Monthly Archives: January 2021

Did you

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We have died some time ago
it’s been years I have known
but my fears got the best of me
I couldn’t tell a living soul
that my loving went off the boil,
burn, burn, burn
something must’ve really turned…

Did you feel from the start?
Did you know I’ll break your heart?
Did you?

Our story is built on lies
feeling lonely makes one try
this charade was truly fine
up until tomorrow’s night,
something,
something really must’ve broke
that wasn’t there all along…

Did you question it at all?
Did you sense the pain to come?
Did you?
Did you…
Did you now?

It was rotten form the heart
nothing good was there to start
gave me all I didn’t ask
way to early way to fast, in the dark,
lost it’s spark,
you have loved me in the dark
when I’m a built and fed on light…

Did you…
Did you think it would last?
Did you,
Did you think you were the one?
Did you…
Did you?

Between the lines

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I’d see beauty
my eyes turned white
your face is a color that I feel like a sound,
the last beer
spilled on my fingers in a bad pub
it was hot before it was cold
your voice sufficed
in a dark that was blind
fell deep inside
addiction for a good mind,
summer stayed for a while
something is broken,
broken
it is the world
I closed and see wrong
no heat for my own,
lips from between the lines
million thoughts
came before each bite
honey
water and hard
lost in a pond
I died and turned out alive…

What was not said

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Oath in the night that is quest for the silence
not isolation but reigning from afar on one’s expectations,
praise the hours that gave moments to build out of nothing
with recipes written in cold running water,
ode to renouncement when knitting vague feelings
as the cure for the lonely is walking away…

Why stay in a present when so many futures await
but out of deception and fear of the path,
the image itself is prone to corruption
when in the youth air felt heavy and wrinkled,
and for what the force without a place to stand
when one’s mind travel for the story isn’t there…

What was not said is the heart of true meaning
that bland grains can leaven to good fare,
but why ask forgiveness and pursue convenience
when the church is inside and not in the dreaming
and marching dough comes from believing
not in the many gods but in one’s inner singing…

Love (Story)

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Love is that one kiss on the forehead as the sun beams into little ponds formed by the rain filling our foot marks in the forest,
warmth after a cold morning,
sharing the last cigarette with coffee in the garden,
a plunge in strong memories igniting lost fire,
crying together in a Hungarian tavern,
calls running late into the night,
a private diary page opened,
building,
tormenting,
anticipating,
thirst and water,
loosing and finding faith,
drunk kissing,
in the dark,
caught,
fear,
coming back home and silent prayer on the steps of a locked church,
away,
a riddle,
a longing for more,
a night at the movies,
yellow flowers on a cloudy day,
a purple star that does not exist,
closer,
first kiss,
expectations,
a night trip by the bus,
small box in woolen thread,
light auburn hair and teddy bear,
an Indian restaurant somewhere,
drinking on the left side of the Rhone,
highest road over mountains and room with a view to the stars
tram 28, two glasses of Porto and Fado,
left –
the pain,
the questions,
“Talk to me!”,
a rock concert at the Eiffel tower,
the trip,
the visits,
the mother,
her daughter,
one last kiss to say goodbye,
brunch in the city of painters,
new year in Paris,
“On the Road”,
September the 30th
…
…
“Happy Holidays Stardust!”