29.2.2012 • ne me quitte pas (3)

ne me quitte pas (3)

“ne me quitte pas” is just
the poor excuse of an apology
is just what we hide behind
in order to not have to say
“je ne te quitterai pas”

29.2.2012 • ne me quitte pas (2)

ne me quitte pas (2)

don’t believe these fake papers
you dreamer you
I’m back to square one
only this time it’s round
smooth, almost
intangible

this song is so short
just short enough to fill a night

29.2.2012 • L.

L.

my flatmate once told me
“but you can get her back
if you really want to
can’t you?”
I should have told him
that anything can be done
what is lacked for is true will
and all the sorrow in the wide world
won’t do instead

29.2.2012 • tonight

tonight (1)

tonight
I spent the night
sobbing quietly on the floor
hoping someone you'd hear

(2)

I can write a hundred poems tonight
and it still won’t bring you back

(3)

because I’ll never ask
I’ll never ever ask

29.2.2012 • ne me quitte pas (1)

ne me quitte pas (1)

don’t leave me
please
don’t leave me
I left you already
the ill is done
we’re a world apart
a world apart
there’s no going back
in this harsh and unforgiving stage
in this game where everything goes
and nothing ever comes back
don’t leave me
you’re my only hope
and I’ve no hope
I’ll never say I love you
I love you I love you
don’t listen to me
don’t pay me any heed
just turn around
and run
into the light
my only light
is where I cannot go
so run run
and don’t look back
you’re my only hope
and I’ve no hope
no hope at all
don’t leave me

29.2.2012 • lie down

lie down

lie down on your back
let all the tears flow out
fill the apple of your cheeks
the apple of your sweetest tenderest thoughts
lie down in your lap
your heavily-laden mem’ry-bed
that creaks and groans with every stir of the mind
lie down in that little smooth lake of hair
let all the tears roll out
little bubbles of
old morning light
kept safe for some
happy occasion
but spent in solitude
like the wine of unexpected widowers
lie down on the perfumed sheets
that washed and torn and hid and cast away and burnt
still cling to that little conscious part
that wants to tell the story again
to say the words
never never never
always always
I love you
I loved you
I love you...

29.2.2012 • Sampson

Sampson

amidst the humming of my pc
the clattering of my keyboard
my erratic sighing
this regina spektor song
keeps looping softer and softer

as if when I can’t hear it any more
the pain will be gone
I’m no fool to believe that of course
but fool enough to test it
old tricks are dirty tricks

but the smaller the gap
the softer the hair and scissors and
columns and stars and
all that
jazz
the louder the silence of course
literally, as it were
each time I go through the ritual
of gently, like an old lover
touching the volume knob
each time a tram passes
and covers up this or that
part of the refrain
or that old light of the couplet
literally the silence lashes louder
and louder
at my side
its vicious claws searching
for the gold sovereigns
sewn under my last floating rib
each time a little more frustrated
and I relish it
because the void there
needs to be sung through these little tears
these little deaths
needs me to caress the confirmation of my fears
like an old lover with
such a weary
wavering deft hand
rough of skin
soft of touch
a smile sown with sorrow
and reaped in humble simplicity
as only the foolish wise can muster–
that at least we may yet attain
my poor, poor yorick

29.2.2012 • Brel

Brel

no no more your sweet prince
every heavy drop of rain resonates with my hid tears
my groans fill subliminal caverns where
each stalactite drips into a bottomless quagmire
quenching no substantial thirst
undeclared unrelenting and unrequited
irrevocably the matter of facts
the matter of fact
the stuff of dreams lost in the mists of time
endless threads fighting amidst garbled type
preacherless our little temple
a little dome forlorn and ruinous
soon to be forgotten

27.2.2012 • today is cancelled / go back to bed

today is cancelled
go back to bed

for a moment I believed it
it was as if
I was a child again
as if being ill was half a blessing again
keeping the monster of school at bay
and the chicken soup and orange juice flowing
the abundance of motherly love
and of childlike blamelessness
listlessness
kids don't need lists
they have their alter mundi
millions of other worlds vast as the stars
and it's not even escapism
when they travel there

the walls are shutting me out
into the void
blueberry red
and carrot purple
cast away forever
legos by the fireplace
cotton snow under the christmas tree
lagged behind
toy castles toy ships toy wars
crosses promises hopes
faded

I have no life apart
no life apart from these
from these trifles

so what what
am I doing roving this world
that should by rights
be purple and be red
or not at all?

13.2.2012 • the world

I imagine the world
like that little dog
pushed each time a little further
with each gentle little nudge
of the raging traffic
(the cars make such an uplifting
special effects kind of sound
as they pass by)
I have difficulties
trying to think of the earth as round
(maybe because it isn't but)
I see it all crumbled
into a shapeless
mass of dirty carton
I picture its constituent polygons
labouredly and asymmetrically cut
more grotesque than baroque
and all roughed up
you couldn't tell it was
meant to approximate
a sphere
if you hadn't had a tv
as a kid
I feel it weighing
on every little man's
shoulders
like a little
canvas bag
filled with little
little roughed
up lead
balls
disjunct

disjunct
defunct

like a deathless
valley stinking
of rotten flesh
filled with
the carcasses of
the expectant dead
the gaping
the smirking
the hopeless dead
bound to this eternal loop–
s eternal loop–
s eternal loop–
s eternal loop–
s eter–

(breathe)

only the worms there have any real fun

2.2.2012 • words

words

and all the words lay bare
like alien bishops
preaching in an alien land
non-sense their profoundest meaning
their sentiments unexpressed
their feelings left unfelt
abandoned at the port
of their old delight

2.2.2012 • λόγια

The result of various urgings, from various friends and foes, to write in Greek.

λόγια

τα λόγια
οι λέξεις
σαν μικρά κουτάκια
περισσότερο τοιχώματα παρά χώρος
και πάντα κλειστά
υπερπλήρη έννοιας και βάθους
δεν έχουν ίχνος κενού
για να χωρέσουν αυτήν την ιστορία
η αληθινή θλίψη δεν έχει θέση σ' αυτά
ίσως γι' αυτό να λέγεται στεναχώρια


words
[a hasty translation of the Greek above; italicized are passages which were significantly changed.]

words,
words,
words...
like little boxes
more walls than space
and always shut
full to bursting with meaning and depth
they have no void
to fit this story in
true sorrow has no place in them
perhaps the void that sorrow brings
to mind and body both
needs another void to fit into