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
Sunday, September 26, 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.
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