Impressions of a sunny Sunday afternoon in the fields next to Oran(ges) mixed with wind, high clouds, sunshine in my face and an uplifting range of musical masterpieces

Sunday, 29 July 2007

 

I no longer count the sheep jumping over and under my bed,

Only the fluffy pillows piled at the foot of my innermost feelings.

 

And my head spins around and around and the sky and the clouds above

Let me know fury and the wind rustles through the trees

And I should never forget the doors that were closed when

The saxophone-player stopped existing.

 

And I believe in my own little tiny secluded world

 

a million miles away from heaven and hell.

 

Are you sorry for your beliefs? Are you sorry for your wet dreams?

Do you regret your fatigue last night

 

when I was up late drinking with friends?

 

Yes, there are people who believe in second chances,

 

who never give up on their dreams and persistently pursue,

 

with harsh perseverance, to abolish their entropies.

 

If your soul could split from your body for one hour, where would you go?

Would you go where only friendly faces dwell?

Would you see new places, exotic birds and monkeys up in trees?

 

I simply can’t see nor taste my destiny,

No one sees what I can see

Although I wouldn’t want to see what I can see so clearly

 

It is my own, my own, the wind, the rain, the stars,the maple trees and their leaves, the birch, the bees, the clouds, the stratus cumulus, the nimbus stratus, the hives and the cars, the automobiles, the hills and the brick walls, the sunbeams and sunrays.

 

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

 

Seems to be the answer for anything…. Anything… anything… anything… in its wrong place.

 

Yes, I do.

Yes, it is.

Hell, it is.

I tried.

 

In fact, I do.

Yes, I do, very deeply.

Are you?

 

It isn’t? I don’t believe you.

 

Pourquoi l’éxposé de mon âme?

You could have it so much better :

-          you’ve got the soul

-          you’ve got the voice

-          you’ve got the legs

-          you’ve got the chin

-          you’ve got the ears (sometimes)

-          you’ve got the body

-          you’ve got the attitude

Why not, indeed?

 

The Birds

are the keepers of our secrets,
as they saw us were we lay.

Who said

Why are you sweating, she said,

I’m not feeling too well, he said,

You always look tired, she said.

And she leaned over the counter as she

Pressed her lips to his,

Lost her balance and dropped her mobile.

You’re quite clumsy, you know, he said.

 

And while she said he’s sweating to death,

The world suddenly started turning

At a much faster pace, she said,

People die of unnatural behaviour,

And he looked at her in disbelief, assuring her

Not to let her guard down that easily.

You always look tired, he said.

 

And he couldn’t feel his feet on the ground

Because his nose was high up in the air,

I’ve been sitting here since I don’t know when,

So he was rather pissed off when she,

In a subtle move, locked her lips to his,

Why you keep doing that, he said.

You always look tired, she said.

 

Time is love, he philosophies,

Not when you’ve run out of it

it’s either wasted or doomed, she said.

And he never minded that sweetness of hers

When she pursed her lips.

I’m not feeling too well, he said.

 

Whoever does always looks tired, she said.

Metamorphosis

A bird in the sunlight

A step through the city

Going anywhere

 

A hole in your soul

A heart cold as coal

Going nowhere

 

Sunlight heats up the earth

Every lake and every sea

The moon shines into your heart

Kills love and kills your dreams

 

We take books out of shelves

Read them and rewrite them for ourselves

 

A rainbow underneath the sun

Beyond dark clouds and rain

Going nowhere

 

A hum of a bee near your ear

A tongue with honey, my dear

Going anywhere

 

A velvet rope

A purple butterfly

Going anywhere

 

Going nowhere

Going anywhere