
I lock the door.
The buzzing fades.
The burden of all the
outer expectations drops.
Here the flow ends
and here it springs –
where reality confides
to imagination,
distance to intomacy
and reason to frenzy.
There I am at home.
I lock the door.
The buzzing fades.
The burden of all the
outer expectations drops.
Here the flow ends
and here it springs –
where reality confides
to imagination,
distance to intomacy
and reason to frenzy.
There I am at home.
Your expectations deflected me
from the spectrum of pleasures.
I stowed my desires
into a glossy shell
to feign conformance.
I deluded myself.
Daylight beems illumed
the levied masquerade
in the brightest fakery.
Lastly I got rid of the shreds to
let my desires radiate vividly.
Her whole existence
lived in this song.
When it sounded through her phone,
she jumped off the bench.
Here in the park behind the church.
She reached out her hand
and let him in to dance.
Once I used to wait
until people turned their backs on me.
Times have changed.
Nowadays I cut grimaces
right into their faces,
but they can’t see it.
We‘re a swarm of toilers
coughed up from the gear
and flushed into the hiatus.
So we trip into dusk
but still in a daze
from the humdrum.
The revelry is wide and tempting.
And I evade the herd
to hole up on my sofa.
Yesterday we met
as different people.
We’ve grown
and now we bloom.
It’s the shift
that connects us
and it’s the memories
that guide us.
The blooming memories
will be the fruit,
it casts the seed
for new joints.
I just didn’t listen to him
when he complained once again
that I never listened to him.
Indeed,
if one day we succumb
to the view of these fools
under occupation of outrage
their rebellion will soon turn
into systematic oppression.
And yet it’d be the fools
who used the law
to annul it blindly.
They sparked the fire
in which they‘d burned.
Their blaze shall warm my hands
on the darkest days.
I’m on my way again,
to plunge back into the mill
amidst a legion of comrades.
We all assemble in this scene,
but still haven‘t fully returned
from elapsed amusements.
No one stares at each other.
We stare at something – anything.
The floor, the phone or just in the air.
I am invisible.
I feel detached
I am beyond everyday life.
I overcame continuance
and I found my stash –
Monday mornings in the subway.
His hands on the handlebars
he waited at the traffic light.
A wedding car passed by,
followed by the honking convoy.
So the boy joined in
with his bicycle bell.