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Andrus Feb 2021
How we’d dance in our little room
to the tunes of Sinatra and Buble
Your feet on top of mine
As we swayed side to side

I loved our special dance
We knew not of this art
but we danced with freedom
and moved by chance


Andrus
Andrus Nov 2020
Maybe one day
We’d run into each other
Outside a cafe like this
In the heart of Paris

Two strangers who have
been in love for years

Andrus
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
it was only supposed to have lasted
from the 22nd March till tomorrow,
the 19th of April...
               but looking at it,
I'll be spending an extra month in
this once, formerly, town with
a bright future, communist red,
where, once upon a time,
buildings that could house:
   2 x 10 x 4 = 80 families sprouted
out of thin air,
like steroid mushrooms after
the first rains of autumn...
              and the local team played
in the ekstraklasa...
    and this that and the other...
now... civitas emeritus...
town of pensioners and
niedobitków... the rest of rats
jumped ship...
          once around 17,000+
men employed in the steel works...
now? plenty of greenery,
the odd alcoholic teaching tango
and enough empty space and timeless
vacancy to fill up...
the ongoing retirement of 20 odd years
of my grandfather... 2ho's brain
is slowly being eaten away...
by, as he says, in the pospolity zór...
leń... no killer proteins just yet,
but something tells me being the last
person standing among your
friends, nuanced friends and
all the formality of acquiantences
can do the head in.
   small town, small business,
I don't even know if I can be bothered
to hit the road and head up to
Marienburg...
       honestly pains me, but I wish
a ******* termite would climb into
Sienkiewicz's krzyżacy...
the book is killing me...
   and even if I did make it to Marienburg,
i'd come back and still find
the grueling grill and the żelazna
                     dziewica
about
to poke my eyes out...
   classic, yes, pillar of
literary national pride, probably,
necessary export? in film alone...
    plus
   - I heard termites find paper like
some sort of Oriental delicacy equivalent
to man and the world and his
whorrish-glam Harrod's oysters...
   only Arabs and Harrod's and that
**** pile of glitter is like puke on canvas
by *******... a question of conneisours,
or car boot sale enthusiasts of Essex County.
- just one more month,
far far away, from the dirge of London,
and the subsequent outer suburban
    labyrinth of weeding out middles and clues
and classes in counting hairs on
the heads of brooms, contra: violin bows...
and never to my liking the spectacle
of spring on that ****** island...
cherry blossom so rare,
unlike that street in Bonn,
                               Spring on the continent
in general, not to mention the eyes
becoming more and more used
to the monochrome homogeneity...
with me, as the sole importer,
the sole Marco Polo who came from
a vicinity of the East End Caravan
with 'indu spices, and cooked the old
farts curry...
                           plus the intresting news
regarding an organisation, O.N.R.
                                  i never thought they might
exist, good to know that there are
exteme, fringe groups out there,
worthy contenders with the mainstream
mullets
...
                      and yes, Marienburg
will definitely continue to look better on
a postcard than in real life...
                                 a walk in fresh air,
a beer and sandwich an I'm off to the land
of Nod... dreaming of sleeping
and waking and finding something
between a stash of: pearls,
        eggs, silver eggs, silver gooey tadpoles,
silver-azure frog spawn...
      and then falling back to sleep in
my dream, and subsequently waking
to my grandfather nagging my grandfather...
which ends up with a cigarette
and a consolidatory piece of
mole mound cake for each of us...
       and the day is spent...
                I'd have to be daft not to "hide"
in this outpost, learning more and more
about the: kashubians, der pyry...
          hanysy (warsaw shlang für
scheiße, schlauß) / silesians...
     rzeszowskie rubieże...
      zór mazowsze (masovia)
                           krakusy i czystosze...  
and what about that cwaniak
warszawski, z prahi, ten... andrus?
swa-vo-merrh, piszem sławomir...
tak samo jak ten goalkeeper a t'
'amtem in crux: golkiper...
                          prosze bardzo, prosze prosze...
gramatycznie to raz,
                       a fonetycznie, to dwa.
I mean, why would I leave this outpost,
when there is absolutely no reason to
write any form of existential angst...
where I can be told:
born on the 15th of May,
          the day when Saint Sophia takes
to blooming lilac, when lilac wakes...
back in England you really have to scout
for spring, then again daffodils are not
trees... plus there's this missing natural
orchestral harmonium of successive waves
of some other botanical form finding
intrest, as if an reborn whisper of curiosity
and joy...
             which, your garden variety
of English... doesn't really tell you...
unless it's spring, you couldn't tell a difference
between it an soggy summer...
or for that matter, bland Victoria sponge.
but what I don't miss in the least is...
leeching drunk to the internet's blank pixel
slate...
           even I know that a sober poem
is sometimes required,
which doesn't exactly dissolve the otherwise
entrenched darting juxtapositions
and Dr. Braillesurf's stipend and in genral
streuenhirn...
        in general the Internet and fame,
based on two songs...
donkey's years since I last heard
   rizzle kicks' mama do the **** -
released in 2011, views 17+ millions...
don't ask me how an algorithm took me
to the other song...
  only heard it today
released in 2007... only heard it today...
panamore' misery business -
views?! 153+ millions, yes, that an extra
000 added to the first song...
           and still 11 years later...
     it's this sort of oddity that makes
me believe in the local government,
small cities and in genral the village life...
the neighbour and the gossip angst of
these people...
                 some say: at least they'll come
to the funeral...
                          looks like
I already found the string of planets
de Saint-Exupéry's Prince Petit visited...
and my own among them...
   good to know, that it's a small world
after all, and not some competition
to transmit a radio broadcast from
either the zenith of the Himalayas,
        or the nadir of the Marina Trench.
Andrus Oct 2020
I know how important now is
but so often I get caught up
in trying to be perfect I fail
to enjoy the little moments

The little moments that at the end
of the day become memories
The moments that help you
keep your sanity
The moments I fear I’ll realize one day  
I don’t have enough of

Andrus
Andrus Apr 2020
There is nothing more special
or beautiful as a memory
Memories piece us together
Without them we’d just be souls
untethered

Andrus
#memories #beautiful
Andrus Apr 2020
The greatest of things
happen when you least
expect them to
But when they do
Don’t fight it

Ride those waves
And let them take you
to where you are
supposed to go


                    Andrus
#universe #unexpected
Andrus Apr 2020
Long endless walks
Along foreign streets
With an endless night ahead

Our heads full of adventure
And bodies brimming with wine
Andrus
#adventure
Andrus Apr 2020
I can tell
I can see it in you
You’re not a caged bird
But a free soul that can take any form
You run your own world

                Andrus
#uncaged #freebird #live
Andrus Apr 2020
Fall in love
And dare to have your heart broken
Time and time again

Cause who are we if not lovers
And lovers fear no hurt

In this world that’s already hurting
Love might just be the answer


Andrus
#love #dare #fearless
Andrus Apr 2020
We’re all on this journey
to make our lives memorable
To be remembered by the
world as an achiever
To be known as
a difference maker
To be thought of as
a loving friend and humble peer
To be loved by the memory
of someone dear

But if the world were to end tomorrow
I’d just like to be remembered  


                    Andrus
#journey #remember #life

— The End —