#magritte
A hot air balloon hung motionless
in the sky, we stepped out
of the vintage car
by some inventory
on the cobblestones
behind us, my older self stood
on the iron bridge watching
how we and the dog looked
around in the new world
which rose
half-dreamed, half in brick
from the mist of the old
Belgian land beneath
the clouds of time
and the threat
of the wind that will
blow away everything
dear to us
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 5:21 AM UTC
I close my eyes, and I am a tree;
I close my eyes and I ride, pedaling, arms stretched out like a bird in flight, like dandelions towards the sun.
Above me, leaves rustle, stars chime, chorusing with the hum of high-voltage lines.
The world is blue like Magritte's September.
I close my eyes, and time flows like a stream, emerging from an ancient riverbed.
Perhaps that's why my pace, as I move through the grove of youth is so strange - because time exists for me for two months a year.
Questions that have no answers.
Do questions have answers, really?
Every answer seems fictitious.
Life is a relationship with a pathological liar, and if you're lucky, he doesn't abuse you further.
I'm cycling downhill, crickets in the bushes warming themselves by rubbing legs together.
It's warm and dry, but the air is cool and wet - like a compress on a bruised knee.
I tend to keep hitting my head.
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 5:17 AM UTC
the light is raging, colours are hiding
when we hide our hearts full of dusk
we are mercenaries of ensoulment
listening to this manic-depressive couple,
power and helplessness, makes one wanna scream:
darkness is vulnerable too
clockwise the mind in action flows looking for its anti-time,
our actions can stand as tall us
anticlockwise is a flow into the trance of the unknown
into foreign bodies full of the tension of keeping the light
apart from day
Magritte is dreaming his hat, Freud his pipe
The Empire of Light perhaps
Ceci est une pipe, a vital voyeurism, the pleasure of stirring up
so many levels to listen for their hidden symbols
we are antiparticles for each other, when we collide reality starts screaming for each soul to witness
but a homeless pain possesses our dreams
unable to recognize the ********** of caring
too tired for rage, I am only wondering
where to find the necessary love for this fiery world
I ask the trees, the birds, the mind of the wind,
I'll pray for them to teach me their grace
Nov 24, 2023
Nov 24, 2023 at 11:39 AM UTC