IF

mattdez @ deviantART

If this would be the last of days and I could never take a step further
and the hour of the choice has come and God is asking me to take a crown,
if rain would never ever stop to fall unless I am willing to make a call
and horsemen of the old would guard the exits and there is no where to run,
what is that I’d say to dad and which of them I’d want to shield
for storms and demons never touch my heart and never have my soul?

Once an evening long ago I’ve told us stories to recall
and sipping on a cup of tea we shared both hell and harmony,
and books I’ve opened to remember in a pub that ceased to serve the drinks
turned to slaves that had the fate of logs in winter at the lake…
And when the morning came with whistles and the night was like a fog
and the warmth in gloves would melt the ice and hold in place the bows,
the dream would find a way to go beyond the rocks and slippery slopes
and to give birth to youth anew,
to make me pierce the deep and strength return to arms…

If fearless I’m reborn to walk this morning to the river,
if fearless I am taking this sword I swore to ease upon the sinners,
if fearless is a testament graved upon my chest
I’d choose to loose them all
I’d choose to all forget
to wake upon the world as innocent and do not hold regret
if only I could all put back….

Asterix ünd der Soul

broken

Retourne-moi mon petit profond noir et tous mes étonnantes étoiles,
l’embrasse de la vraie vie sur ma poitrine et sur mes épaules,
constant fil à suivre vers le fin d’une monde qui me bouleverse
et à la ligne, on recommence depuis le début de l’histoire vers les éternelles….

Hope and dreams I’ve lost them all and need them back,
I’ll have to leave and die and hurt and kill to move my feet,
and heart-shaped doodle paper may burn but won’t give heat;
in the morning I wake to part and you, my love, can have my heart,
already far, my eyes are blind, legs will follow and I hope a soul;
but, hey, don’t tell the world…

The game

gambler by keid 89

Uphill Kinsley road in a house where no soul passes
we’re all naked playing cards with the demons and the horses
and I dare you throw the dices in the middle of our game and score a five,
for heelless whispers without name may take your purpose off it’s way
and retired pastor’s preaches describe good reasons to remain
to put your boots aside and come and play with cards and chains…

Old floor screeches and there are steps in the dust
nothings moves through the cloud that nests in the house,
the furniture is covered by blankets that long lost their white
the stairs are heavy under memories that fell off your hair
and you are in bed with a ghost that did not even start to smoke,
and the carpet is gone between midnight and again…

Stick-figures are hiding aces and queens in the paintings below,
the gramophone box speaks in a thong that isn’t taught anymore
and there are dots and lines and the Pharaoh’s eyes on the walls,
the postbox outside is filled with grains of sweat and stories of war
and the bus never stops and the yard is a savanna of sorts
and you my friend have scored a five and forgot to ever go home…

Nașterea

Return to wonderland

Am să te rănesc…am să te ucid fără să te ating,
sunt făcut din ițe, din firele de iarbă, sunt făcut din prea multe nuanțe,
și o să te doară, când am să te pictez în culori de toamnă,
nu sunt eu salvarea, șoaptele sunt vorbe menite să coboare înserarea peste fruntea ta…
fugi acum cât mai departe, rupe-te de zările cu nori,
eu ard ca o speranță, dar focul mistuie ninsori
iubit-o pașii ți-i îndreaptă spre certitudini nu spre noi;
eu sunt durat în piatră, rece ca torentul ce mă spală,
poate oare mâna ta așezată peste maluri să sădească ghindă?
Poți să înțelegi tu oare,
să te iubesc și să nu te chem la închinare,
să îți scriu în rostiri numele de fecioară fără să-l citesc sub cruce,
că am să spulber vise și am să răstorn credințe?
Poate ai să mă ierți când soarele răsare,
poate vei schița un zâmbet când ai să vezi un spectru al zilelor trecute,
sau vei trece mai departe,
frumoasă din orele cu basme,
dar mai presus de toate îți doresc să guști din nemurire,
așa cum tu nu vei putea înțelege,
femeie, că dimineața nunții noastre a fost pe veșnicie…

Frumoasa mea

woman_statue-wallpaper-800x600

Frumoasa mea cu pașii sprinteni aruncați spre soare
unde te îndrepți când tu renaști din Mare?

Cu pieptul gol și inima închegată
ai stat cu fața în culori și fruntea descrețită
piatră celor nesupuși și altar de cutezanță,
iar cu sărutări aprinse peste buzele durate-n gheață
și lungi mătănii înecate la ceasuri de tăgadă
ai rămas iubito-n bolta templelor de altă dată.

Flori sădite în taină
cresc acum la capete de zori netulburate
și în adâncuri ce privesc spre o stea de miază-noapte e roua dinspre vară
și inele de speranță în somnul fără vise
și tânăra fecioară cu stâncile deschise…

Dar n-ai să fii nicicând așa frumoasă precum erai în seara de sub ape
ascunsă în gânduri de departe și în umbrele curate,
necunoscută ce ai răsărit pe-a mea cărare în ziua fără întrebare…

Morning sonata

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I’m writing you a letter under the morning star
an expert chaining of words to unfold pages you wouldn’t dare touch otherwise,
signs and points and funny little curved bars
on the last breath of a tall green murdered sequoia tree,
in my own words as you can see,
“Good fuckin’ morning, little plush sweet baby!”

Before sunrise, time is all that still remains for there’s no ending to its fall
dreams are gone, the clay is cold, pick-pockets won’t find things to mold,
and I am gone, far away, overseas, hunting trolls…

Wake up prisoner of sight,
the day was brought to you by a brother of the cheating sun,
load your guns with courage and take a solid stand
for morning always rolls upon both the faithful and the sin
and one shall rise and one shall part
when fire hits the Queen of Hearts..

Paper planes are telling stories in the dawn of March Hare’s spring,
fierce claw paintings drawn by starlight shiver
they’re like whispers of a spark soon a tribute to the dark,
and I’m writing you a letter starting with the eye
words and thoughts and feelings with commas at the end,
a book with glitter starving hands.

Weather changes

Dying Fairy - Midonala @ DeviantART

Dying Fairy – Midonala @ DeviantART

Music,
if not for the sound that caresses my mind I would be lost for a ghost
and steps I took on the ladder that forms through the roof, would be all wrong,
I open the door to the last lighthouse on the Sailer’s Shore
follow the rope, down the slope, along with Hope and a word she wrote,
eyes shut,
they sing, to the future that I bring,
emotions and stars stuck in a jar, up on a highest shelf, far from all…

She walked no more and the shadows were gone,
standing still I grabbed for the will
and hold on tight to things that she liked, dreams too dear to be shared,
one foot stalking another, her neck is a pillar to weather
and it snows with feathers as the world turns dry,
old books turn to whispers and one spring voices its cry,
music…

Of light and darkness

Sail Away by Liz Jardine

Anxiety builds up in my bones like flesh on a limb,
my gut hurts from feelings I’ve held within
and curious enough I’m no longer seventeen, nor eighteen,
I postpone my life,
I live for the time in between
I have a lover, my parents and the world I’m in
and yet to find a switch to seize a time to breathe, to fill up my lungs with lasting seed,
I am lost in my dream, away from the shore, in a swim to escape boredom…
Things have a way to unfold on their own and nobody knows where they go,
I am stranded on an island with a horn to blow to scare off the night and keep away the crows
and sand grows into people that leave trails to the deep,
I play a record on a silent gramophone, the same old song I also can play on my own..
I turn my face away from the door, but my eyes remain in place and I can’t see anymore
whispers I only recall from days gone and days before, have crafted a ship and I’m stuck on the floor
and the wind blows and no one knows if it lasts or it goes,
and I can pray to countless stars above or take out my heart and run,
ropes will be cut if I am to sail, guarded by hope and a guided trust, the story unfolds as carved on stone,
far in the wild I’m preparing to build a home years before it starts to snow…

Autumn winds

Summer haze I want them back, the autumn leafs upon my feet
rainy mornings take defeat when chilly weather’s what I need
forest green and grizzly bears come around and make me care
I’m more alive in cricket’s night when the stars are burning bright…

I’m alone but lonely days are far gone as summer haze,
woolen sweaters, warmly  caps and the world my arms can grab
I rise my voice and I scream words I for too long held within,
autumn winds stumble in, kiss my eyes and blow my dreams…

Dancing up the cliffs to where the youngsters slip into  the deep
I see it all from rise to dawn, thoughts emerging from the sun,
moonshine bumping into clouds, answers hanging by a string,
though the silence I hear them loud, the chords of paradise…

Two

Silent drops upon the ocean, oldest leafs are going down
trees are gazing at the skies with their tops gray and brown,
daring wolf is calling deep for his pack to cheer the sheep
owls are howling in the dark, there are crickets in our yard,
better close that window now, throw a log and make it warm
lighten up that candle that’s been slowly catching dust…

Close your eyes and listen up to a ticking that will stop
open up your arms and rest on the mountains in my chest,
while sandman pours the heavy dust: dreams to last…

***

Good morning, wake up on the other side
things are very much the same, you’ve been gone one more day
wanderlust blessed your feet, stay with me till we eat
then we’re out in the wild hunting bears and falling stars,
what if this is who we really are?
what if we had wings and just forgot to fly?

Good night, don’t forget to write,
letter ash will bring your words to me, I’ll see you in a while
cotton dress and crafted hands, never old our story never ends…