If I were gone…

23 08 2015

If I were gone one chilly morning,

The coroner would find inside

Veins drenched in art, my brain unplugged

And butterflies instead of heart.





Batter me…

19 08 2015

Batter me, better me, bed with me,

Challenge me out of sleep,

Force me into a weep,

Reckless, courageous, deep

Sacredness of a blaspheme.

.

Fight with me, flout me and fly with me,

Shatter my slumbering heart,

Swinging from heavy to hard.

Let me invent you in art.

Burst me, my muse, to be.





I starved my soul…

17 08 2015

I starved my soul to mental anorexia,

Denying it food for months and months, and months

day by day,

peu à peu,

bit by bit.

Don´t take too much, sweet darling!

Don´t run that far,

be meek and petty,

finish the duty first

before you waste your time on creativity

of thought,

and hand

and feeling…

Don´t drift too far now

that you have found an anchor

to hold and to be held in bed at night.

There, there! No childish tears

here,

take a handkerchief!

Don´t be pathetic! Now,

why can´t you shut your restless eyes

effectively

and rest a bit? – forever –

… Oh, soo loong slumber has it been!

How comes I know no mass, poor stupid thing I am?

If I should go for bond and steadiness,

Well then I should be steady, mind no further mental cause

but how to polster best that little holy world of matrimonial oyster-shell of joy.

Why can´t I be as others are?

The soul too restless, and the mind too greedy tear me

from what my sense of social roles demand from me,

and

being

double,

triple,

multiple inside,

I´m full, but starving,

deaf, but hearing things

With cold numb fingertips I try to touch

here and there and over there

and end up

Being good at nothing.