
He sat there for a while,just looking at his image in the mirror above the mantlepiece. Then he shook his head and stood up to get his coat,to go to work.
"Blue." he thought,sitting in the backseat of the car."Of all colours, blue?"
Again he looked at himself in the rearview mirror and shook his head once more. The eye contact didn't help;he didn't have the answers. He could ask himself the same questions over and over.
He entered the building,waving at the security agent at the desk.
"They make them younger everytime!" " Yes,who else would do the job, all strutted up,broad shoulders and a smile." " He seems to like his job then,I bet he doesn't have a problem with authority?"
He looked back from the mirror in the restroom.
"Yes" he said outloud "I am talking to myself."
"The bad thing however is that I don't know either."
As the day filled mercifully with the distraction of problems demanding to be solved,the "blue thing" didn't leave his thoughts. Images of whispering lips behind curtains,big bulging eyes, belonging to those who enjoyed the never ceasing waterfall of gossip. And worst of all;the thin mouth of his once beloved blaming him for yet another disaster.
His secretary didn't say a word when she found him watching the skyline;standing in front of his wallsized window. She just put the papers on the corner of his desk and discretely but quickly vanished.
"He is not in a good mood sir, I would wait untill tomorrow!" The man stopped in his tracks,took his cellphone,whispered a few words and then nodded his head at the worried face of the secretary of the president.
"Define,not in a good mood?" he asked. " I think it's personal,sir."came the answer softly.
Eyes locked;the question was silent;the answer was a double sigh.
"Going in!" the man said feeling less determined than his words indicated.
He opened the door after a short sharp knock.
"Mister President"He stopped and stood 'at attention' even though he never was remotely connected to anything concerning the military.
The man at the window turned slowly:his shoulders bent,a puzzled look on his face.
"Yes,tell me,but be brief! It is time to go home!"
Still standing as if he swallowed a broomstick, the man rattled off his report.
"Good. That is good. So it is all solved then?"
" Yes sir. Just tidying up some odds and ends but all is well."
"Good, let them bring my car around please."
The man turned swiftly on his heals and closed the door behind him with a "'Yes sir!"
He was alone again in the big room.
He tilted his head and said outloud "Blue?" Furrowed forehead,narrowed eyes,puckered lips' Blue!" He sighed and a little smile appeared. "Blue? Maybe navy blue?"
Driving home through the night the smile stayed and broadened.
Coming in,he shook his head "No,I ate at work. I'm not hungry,thank you. Yes,I am allright" he smiled.
The house was silent after the woman left.
He was tired. Watching the news while sitting in the comfortable chair that,he knew, would be the cause of him dozing off before the weather forecast came on. He didn't hear her coming in,but felt her presence. A long arm,ringed fingers and a hot cup of tea appeared before his eyes. He smiled.
"So" he said "Let me see the blue hair?"
"I can't Dad" a cheerfull young voice said.
"So you didn't do it? Out of love for your old dad?"
"Well,you know I love you;and you know I listen to you!"
"That doesn't mean,young lady, that you obey!"
"Correct Dad! By the way," the smiling face blocked the commercials on the television "What do you think of pink? They were all out of blue!"
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Protest song
I am not your lucky charm,
rabbitsfoot nor four leaf clover!
Squeeze or pinch me one more time?
And your lucky days are over!
If your rub me for good luck?
make sure your hand won'tget stuck.
I have feelins, I have teeth!
If you stab me YOU will bleed!
I am small but Mother Nature
didn't put me on this earth,
as a lucky puppet feature!
Big Ones, wisely spread the word :
I am not your cuddly toy
Happily swinging on your keyring.
Call me once more : "cutey boy'"
Huge disaster you'll be fearing!
I have a beard, I have a hat.
I don't know where my gold is at!
I have not seen that pot for ages!
Shouldn't you guys pay me wages?
Ask me where the rainbows end,
I'll show you where the sunshine went!
Green is lucky? Now try black!
I'm fed up and will punch back!
Limping rabbits, come and fight
Big old spiders, do join in!
Shoeless horses all unite!
Falling stars, we can win!
If only man could see,
what is so clear to me :
You see a moonbeam, that is stuck,
and lock it up,,just for luck???
Learn before it is too late:
Luck will only come to love and faith,,,
rabbitsfoot nor four leaf clover!
Squeeze or pinch me one more time?
And your lucky days are over!
If your rub me for good luck?
make sure your hand won'tget stuck.
I have feelins, I have teeth!
If you stab me YOU will bleed!
I am small but Mother Nature
didn't put me on this earth,
as a lucky puppet feature!
Big Ones, wisely spread the word :
I am not your cuddly toy
Happily swinging on your keyring.
Call me once more : "cutey boy'"
Huge disaster you'll be fearing!
I have a beard, I have a hat.
I don't know where my gold is at!
I have not seen that pot for ages!
Shouldn't you guys pay me wages?
Ask me where the rainbows end,
I'll show you where the sunshine went!
Green is lucky? Now try black!
I'm fed up and will punch back!
Limping rabbits, come and fight
Big old spiders, do join in!
Shoeless horses all unite!
Falling stars, we can win!
If only man could see,
what is so clear to me :
You see a moonbeam, that is stuck,
and lock it up,,just for luck???
Learn before it is too late:
Luck will only come to love and faith,,,
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
For a Friend
I heard this morning he was gone, which meant that he simply had stopped breathing.
His face is etched in my memory but I will never again see the smile he shared with Clark Gable, nor the blue-grey eyes, watching me while listening to me.
Only a void where there was none, will be there.
I like oil paintings: they clearly state contours and visualize the sharp edges. And what you see is what you get: a frozen image that will never alter, that always will stay the same. No more no less!
But now, my inner view drifts off in watercolours, wisps of grey and green, one blurred image fading into another, as tears soften my view of the outside world.
And I think of him, who stopped living, suddenly, when I was not ready to let him leave me.
And he walked away...quitely.
There was a time, I looked for answers, a time I rebelled against anything or anyone who I remotely could hold responsible for taking a warm beating heart away from me.
Life is not fair...
It is unearthly hot, while I sit here, struck by yet another blow...again something I can't fight, I can't change!
I gaze up to the clear-blue sky, straight into the blaze of the white hot ball of fire, defying every law of physics, in search of the blind trust of my childhood : people who die go to heaven : period!
I want to see him now!
All the known colours and then some, explode in my head into a flashing, silver metallic haze. I close my eyes very tight and slowly the world slips mercifully into a vast blackness.
I open them and I am blind.
And then ... I do see...
As this blindness is but darkness, is but the absence of light.
He is still there, behind the veil, separating here and there.
And will never be gone.
His face is etched in my memory but I will never again see the smile he shared with Clark Gable, nor the blue-grey eyes, watching me while listening to me.
Only a void where there was none, will be there.
I like oil paintings: they clearly state contours and visualize the sharp edges. And what you see is what you get: a frozen image that will never alter, that always will stay the same. No more no less!
But now, my inner view drifts off in watercolours, wisps of grey and green, one blurred image fading into another, as tears soften my view of the outside world.
And I think of him, who stopped living, suddenly, when I was not ready to let him leave me.
And he walked away...quitely.
There was a time, I looked for answers, a time I rebelled against anything or anyone who I remotely could hold responsible for taking a warm beating heart away from me.
Life is not fair...
It is unearthly hot, while I sit here, struck by yet another blow...again something I can't fight, I can't change!
I gaze up to the clear-blue sky, straight into the blaze of the white hot ball of fire, defying every law of physics, in search of the blind trust of my childhood : people who die go to heaven : period!
I want to see him now!
All the known colours and then some, explode in my head into a flashing, silver metallic haze. I close my eyes very tight and slowly the world slips mercifully into a vast blackness.
I open them and I am blind.
And then ... I do see...
As this blindness is but darkness, is but the absence of light.
He is still there, behind the veil, separating here and there.
And will never be gone.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Embrace
The First
Only just there,
not yet fully aware,
all is odd, new and bare.
Light is bright,
shadows hazy,
tired of the fight,
sleepy, lazy...
Little worried face
barely alive...
And in the mids of all that is strange and unknown...
ultimate trust is shown...
One, two, three, four, five
tiny fingers wrap around fathers pinky...
Babies first embrace!
Fox
A Midsummer Night's Dream
Twilight time, not light and not dark. Softly nature hums. There is music but no song...only the essence of almost a sound breaking the silence. A gentle breeze whispers through the luscious green treetops; fireflies paint stars: tiny specs that weave in and out misty grey shadows, while the wind plays over the meadows draving patterns under a honeycolored sky, where daisies bow...tired of a day that does not end.
Organdie butterflywings, with crystal-clear pearldrops, dance in a light that looks so unreal, as if fairy dust coats the world.
Here Time chose to stand still...
Hen who brings the velvet darkness, who covers all with the gown of forgetfulness, who wipes away sorrow and gives belssed oblivion... awaits her.
He spreads his arms, ready to embrace... but she bows her head, covers herself with her long blond hair and hides.
Then suddenly she leaps... tiptoes around him, her laughter tickling his inner being. It diverts him, caresses him... she draws closer, not touching and stays out of his reach but does not wander.
He shakes his head, laughs out loud! He knows he will win, as they will come together as sure as night and day.
Still, when the high corn brings back a faint echo,,,doubt creeps in. He tilts his head, a frown, his shoulders tighten. He watches her with curious wonder: her radiance, her gusto for life, her little naughty smile while she waves him back...not yet, not now, not this time, my strong lover... wait! Those deep blue eyes that promise, yet hold back, tantalizingly invite...
He follows reluctantly while she showers her warm embrace over the land and all living things, looking over her shoulder, eyes half closed, bottom lip with that tiny pot.
He is lost, intrigued, annoyed, unsure... he feels as if he entered a forgotten garden that slowly unfolds... new to him, but as old as time. He can taste the magic on the tip of his tongue. She beckons, he comes...
Soft floats her voice , as a sigh over the water:
"No sleep, my love, not now... not while your fingers could maybe caress mine, while your lips should find mine, while the days so close to the restful night holds on... lingers for almost enternity."
And her words sail to him over the dry eastern winds:
"This feels like a night for making love... for making it last... for long deep gazes, eye to eye... for subtle nearly touching... for smiles and words not yet spoken... for loving without holding.
Imagine my love... distance between us, and still feel me near, almost within reach... and let us take this midsummer night to dream together as we have time..."
Foxy
Organdie butterflywings, with crystal-clear pearldrops, dance in a light that looks so unreal, as if fairy dust coats the world.
Here Time chose to stand still...
Hen who brings the velvet darkness, who covers all with the gown of forgetfulness, who wipes away sorrow and gives belssed oblivion... awaits her.
He spreads his arms, ready to embrace... but she bows her head, covers herself with her long blond hair and hides.
Then suddenly she leaps... tiptoes around him, her laughter tickling his inner being. It diverts him, caresses him... she draws closer, not touching and stays out of his reach but does not wander.
He shakes his head, laughs out loud! He knows he will win, as they will come together as sure as night and day.
Still, when the high corn brings back a faint echo,,,doubt creeps in. He tilts his head, a frown, his shoulders tighten. He watches her with curious wonder: her radiance, her gusto for life, her little naughty smile while she waves him back...not yet, not now, not this time, my strong lover... wait! Those deep blue eyes that promise, yet hold back, tantalizingly invite...
He follows reluctantly while she showers her warm embrace over the land and all living things, looking over her shoulder, eyes half closed, bottom lip with that tiny pot.
He is lost, intrigued, annoyed, unsure... he feels as if he entered a forgotten garden that slowly unfolds... new to him, but as old as time. He can taste the magic on the tip of his tongue. She beckons, he comes...
Soft floats her voice , as a sigh over the water:
"No sleep, my love, not now... not while your fingers could maybe caress mine, while your lips should find mine, while the days so close to the restful night holds on... lingers for almost enternity."
And her words sail to him over the dry eastern winds:
"This feels like a night for making love... for making it last... for long deep gazes, eye to eye... for subtle nearly touching... for smiles and words not yet spoken... for loving without holding.
Imagine my love... distance between us, and still feel me near, almost within reach... and let us take this midsummer night to dream together as we have time..."
Foxy
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Merlin
Thursdayevening,,almost 11 pm,,,and again all is quiet,,,even Merlin gave up eh : mom's on the computer,,,doesn't wanna play,,,so ,ok,,,
Cats love to sleep and they made it into an art. There is nothing more peaceful than a sleeping cat,,,it lays there, all relaxed,,,smiles even,,,not a worry in the world.
It just turns the switch and it is in a different world. A cat knows, without the shadow of doubt , that, at that certain moment in time ,nothing is gonna harm it,,,there are no faxmachines who will spit questions,,,no phones that hold problems,,,and most of all : no people that want something from ya,,,,
Just turn yaself into a lil ball,,,or even better, stretch out and leave the world to it's own worries . As the world survived so long on it's own,,, it knows by now how to do that,,without help,,,without meddling ,,without watching it turn,,,,
It's a gift, a talent : don't go for yoga,,,don't go for 'working out', don't turn on the tele so ya can put ya mind on 'below zero' watching ppl who think they can sing,,dance or even do politics,,,be a cat ! Be Merlin the cat !
Every move he makes has its purpose : Lost in thoughts,he walks in a perfect circle,,, once,, twice,,, three times,,, then a sudden noise startles him,,he looks up,,,eyes all wide ,,all alert,,,turns his head and looks at me,,,he winks,,,and then he starts over : one circle,,two,,, and he stretches ,,,
Oh, ya wish ya knew his secret,eh ,,,ya can just ''sense'' how good that stretching feels ,,,every muscle gets his turn,,,even the hairs on top of his ears seem to grow longer,,,
Then he 'slides' on to the floor,,,turns on his side and looks at me,,,slowly I see how he falls asleep,,,,and I feel privileged,,,I'm part of a magical moment,,,just before the beautiful green and yellow eyes close, I see a glimps of another world,,,where nothing bothers you,,,where all is at ease,,beyond peace,,I think cats found the nirvana long before religion did,,,
It's dark outside,,the window is like a mirror reflecting, like a bad photo,my cosy lil puter- room,,,,,black velvet outside,,,but that doesn't matter ,,, here,it's warm and quiet,,,and it's time to 'be Merlin' . So,,,I'll cuddle up to my pillow,,,and if I'm lucky ,,a lil ball of fur at my feet will try to teach me one more time how to go to sleep ,,,,softly,,,without a care in the world,,,,
That is if I can manage not to move ,,,cause lil claws will protect first of all,,,,Merlins'dreams !
Nite nite,,,,,,,
Cats love to sleep and they made it into an art. There is nothing more peaceful than a sleeping cat,,,it lays there, all relaxed,,,smiles even,,,not a worry in the world.
It just turns the switch and it is in a different world. A cat knows, without the shadow of doubt , that, at that certain moment in time ,nothing is gonna harm it,,,there are no faxmachines who will spit questions,,,no phones that hold problems,,,and most of all : no people that want something from ya,,,,
Just turn yaself into a lil ball,,,or even better, stretch out and leave the world to it's own worries . As the world survived so long on it's own,,, it knows by now how to do that,,without help,,,without meddling ,,without watching it turn,,,,
It's a gift, a talent : don't go for yoga,,,don't go for 'working out', don't turn on the tele so ya can put ya mind on 'below zero' watching ppl who think they can sing,,dance or even do politics,,,be a cat ! Be Merlin the cat !
Every move he makes has its purpose : Lost in thoughts,he walks in a perfect circle,,, once,, twice,,, three times,,, then a sudden noise startles him,,he looks up,,,eyes all wide ,,all alert,,,turns his head and looks at me,,,he winks,,,and then he starts over : one circle,,two,,, and he stretches ,,,
Oh, ya wish ya knew his secret,eh ,,,ya can just ''sense'' how good that stretching feels ,,,every muscle gets his turn,,,even the hairs on top of his ears seem to grow longer,,,
Then he 'slides' on to the floor,,,turns on his side and looks at me,,,slowly I see how he falls asleep,,,,and I feel privileged,,,I'm part of a magical moment,,,just before the beautiful green and yellow eyes close, I see a glimps of another world,,,where nothing bothers you,,,where all is at ease,,beyond peace,,I think cats found the nirvana long before religion did,,,
It's dark outside,,the window is like a mirror reflecting, like a bad photo,my cosy lil puter- room,,,,,black velvet outside,,,but that doesn't matter ,,, here,it's warm and quiet,,,and it's time to 'be Merlin' . So,,,I'll cuddle up to my pillow,,,and if I'm lucky ,,a lil ball of fur at my feet will try to teach me one more time how to go to sleep ,,,,softly,,,without a care in the world,,,,
That is if I can manage not to move ,,,cause lil claws will protect first of all,,,,Merlins'dreams !
Nite nite,,,,,,,
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Another Sunday Afternoon
Another Sunday afternoon,
I've been neglecting this blog,,,shame on me. Excuses? I've got a lot,,,and they are all true but none of'm, really is one,,,
Where do you start when a lot of time has passed by? I moved recently,,,found a new appartement, close to where my daughter lives,,,Now,I'm a city girl,before I lived in a village,,and I grew up on a farm,,,maybe the circle is round ,,,I am where I'm supposed to be.
I'm fifty,,,and life goes on, maybe a lil slower,,,there are aches,,,and there is my memory that sometimes doesn't do it's job,,,lil things are a bit harder but the smiles are still there,,,maybe I don't laugh as much as I did,,,but I smile a lot more,,,,
So,,,,what's left ? I'm sorta happy,,,not discontented,,,not by far !
Ofcourse there's the struggle to get all bills payed,,,the fight to meet the goals I need to reach,,,there's work,,,things to see,,,to do,,,
There are new things,,,things I love doing,,,there's Cosy Clan Radio : playing my music ,,, surprizing friends with tunes which make them smile,,,
There it is again : 'smile'. Which can mean so many different things : understanding,,, listening,,,knowing,,,sweet expectation,,,surprize,,,looking or listening to the one ya love,,,first baby steps,,,feeling the sun on my skin,,,watching my cat sleep,,,
There is that moment in a movie that brings on the tears,,,but ya keep'm inside and they turn into crystals ,,and ya view is suddenly blurry,,, remember the kaleidoscope ? Colors all flowing into eachother till ya forgot how the outside world looked like?,,,but it made ya smile,,,in wonder,,,
I've been listening to Joni Mitchell : I looked at life from both sides now,,,from win and lose and still somehow,,,it's lifes illusions I recall,,,I really don't know life at all,,,,
This is a rainy sunday afternoon and rather chilly,,,it's June and it's cold,,,and I'm kinda in tune with the weather,,,maybe the sun will come out,,,I do see a speck of blue through the raindrops. Ya know what?,,,There has to be something more,,,cause this is not all there is,,,not by far !
So,,,well,,,bring on the rains ,,,even the thunderstorms of life,,,I'll take'm,,,,with a smile !
I've been neglecting this blog,,,shame on me. Excuses? I've got a lot,,,and they are all true but none of'm, really is one,,,
Where do you start when a lot of time has passed by? I moved recently,,,found a new appartement, close to where my daughter lives,,,Now,I'm a city girl,before I lived in a village,,and I grew up on a farm,,,maybe the circle is round ,,,I am where I'm supposed to be.
I'm fifty,,,and life goes on, maybe a lil slower,,,there are aches,,,and there is my memory that sometimes doesn't do it's job,,,lil things are a bit harder but the smiles are still there,,,maybe I don't laugh as much as I did,,,but I smile a lot more,,,,
So,,,,what's left ? I'm sorta happy,,,not discontented,,,not by far !
Ofcourse there's the struggle to get all bills payed,,,the fight to meet the goals I need to reach,,,there's work,,,things to see,,,to do,,,
There are new things,,,things I love doing,,,there's Cosy Clan Radio : playing my music ,,, surprizing friends with tunes which make them smile,,,
There it is again : 'smile'. Which can mean so many different things : understanding,,, listening,,,knowing,,,sweet expectation,,,surprize,,,looking or listening to the one ya love,,,first baby steps,,,feeling the sun on my skin,,,watching my cat sleep,,,
There is that moment in a movie that brings on the tears,,,but ya keep'm inside and they turn into crystals ,,and ya view is suddenly blurry,,, remember the kaleidoscope ? Colors all flowing into eachother till ya forgot how the outside world looked like?,,,but it made ya smile,,,in wonder,,,
I've been listening to Joni Mitchell : I looked at life from both sides now,,,from win and lose and still somehow,,,it's lifes illusions I recall,,,I really don't know life at all,,,,
This is a rainy sunday afternoon and rather chilly,,,it's June and it's cold,,,and I'm kinda in tune with the weather,,,maybe the sun will come out,,,I do see a speck of blue through the raindrops. Ya know what?,,,There has to be something more,,,cause this is not all there is,,,not by far !
So,,,well,,,bring on the rains ,,,even the thunderstorms of life,,,I'll take'm,,,,with a smile !
Sunday, October 7, 2007
lazy sunday morning
Well,,,Sunday again and the Maple leafs kicked butt ,,,I know it didn't look like we were gonna make it but hey,,,,we're scrappers,,,and watching the game in relay,on a Belgian Sunday morning is almost as good,,,because I just peeked eh,,,,and saw the scores on the net.
I was gonna say : " Well,,just beginning of the season lol,we'll win the next one ",,cause at the moment that i write this, 'les Canadiens' are 3 to 1 ahead ,,,but knowing that overtime will get US ,(that's Go Leafs Go,lol) the victory is sweet !
I went to an all-girls school,,,and boys were creatures we saw on the bus to school or watched (without being seen watching) when they hung around at the busstop. They were acting cool and we were acting like we didn't see that,eh. They mostly talked sports and I had an older brother that played soccer,,,which is as big a hype in Belgium as hockey is in Canada. So at home we watched soccer eventhough three girls enriched the family after the firstborn male,,,,to make it a tight package ,we had a lil bro to top it all off and make the family complete, I had to mention this just to fill ya'll in properly eh.
Soccer was big in our house,,,so was cycling,,,no game or contest was missed,,,and so us girls knew a lot about it,eh. We knew what off-side was before we were eleven,,,,also knew not to 'talk gibberish' during a game,,,and ya know what? Dad was right about that : how can ya concentrate, how can ya 'feel' the game and enjoy it if ya talking about trivial things ?
Hence my love for sports although I'm just a couch-potato-sports-lover, it was the start for me to love a lot of sports : you name it, I like it,,,and I'll ask untill i understand the rules and I'll pick a team,,,I'll sit on the tip of my 'couch' when I can catch a game of the Brisbane lions,,,for sure.
Now, how did a Belgian girl get interested in the Toronto Maple Leafs?
Well,,,they tricked me into it,,,but I'm a loyal one,,,,being a leo ya pick ya team and ya stick by'm,,,come rain or shine so I'll never leave the leafs,,,no chance,,sorry lol !
At that time I was a baby chatter,,,I pretty well stuck to chatting in one room,,,one I still have a soft spot for eventhough it's gone : I grew up there,,,learned the values of a good chatroom, and learned how to host people. The host and owner of that room was and is my roll-model, ,,she 'felt' people,,their needs , but also saw right through the whining and the 'look-at-me-i'm-the-Gods-gift-to women/men-routine',,,I learned a lot from her,,,most importantly her caring for her chatters,,,whom she called friends.
Ok,,,Belgian,,,,Maple Leafs Toronto,,,,well,,,one evening I entered chat and there was an animated convo going on,,,,and every three or four sentences there was this 'Go leafs Go',,,,which made me curious cause Foxy had absolutely no idea what leafs were,,,to me the leafs fell of the trees and I knew what a Maple tree was,,,beautifull in fall,,,majestic in summer.
So I asked ,,, and I got my answer, but not before eh, I shouted : 'GO LEAFS GO',,,and I did ,,,,ofcourse I did,,,,then told the belgian girly it was ice-hockey and they all had a lot of fun eh,,,explaining the rules to me : All together now: "hit ya opponent if he's in the way,,,a good fight makes the game exciting,,,this is a canadian sport,,,this is THE canadian soul ,its blood and bones !",,,,and they liked it that I was excited and not went : 'ohhh ,such a violent sport,,,ooohh,,,they hit eachother".
Oh come on,get serious : " If ya can't stand the heat, stay out of the kichen,,,if ya can't cut it stay of the ice ! It's rough ,true that,,,but it's so exciting so see the moves,,,the swiftness,,,the game,,,beauty eh !"
In that room , I was part of the euphoria ,the overwhelming enthusiasm,,,and i missed that from my childhood days,,,nothing binds people more than their team winning ! And they were good-humored about it,,,they excepted the fact that ya can't win'm all,,,they talked about the players of other teams with admiration : they were proud and that is what made me smile. That night in chat,,,and other times made me fall in love with the canadian spirit, the way they look at things,,,I'll always have a soft spot for'm,,, sue me lol,,,
I was gonna say : " Well,,just beginning of the season lol,we'll win the next one ",,cause at the moment that i write this, 'les Canadiens' are 3 to 1 ahead ,,,but knowing that overtime will get US ,(that's Go Leafs Go,lol) the victory is sweet !
I went to an all-girls school,,,and boys were creatures we saw on the bus to school or watched (without being seen watching) when they hung around at the busstop. They were acting cool and we were acting like we didn't see that,eh. They mostly talked sports and I had an older brother that played soccer,,,which is as big a hype in Belgium as hockey is in Canada. So at home we watched soccer eventhough three girls enriched the family after the firstborn male,,,,to make it a tight package ,we had a lil bro to top it all off and make the family complete, I had to mention this just to fill ya'll in properly eh.
Soccer was big in our house,,,so was cycling,,,no game or contest was missed,,,and so us girls knew a lot about it,eh. We knew what off-side was before we were eleven,,,,also knew not to 'talk gibberish' during a game,,,and ya know what? Dad was right about that : how can ya concentrate, how can ya 'feel' the game and enjoy it if ya talking about trivial things ?
Hence my love for sports although I'm just a couch-potato-sports-lover, it was the start for me to love a lot of sports : you name it, I like it,,,and I'll ask untill i understand the rules and I'll pick a team,,,I'll sit on the tip of my 'couch' when I can catch a game of the Brisbane lions,,,for sure.
Now, how did a Belgian girl get interested in the Toronto Maple Leafs?
Well,,,they tricked me into it,,,but I'm a loyal one,,,,being a leo ya pick ya team and ya stick by'm,,,come rain or shine so I'll never leave the leafs,,,no chance,,sorry lol !
At that time I was a baby chatter,,,I pretty well stuck to chatting in one room,,,one I still have a soft spot for eventhough it's gone : I grew up there,,,learned the values of a good chatroom, and learned how to host people. The host and owner of that room was and is my roll-model, ,,she 'felt' people,,their needs , but also saw right through the whining and the 'look-at-me-i'm-the-Gods-gift-to women/men-routine',,,I learned a lot from her,,,most importantly her caring for her chatters,,,whom she called friends.
Ok,,,Belgian,,,,Maple Leafs Toronto,,,,well,,,one evening I entered chat and there was an animated convo going on,,,,and every three or four sentences there was this 'Go leafs Go',,,,which made me curious cause Foxy had absolutely no idea what leafs were,,,to me the leafs fell of the trees and I knew what a Maple tree was,,,beautifull in fall,,,majestic in summer.
So I asked ,,, and I got my answer, but not before eh, I shouted : 'GO LEAFS GO',,,and I did ,,,,ofcourse I did,,,,then told the belgian girly it was ice-hockey and they all had a lot of fun eh,,,explaining the rules to me : All together now: "hit ya opponent if he's in the way,,,a good fight makes the game exciting,,,this is a canadian sport,,,this is THE canadian soul ,its blood and bones !",,,,and they liked it that I was excited and not went : 'ohhh ,such a violent sport,,,ooohh,,,they hit eachother".
Oh come on,get serious : " If ya can't stand the heat, stay out of the kichen,,,if ya can't cut it stay of the ice ! It's rough ,true that,,,but it's so exciting so see the moves,,,the swiftness,,,the game,,,beauty eh !"
In that room , I was part of the euphoria ,the overwhelming enthusiasm,,,and i missed that from my childhood days,,,nothing binds people more than their team winning ! And they were good-humored about it,,,they excepted the fact that ya can't win'm all,,,they talked about the players of other teams with admiration : they were proud and that is what made me smile. That night in chat,,,and other times made me fall in love with the canadian spirit, the way they look at things,,,I'll always have a soft spot for'm,,, sue me lol,,,
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