she
watched him
as he did the breakfast-dishes
walked out the door
not noticing her face

she
went out
looking everywhere
for a peace of hope on a face

he
riding his car
did not know
what the word 'love'
meant

me
seeing her face
not noticing the meaning
of the things that didn't change

he
coming home
only asks what she made for dinner

she
watching him eat
couldn't explain
why her food turned cold

evening
even colder then the day before
and she
embraced
her nothingness

I need to stab myself
get my blood flowing
red warmth to promise me I'm still alife

I need to stab myself
open up my heart
tonight, madness is better than feeling nothing

I need to stab myself
to get the juice of life pass my own borders
My heart's a prison, I need to be free

I've built walls
Thousands
years of therapy won't break them down
I've muted my feelings
Along with hopes and dreams

I need to stab myself
just in need to feel something
even when it's only pain I'm letting in

beautiful
imperfect
i can list a thousand things
that i've done wrong

beautiful
so guilty
there's blackness inside
my heart

beautiful
so tired
strugling to stay alife

beautiful
forgiven
today Christ makes a new start with me

i'm a leaf
and my tree left me
some months ago
or: he set me free

there was
a lot of wind
so i'm taking my time
to reach to ground

i wake up
still falling
i go to sleep
still falling

i sit in a train
-falling-
and suddenly a song makes me cry
(tears falling)

i lie to friends
tell them i'm doing okay
i do not tell i'm actually skydiving
without a parachute

the wind, a twirl of emotions
plays with me
lifts me up just enough
so i can keep on falling

and i still haven't reached the ground

i'm still kind of alife

and everything i do is part of that movement called falling

will i ever reach the end?
yes!
and it will not be a crash
i will be catched
my fall is not unnoticed
my pain is not unseen

my Catcher
is watching me
knew i would fall before i knew there was a tree
and i can keep on falling
because i'll fall in His hand

one word
to describe
everything inside me

one word
to show you my heart

how could i ever?
what word would i use?

secret

desire

lonely

poetic

heartbeating

alife

but all these things i'm not
and all these words are just
denying who i am

in my nursing home room within these carpeted halls,who do you see? probably a sharp tongued old woman with polident kept dentures, a white mane of unruly hair,thick ankles in short socks vein lined legs, a portly shaped body draped in   a cotton patterned nightgown covering a depends.pictures on the wall of old memories,with alife slowly heading to a closing chapter. but I see a young girl of twenty three holding the arm of a world war two soldier,standing with me before the altar exchanging vows.the hospital picture with my nursing first born son of six sons.a house  on holidays filled with bubbling laughter, and welcome toasts with a bountiful  food table. a granddaughter who finished at the top of her class ready to defend those falsely accused pro bono. a picture of myself before marriage dancing  a first ballet.i see your youth, you see my worn down old age. I hear you speak of far away vacations,that my body and limited funds cannot take. you see a world ripe with opportunies, I see bedbaths, a bag of  waste to change,family members rarely seen . you see the hands on the wall clock not spinning fast enough for check out and the party awaiting. now in these final moments I see what you can't see,angels  coming in bursts of bright light and golden wings, to bear me away from this painful suffering life.

Sometimes I wish I was still allowed to call you sister
because it's  the most powerfull word I know
But no matter what the world does to you
and no matter how much you'll change
to become somebody nobody would call a sister
I will be here
and I will be your sister

And if life sometimes makes you so tired
you consider sleeping forever instead
please let me stand next to you
please let me keep talking until the morning
If the world hates you
let me be your world instead
And let me fight at your side
changing the world one stubborn person at a time
I promise we'll get there
I promise they will all love you some day

let me be your God until you find Him back
let me be your life boat in the storm
let me be your water bottle in a dessert
let me be your Lily in the valley of death
let me be anything that keeps you alife

I'll be your willow if you need someone to cry for you
I'll be your car if you want to get somewhere fast
I'll be a poem when you need music
I'll be a mirror, if you want to know if you're still beautiful
(because you are, with or without *******)
let me be your pillow when you're sleepy
and your cup of coffee in the morning
let me be something... anything
because I'd be anyting for you
and I'd do everything

because when my world seems too dark to keep on going
and I need something to hold
you're always the rope to pull me trough
and you're the light that keeps my heart light enough to carry it
I consider it an honour when you sleep on my spare matrass
It's a privelege to be on the other side of the line
when you're on the phone for three hours
I love how neither of us ever hangs up until our mother forces you to go to sleep
I love how you love my stuffed animals more than I do
I love how you never complain about my ***** room
I love how you can spontanously kiss my... toe
I love how you bought and cooked my favorite food when I left you my wallet
I love how you dare to be vulnerable enough to fight to be yourself
I love how you love me so much, I dare to be myself
Happyness is having a hard time keeping up with your awesomeness
Please never doubt it will catch up with us soon

And if you don't want to be my sister anymore
that's okay
you can be my brother or my sibling or anything you'd want to become
because I know nothing more powerful
than my love for you

my heart is aching
it beats your name
it's asking me to
talk about you
but I have nothing left to say

my heart is aching
it's been months since it saw you
it's hard to keep on going
hard to stay alife

my heart is aching
it wants your touch
your voice
your hope

my heart is aching
I need your love

Shall I see you again?
I WANT TO WOULD LOVE TO FEEL ALIFE AGAIN.
Want to hold your organs again, intact, in the most beautiful vessel they chose to harbor them.

Only the giggles are exuberant
And the smiles spread wide.
She'll stand tall,
Somewhat indifferent,
Always there.
Too kind,
Always listening to us
Always there for us
As a friend,
As a shoulder to lean on,
Offering comfort all day
In boredom and in panic.
She'll always be around.

Until she won't.
And I swear,
When she's gone,
Gone too far,
Someone we never noticed before
Will suddenly come alife
As if a cannon strick us
And took away arms, legs,
And paralyzing us.
We'll finally realize,
But it'll be too late.

I don't know
how much I mean to you
just that you didn't even bother
to answer that question

But I also know
I care enough about you
to want you to be
the happiest boy alife

I know
my pain is real
when hours pass
and i get silent
then i finally hear
my heart
gasping for air

I know
when art is good
my heart whispers
lines of beauty
between breathing

I know beauty
when my heart
stops beating
until i take in what i watch or hear

and i know
suffering
doesn't seem to make sense
and i would do less of that
with a smaller heart
but my heart just won't stop growing

My heart allways says
and allways screams
and often cries
until i give it the pain
mine and yours
and even the pain of the people on the news
and sometimes even pain from fiction

And my heart gets heavy
so heavy i think
it can't beat anymore
my limps ain't strong enough
to carry around all this pain inside me
my muscles are screaming to close off my heart
stop entering pain because we just
can't take it anymore
But my heart keeps adding
my heart keeps going on
'you think this is pain?
just wait for the day you get cancer
or your mother dies.
Or nature finally finds it's way to your city
and show you what real pain is all about'

every time i feel like collapsing
(i may even consider to leave life
and search for a world without pain)
my heart beats
that single knock, really saying
'I am the one carrying oxygen
and life
to every vein and ever muscle
if you think you are alife,
that's just because I turn your pain into something else
every time you hear me beat
you feel me shaking inside you
that's the sound of me fighting your pain
I chop of it's head
create life, by turning it into something else
I TURN YOUR PAIN INTO LOVE

And yes, my heart get's heavy
i look at it
and lose all hope
i am just one person
how did i collect so much pain
and how can i bear this kind of suffering?

'don't look at the pain'
my heart says
'look not at what I take in
look at what I let out
look at every day I make you get out of your bed
look at the words I make you say
turning a smile on someone's face
look at all the small acts of kindness you will do
making life a little better'
my heart says 'it's all small steps
but every time I beat, I make this world better
every time I beat, I create a little love'

'and this is all just baby steps
I am still growing up
practising
I'm learning of what I am capable
I'm preparing myself
and when I'm done
I'll show you so much love
that you'll forget
what pain even looks like
don't even ask me why you're here, because
I am beating
until I have given

All my love'

I must be delussional
people keep telling me the love of my life isn't real
and yet I talk to you
like every detail of my being
belongs to you

I must be insane
they tell me you've killed millions of innocents
and doomed even more
but I start smiling
whenever I think of you

They fill my head with arguments
reasons you couldn't be real
But my heart tells me
You're the one keeping it beating
You're the reason I'm alife

I must be delussional
believing a fairy tale?
But I wouldn't know
what to do
without
You

Here comes the strom
You have been hiding from
For years...

Your soul is jittery
And your heart
Vapour

The expectation
Of your ego
Like a landslide

Yet life
Is waiting for you
After the storm

Yet hope
That the rain
Will purge the droughts

That fire
That will eat
The ailing trees

And you
Making it out
Alife

What will happen
If you
Survive?

...the fewer that die: the more the chance to chirp-and-borrow... sparrows' crown... a grand avenue of image... some detail of narrative... no boarded-up thomas mann solipsism-esque: if i too had... a bedroom cork-lined... i'd post a request: in deviating from time, predictably "lost"... and keeping with a tradition of: space, less frequented - thereby not exactly harrowed with ownership... passed from one sentiment (ladder) to the next gluttonous serpent... as much as there was a "search" and a... "lost time"... missing the train... in search of that missed-timing and open spacing... a sober nuance... a drunk's circus... time regained: all that, which encompassed not reading the book - working from bribes... that narrative so compact... it would have to shame and shun an otherwise ideally eternal: stack of brick.

at a time when so few are dying in conflicts
of known iraq...
and... will this be one of those:
grandiosity statements that leaves
everyone exasperated?
yes... people seem to find their dog's tail
their tongue waggle so freely now:
when so much seems to have gone
so terribly wrong -
            compliance to: "the good of the people"...
when iraq was...
and what it was was also something
similar to libya -
           but i hardly think i need to
pepper my words with over-politicised
statements... i'd much prefer the use
of italics - if anything...
       yes... i am reading some horace i am
reading some ovid and i'm looking
for a memorable line - even a couplet
that's... d'uh... a couplet because it rhymes...
something akin to...
the basic categories of food:
sweet, sour, salty, bitter...
              umami...
                      i need some garnish...
i guess there might be: fudgy / doughy...
why dairy is not invoked?
  i hope to never know...
       i want to forget the point where
i find myself writing and not
eating -
i know i am missing a certain category -

i was in a park today... trying to walk off
a strained plantar fascia -
bench cigarette swedish cider...
a glory to the perfumes of autumn:
finally i can test my nose
on this fine fine palette...

       an old woman approached me
as i was gesticulating with my leg outstretched...
'i was almost assured to find you
being the owner of the dog
that ran across my path...
later the field... but then again: it was
a fox... i think...'
it wasn't a memorable conversation:
except for my reply...
'oh no... i wasn't the owner of this
said dog...
i have a shadow for a dog...'
and how politely she bid me farewell...

again: it's not bungee jumping...
it's this forever unspectacular everyday...
i like this unspectacular everyday
when one can exercise language
beyond mere formality / courtesy...

i have yet to crown myself with
relish with conversation -
that i always will staging an impromptu
that leaves the conversed with
either form of tornado or
butterfly -

            it's not a familiarity it's not
unlike a face that will be lost
under the random nature of memory
being too the erasure...
flaming 2 + 2 = 4 or some other
less mathematical and more
pronounced use of letters coming
to the fore: prominent...

my past time would be summed up
with looking approachable and
dwelling in the riddle of old age...
i know it will somehow catch up with me...
but not yet...
it's this sensibly non-oratory:
plagues of verbiage: how else
to fashion congesting the experiencce:
extracting the most of the essence
allowed...

                   like so... 'mein schatten
ist meine hund' -
   no evil cat ladies 'ere...
    no piquant scenting of feline ****...
i do admire the convenience
of having no purpose for
a leash or a muzzle...
                if i could pet a crow....
i wish i could...
but what good is (a) petting
of a crow: what good is a cage
or wings: for that matter?

       i have to return to a quasi-meditation:
to endear death with a personification:
even a consciousness where
i a *****: where i a foetus -
after all: mother dear...
       i will be born into a magic
act of mortality: i will cease to make
myself "relevant"...
perhaps that's how i musst see
death: come this faking of autumn drap...
autumn is probably...
no... nay... no... autumn is when
i arrive at: believably alife -
                                          livid: concern
with variation to the letter,
i leathered - worn and torn and
a *** life among bodies that
are amiable and dough-esque
and nothing of this tyranny of porcelain
beauty...
touched would: "someday"
decide upon... shattering into
a thousand little pieces...

        i like this testimony for
the marriage to the mediocre...
my little interlude on a bench
with a sore tendon... somehow has
to find graces among so much
abundance only a sniff's distance away...
i wish i invented the burning
colours of decay: i'd want
to bask in the colours of a dying light...
i'd want: to stand statue-esque
among the trees when
they start to imitate
forest vermin...
and begin their great adventure of
foraging....
                 such pristine economics
of nature such as these here presented:
i languish for a delight in summer...
the air is gushing with
  a thickness of indistinguishable allures:
most certainly the readily concerned
with footprints on a beach:
amnesia counter memory
counter all that pedagogy acid...

                 i open a can of synthetic
imitations of blackcurrant, raspberry...
it's swedish it's not...
accustomed to... an idea that...
synthetics' must! a pairing of apple
and mint... could be turned into a cider...
less a juggling act of two bold
statements of fully-bodied extracts...

well free lunch on me:
i can actually be somewhat poo-antic friendly
should drinking be invoked...
for the world to be this instilled -
i'd require... moi: imitation
araignée...
   the bench and its vicinity the web...
comfortably old passersby my
flies... out of no ill will:
dogs and the elders approach me:
i am yet to find myself having
said something formidable...
      
                but... if it isn't that...
i have to settle on creating something...
passable - pardonable - quirky to the point
of allowing the opposite party
no counter inclination:
there is no need to stipend an
obviousness / revoke-...

             i don't want to use a language
of either impetus or... categorical narratives...
oh look... shelter me from having
spent 3 years digesting... ah'ant(K)...
well... impetus or imperative...
jurisprudence is plagued / peppered
with synonym usage: through and thorough...

i'm still thinking: well... there's no colour
to this meagre body...
there is no shape for rummage among
dough of stone sorrow settled
for the eternity of rain: and rhyming...
a borrowed journalism of sort:
an extract at best... and that's what i must
settle for...

    it can't have accent of a certainty:
arrived at... it can't be a: denotation clarity:
hey! my name's a'bob!
no... but hardly a tactic to
exfoliate in pretentiousness -
i do have to stress that:
i somehow do... drift into this variant
of impromptu -
   i allow language its own ills
that are not befitting to a linear-ality of
topic...

                to think: this world so complex
would allow an individual to...
somehow not match it...
make synchronicity with it...
        that language has to borrow:
sharpened flints and all those base
equipment leverages to...
merely appease...
  it can't! it simply can't! be this...
celebration of: a language peacocked with
when thrown into the glorification
of tongue-tied of mediocracy...

    oddity... i am starting to grow fond
of... kæ tempest -
                  "europe is lost"...
                   unless looking for lithuania
unless looking for kosovo..
unless looking for poland ukraine
unless looking for moldova...
unless looking for: work ennobles...
work is the bone the drudgery...
unless looking for post-colonialism
unless having to make
******* tongue: poet the atlas...
the nugget treat of looking
through a microscope at society...
            unless you haven't...
woken up in a little ol' england
when having to settle for flee...
              
polar bears in poland? do these people
have access to sea?
the youth of england
come 1998 when i toyed with
the cheapest of cheap jokes...
but... there weren't any jokes:
just choking...
              i came here this tongue
is... i am arrival... an... arrival at...
bigger desires for
yet another picburger...
               пицбургэр
fake-burger... no not nothing-burger...
but most certainly not:
my tongue this: mine...
this will not belong to a zeitgeist...
this will not be scratched or later
sheltered with for:
a tongue that was used as shovel
to unearth the dead from:
the already sediment membrane
riddled clay o dough...
           custard blues no smart talking
from south london...
no need to shuffle to lay on
prompt...
              
to be this pulverised by word and image....
instilled in noir and summaging
whitey -
there's the same sterile prone to
state brick: beside those that crease
plumbing gifts and grit...
the in between us people that want
to itch with words and have
insomniac thinking -

          that i haven't stolen anything:
but acquired this tongue...
from no beside this little nostalgia for
an agony aunt...
      no... recantation from a hill-top
and a grave...
   i am not prone to speak an exhaustion
from a borrowed atlas pose...
  i have this little tongue o' me...
this little cravat sort of a pedantic
  detail...
                 i want to own the echo
and the footsteps...
              politicians have been saving
society with oratory-:
            at best: kept distance...
a byproduct of niche...
             a very local sort of extraction
process that hitched a ride on
the blues...
   and left the originators in a
stateless limbo-la-la-land...
               the thieves came and...
           by a vain-glory joke accumulation...
the readied smouldering
slab of pork... was left... untouched...
i beg to wonder:
         what was the intent
and the hunger...
                                it was oh so familiar
once upon a time.

How short is Life
A baby's breath away
The span of a rainbow
The end to a Prayer
How long is Life
A Stone's throw away
A crack in the sidewalk
Pinocchio 's nose
How deep is Life
The depth of a paper cut
Twelve feet of water
A Religious novel
How sweet is life
A family full of love
Chocolate filled with nuts
The purring of a cat
How sad is life
Alife that had no chance
Innocent behind bars
Reactions to diabetes and crimes
Whether short or long sweet or sad
We are.on hallowed ground.