Whenever I
find myself
back on the Mainland,
there'll be at least
three, four,
maybe
half a dozen
silently heart-stopping
little moments
when I
see someone who
might just
be who you
are now.

A tomato entreat
this noteworthy beat
so meaty the leaves that the seeds
forget a triumph in heat.  

A true measure in taste and
discover this variety that the sauce tastes great.

Beware of falsehoods
That's what the cards told me
Now the curtain is rising
And it's not pretty to see

The bridges are long gone
But the evil still breeds
What's going to happen to us and me?

Where is our Shepherd
When we need him dear?
Isn't there much more to life
Than just blood and tears?

A hot steel rhino
Drowns a city in its screams
What's going to happen to them and me?

The accursed notebook
Earns its stars and stripes
The eagle is grounded
While the magpies take flight

A young grim reaper
Brings his scythe to a sheen
What's going to happen to him and me?

Here lies Jonny Boy
And his fall from grace
All his strings are breaking
And he realizes too late

Forgive me Claudine
For the bitterness I keep
What's going to happen to you and me?

Brains are frying
And hearts are spilled
The more we hurt now
The longer it takes to heal

Have I still a long way
Before I lay down and sleep?
What's going to happen to all and me?

Where are you now, dear Shepherd?
Can you hear me?
Can we save ourselves?

The napalan man in a violet cape  
descended the stair with a lopsided gait
a wretched procession, subscribers in cue
rattling off as they stream from the pew  

sounds and smells from a shadowy place
a catholic priest to gin up base
lanterns strung from bolted doors
cobbled streets and wooden floors  

stepping stones and iron bell
fortified by the citadel
hallowed halls and sepulcher
dragon cane for the horse drawn tour

castle turret,  archer holes
centaur scribed in chamber bowls
garden columns in courtyard view
the blood ballet and hullabaloo  

ancient tombs on warrior grounds
gods and saints who made their rounds
goliath still with battered scythe
knelt in prayer and mummified  

battle fires and crowds that roar
gallows, caves, abysmal war  
gargoyles flock the terraced *****
pearly gates to bring on hope  

serpents, snakes and burning ash
lava bombs and trident clash
mariners drift in absentee
as neptune rises from the Tyrrhenian Sea

the wind carries me to an island
floating through my memories
I’ve glided through the past
my heart is yearning to go back
to summer roast duck
in the Swedish city,
not far from the train
that takes us back home
or the ferry to Bornholm
the island my heart desires
freedom on a bike
rolling hills to my right,
filled with fields of wild lavender
as well as the aimless lone windmill
to my left, with my arms spread wide
my head tilted back
coasting down the hill,
is the vast expanse of the ocean
the blue that meets the clear skyline
the air is hot and sticky
yet the sun beams leaving a hot burn
I can feel this day,
if I just shut my eyes
as if I were on the island
which was not far from home
when the ferry took us back
Home, where the people are themselves
where they depend on each other
their culture unites them
in a city I fell in love with
in a way I’ve never loved before
Copenhagen

I love you like I can never love another