Futile

- stirred surface

- current runs free

- still

- in motion

- this turbulence

- inside of me


- slow panic

- seeping through

- perfect tranquillity

- ... touched


Remind me where to put the blame

On You



.

Reversed retrospect

I watched this coming and going
of innuendo's
and kept my eyes at bay
..by close inspection:
a preliminary justice of the mind
before we fail to rise

Or is it I
who falls?
My thoughts that tumble
An interpretation
of MY fault
before I stumble
over threshold heights

- straight into harms way
where truth is never the same
Dear old friend
I know your image well
and that's not what's in a name

These threads
have been mistaken before
and by now play their part
Oscar-worthy well
Surprise and recognition:
Coincidence, no admission
There's a difference
I dare you to taste and tell

But still, here I am coming around
slowly adjusting the blinders routine
Hesitantly following footprints
through smoke and mirrors
if you really want to know what I am seeing

Lift this shield against danger
One I understand
but have never been ...
able to be anything
..but observant
outspoken from within


.

Arable at last

those blasted roots
cannot be pulled
no vaccination grown
or exorcist available

cure me of this re-occurrence
this place of no turn
every bud: pre-produce of flower
warn me against your memorable sweet scent
speak not to me of history
for we have none

head above the mowing field
ploughed ferociously
come back, and I'm again
undone


.

Take heart

thrown
from overextended stay
caught in deliberation
further away
from little did we know

one caress was all ...

what defines
this fortuitous world
we're now shown

as we fall and align,
stumbling
into perfect exhilaration


.

Space

Euclid's geometric postulates:

who advances
is forever alone

put your fingerprint
right there
and not be still,
but still unknown

a maiden piece of paper
in a new world to explore

an interval
between the lines

always full of open spaces
reaching for a place to be
but falling into unsure

and not unlike the elements,
that by now have flown,
we are also drawing blanks

where all logic of this you and I
should have been forever,
like axioms, cut in stone

polite society still ranks
and truth of our existence
is left undecidedly postponed


.

Mashup

cut-up from several

severed by form

then paste

cast into format

where no glue can contain

shearing edges of souls

leaving remnants of pain

in their haste

to fly in all directions

and get away



.

fait accompli

I am searching for sympathy in sound

but sometimes
even truth cannot unveil
the complexity
of initial intent

and I hate the seconds, minutes
turning into hours and days

weeks and months
become eventually years
of expectations

whispers fade
and memory recreates
a different, bearable story;
but, ending always in finding
what we cannot grasp

this cycle encircles us again
and again
until every moment of slumber is welcome:
close me in to forget

a synchronised drumming
turning fractions into fractures
in hours, days and months
...
of racing up that slope

where we are always one second too-late in time
desire is a blinding eye to the die
that's been already cast

so haunt me,
but I will fight your expectations
that when we finally start meeting,
will stop beating
one second, too fast



.

Posture

many composed drafts later
but still,
empty space is not enough

no memories left of words unsaid
sealed,
don't cough up

tongue tied,
knotted deep within
fear confused with pride
emotion always with sin

and I am envious
of your eyes;
see this wind
not feel its pain, to the core
recognise the folly:
this umbrella against the rain
but,
no more

trade my saline taste
detach, my shoulder
take these senses;
secure this cast
become the beholder

forsake etch, take-in sight

where can I find this place
of no more torment

my impressed stance in which to hide



.

Away

who stopped the rain from falling
who summoned this wind
to cast that screen of white fluff
away, into the blue
we name this, no more
we banish to acknowledge; we rebuff

who knew this self fulfilling prophecy
of pain from loosing over-absorbability
what judgement lies in that?
who knows what we have lost
what gave away adaptive clarity?
what we won't miss until once had


.

Sliding doors

Down the hall
through the sliding doors
and behind that glass wall

you are waving

And I look around
at whom you see
anticipating
a wake up call

Come back to me

From behind that glass wall
through the sliding doors
and down the hall

But I'm no longer waiting

I am free


.