Nick Drake

You never listened with me to parasite

Nick Drake was my person and you said you thought his music is gay
your immaturity cuts deep into raw flesh

Now Nick puts me into this mood
he beams me back to the dark side of the moon
No free ride for you and me no, no more never
won't you give me a free ride
oh and the guitar is somber and dark like an all too present dream
it makes me want to cry
the joy of sharing is suffocating my loneliness

the valley below

the pain ebbs in again
it s okay, okay, okay,
okay, i can hear circkets again, ancient sounds and music
oh but how it hurts
i am riding the wave again,
riding it again, down into the valley
only little fires lit up
a last one, time again
and i go, go, go

can hear the congas, can hear them now, underlying, quietly,
filling
the spaces between
carrying me to the night
one more time
a little time just one
small
little sparklets flying through the sky
falling from my finger tips
and you, you can you hear them
whispering
ebbing in
ebbing out
on wind waves
tapping on your skin
like little small sparks
waking up the dark
waking, waking, waking the soft again

I Have No Regrets Because I Have Loved

11/22/06
This really is Good Bye (as in God Bless Ye, which it is derived from)
say nothing no more
wonder
awe
gazing in the distance
i caught the glimpse of your eye
out of the glimpse of my eye
my mouth smells of fresh love
like cotton beds in the morning
fluttering like wings in the air
somebody's loving hands have
smitten me with miracles
I love your face
I love your voice
I love your heart
I love you
Your courage and your searching
Your hands
Your touch
Your feet
Your chest
Your lips
Your hips
The secrets
Can't ever forget what you taught me
I'll try and be true
To myself and you
To whatever it was that was calling you
Can't ever forget how it felt to kiss you
Again and again
Like coming home
This really makes me eyes wet
And your memory lingers
Between my thighs with sweet sighs
To see you in the morning sun
And in the moonlight
Feeling your embrace like a nest
Me nestled into your arms
Saying I love you
and meaning it.

black coat

how he entered the room
in his black coat
and black glasses too
black curls framing his pale face
all so put together

i knew
but nobody else could have been able to see
the storm of destruction
beneath it all
the utter despair and bottomless abyss of fear
just seconds away
before we found back into each other's arms

it was all so surreal
and so good
and so crazy
sadness distorted by the extremity of the situation

how he walks
and talks
so tall
and so good
they know that
that they can see.



fragility

geometry

he called when we walked to the mac store. telling me about his cousins baby and you asked who he was. my computer died now and i moved and we are gonna hang out. funny how things can get wrapped. i am scared but sometimes that's how it will be. like you couldn't believe that you followed through with it. that you really did it. how devastated you were. i guess i can be devastated too, despite all reason and better knowing it. i can't think too much about it otherwise i will have to run into the ocean and just dive away into a new universe where different things are possible.

nothing is impossible.

in a way that is reassuring. but there certainly is something about crossroads and which way you take. sometimes there is no turning back only moving on.

i hope this road will lead us to freedom and the love we've been looking and living for. because you know, despite it all, I Love You as it is and as it will be.

like my dad said...

first love never dies

my heart is scared, fluttering inside my chest, I have to admit I still do of course naturally miss You and refuse to believe that this is it. Against my better judgement of course. when you saw me you said, jesus, you are a mess, get yourself off the floor I did it too, get yourself together and try to move on but all I really wanted to do is to refuse any more growing commands and rest in the earth for a while. Or on clouds. I just want you to still share special moments with me, let me know about songs and thoughts and nothing whatever anymore.
okay. that's that!
and the other thing: I am scared shitless thinking of leaving. it's going to be so tough .I am not trying to talk myself into it it's just, I KNOW it.
fuck. oh well. i was really really scared coming here too. so it's fair, it's okay, it's normal.
but I am a wreck right now.

strange

It is the strangest
how i ride into the evening along that coast
and feel this definite feeling
so blurred but distinct
too distinct almost
but even it's distinction doesn't make me so sad

and it makes me wonder

all those strange days that found us

and here i am
here we are
apart

and i still wait for the hurting

In the summer it was different, many life times ago
when I knew it wasn't done
I knew there was some more writing to be done
even with you at the other side of the moon
I knew it
We both did
And I hear you saying I feel bad for you, do you have fun? Don't be sad...
And I am surprised to be honest when I say I am happier and don't feel bad for me I know my kind of fun.
How about you? do You miss me? do you have fun? do you feel sad?
Do you crave time with me, closeness to me?

Maybe we are just gone. Gone with the wind. And nobody knows if we ll meet again, we might, we can, but this time it feels free and soft like a blue kissed summer wind

it's almost pathetic
how i wish
this was true
for anyone who is dying inside
i m incapable of telling
whether there is sarcasm or zynical thought involved
i just throw myself at the idea and cling to it for it not to disappear like yet another mirage in this desert i'm finding myself in.
thirsty for miracles.
real life miracles such as
change is possible

yesterday night... he asked me why. why do you fall for guys like me. who are dying inside.
and i cried inside.
i can only guess.

books

i am in a library now.
i have a library card
and when the doors swing open we enter another world
people, with noses buried deep in books and thought
looking like mice
and
the sun is shining out there
and
my love is hiding behind the blankets of confusion
but i know
it is there

Sunset: Loving who is dying inside.

The Dark Side Of The Moon

Yesterday I read a column in the Times about an online project that asks people to tell their life story in only six words. Hemingway style.
This is mine: Sunset: Loving who is dying inside.

you don't know what it's like he says and spits on the roof. his wary hand doesn't find the cigarette, stuck in the corner of his mouth, it went out, out like his eyes died just seconds ago and the lighter is just a faint replica of fires we once knew, faded memories...
all this, i have seen before and I don't have much time. The old brickstone building, with the mysterious redlit windows in the dark. The Japanese Restaurant I won't ever afford. The hills. The castle. The street. The dirt. The dizziness of life on the fast lane.
I swallow some tears, they are salty. Look away. Look back. His words tumble into the somber darkness like puppies that just learned to walk. I could feed them. Heed them. But I don't. Tonight I just listen. Hold his arms. His back. His heart.
I know that I don't know. At least that much. How can such a lucky person and such an unlucky person be so in love?
That's what I would like to know sometimes.

Later, on my old futon that I bought for twenty bucks from the creepy old Russian guy, I swayed back and forth between heart beats and heavy breathing.
You know nothing about what it's like to love someone who is dying inside.

dazed and confused

I admit that I'm still confused. That I still don't get it. I tried. Went there, not all the way but some of it. Fell in love with those who went. Blue comes to mind, by Joni Mitchell. She kind of puts it the way I felt.
But today in the morning I woke up with a cry in my throat with an urgent urge to bury my head in pillows and keep the blinds shut and just wallow in my confusion and sadness and mourn the foggy mysteries hidden beneath societies faces.
The beautiful melodies of the nearby church bells wafted through shut windows and blinds. His hands told me something his laughter his voice, but maybe I wanted words, explanations, empty rationalized figures drawn into the air between us.
Why is it 'normal'? I don't know life that way. Why do people need to drink and be dazed, why does it seem so normal to go and have a drink at a bar if you wanna go out and have fun?? My sister just tells me I can figure shit out only for myself. I guess so. But I just don't know life that way. I know it is akward to talk about it like that. I am not throwing stones. I am just really confused and sad. Sad because i don't understand and because obviously I think my way is a beautiful one. I guess I am not alone. Isn't that what the whole world keeps fighting about??

I doubt
I wonder
That there ever could be true understanding...Ever...




Blue, songs are like tattoos
You know Ive been to sea betore
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey blue, here is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
Well therere so many sinking now
Youve got to keep thinking
You can make it thru these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs, lots of laughs
Everybodys saying that hells the hippest way to go
Well I dont think so
But Im gonna take a look around it though
Blue, I love you

Blue, here is a shell for you
Inside youll hear a sigh
A foggy lullaby
There is your song from me

she said

she said
what about your blog
and i dont have internet as i used to before
on my old street they held a gun at the site manager's head and robbed 1950
it's funny
because
the thought of leaving makes me wanna stay
but when i look at the websites of my old college in berlin
and
things you know?
i get thrilled.
awww. how amazing it all is and was
can't wait
life is too exciting

and i think
God,
how lucky I got
no offense to people who dont find luck in their lives because i know some who are blind like that
but
man
I don't know

where are you all my friends, where are you hiding now?'
certain things i dont even wanna touch anymore with my words
wounded and with raw flesh gaping at me they simmer in the heat of passions lost and forlorn.
but life goes on and is beautiful as always. there is a beauty in broken eyes and evenv though my eyes might be filled with tears in response, the light still breaks itself in them and explodes in my mind in all colors of the rainbow.
oh.
the palm trees are kissed by the last rays of the evening sun.
my thoughts wander back to when i loved david and i thought that i would belong.
or even further back to when I occupied myself with insignificant crushes that filled up my writing and longing.
in the end, a lot of those dreams where merely a reflelction of the howling of the wolves at full moon, the indefinable yearning you feel listening to 'Anna's Song' by Marvin Gaye. The glimpse at the impossible thought chance of true love in a romance.
ah.
what a life that is spinning us around.
oh my dear friends.
i can't wait to meet you again, some day, making sweet love in music, art and conversations.
i can't wait to go dancing with you again. ah, oh yeah
this is my song

a glimpse

it is repeatedly
not what is said
but the inbetween
that touches our hearts
and mends them together
in a dance
that says in silence
so much more
than anything i could ever say

.

But I remember Andi.
It is a story of words although I remember vividly how he lit his self made cigarette in the dim warm light of an old oriental lamp. His books and music collection matched my taste and the taste of his body was fresh and innocent and warm almost like it was a good thing. Yes, I don't remember much of what was said in those intimate hours that led to feelings of complete humiliation and regrets towering against an otherwise cleancut blue early summer sky.
I remember that he had a brother and he likes, ironically, outdoor adventures just as much as I did and while I was daydreaming of us making wild sweet love in wild sweet meadows or in the back of his amiable VW bus he told me about how he made at least seven women scream and cum and explode their brains and it wasn't until later that I understood that it was scarred hearts that remained. And only now I realize the red lights that should have been flashing when he boasted with something that was absent in our time.

Another night I let him come and cum again, he left within seconds afterwards mumbeling some dumb words not giving silence one chance to breath.
It was a nice light setting then too but my friends room and I don't know whether I even made it to the shower to wash off the humiliating feeling dripping off my fingers like a sticky disgusting summer sweat.

The lessons learned were hard to digest. Thinking back never gave me any pleasures except for maybe the first night behind the bar in the vastness of the rusty sculpture park. There were stars at last and mind blowing virginity of the moment.

Everything else is and should remain a faint and slurry blur. My only words that I draw from those moments of silence that he couldn't see are the following:

Affairs only really make sense when you are sexually experienced. When you know what makes you cum. When you have had the opportunity to fully trust someone.

and when the other person knows about the perfectness and uniqueness and the value of a now.

carpe diem
carpe noche

trust

the trust it was broken and you damaged it
it was you
there is no second guessing
and you
who i love

so there was my eagerness to forgive
but i didn't know that forgiving is not forgetting
and it is not a decision
but a long journey
on the back of a broken sad heart.

there was trust shattered
again and again
and
how can you demand me
to trust you

when i feel the scar of that injured trust
rub up against my heart
all this time

.

trust, just as forgiving
a journey
not a decision

fear

it is in fear that we lie.
what an uncomfortable and terrible way of being laid.
it is a bigger fear that unties a knot of lie

it is unconditional love only that resolves the fear beneath.

i am not mad at you.
i feel pity
i might be sad.
i might want to cry into the evening sky.
but
i am not mad

my own imperfections tower above me like a shadow straight out of a nightmare.
you bare with me
i bare with you

maybe that's another thing
about
what they call


love

mater dola rosa

white black red
there they go
in a dance that was never meant to end


feeling like a virgin again
teddybear clutched to sleep
don't know what was
don't know what was

is this a mare from a distant star
is this a dream dreamt by a blossoming

maybe i am
there

quiet quiet calm no storm
there is someone

names dropped, fell on the floor
a stranger will come later through my door
alone but not alone
sharing but not
a delicate balance that could fail or fly

melodies weaving in
the warm sleepy coat
blankets innocent like years before
and no names were known

as violins rise
and violence subsides
and bleeding flowers cry

if i was
if i was
if i am
i will rise again
kissing the morning sun
pale like my breath
trying to grasp a spiteful of delusions

don't know what was
don't know what was

a lover
a star
a moon
a frozen lake
to dance on

blossoming

you love me with such an unexpected tenderness, passion subliminal, that my dreams get swept away in a sweet and swift rush of warmth,tickling my cells, breaking open rusty doors with the ease of a magician.

inside, there is the unspeakable. the fragile that can tear a whole world of destruction and disappointment and disillusion apart. that,which is more than a dream. maybe only poets could grasp these words, these fragile birds, who have been abused and misused for too many times.

outside there are the hungry wolves and vultures lingering and waiting for the words to break into pieces. beauty, veiled in, to leave the living sacred, to protect the heart beyond the palpable matters.

ah, if you only knew what beauty you create, you, you, who kills mockingbirds with words painting the picture of a broken demon, a loser, a pathetic fuck.
ah, if you only knew what beauty you create, you, you, -every moment you touch me with your warmth, your black eyes, your breath so sweet
like a blossoming

beneath the dream

beneath the dream there is a realm of possibilities.

a rain of possibilities

come back

Beneath the surface of the dream there is hell. Dark, rotten, screaming,

DARK ROTTEN SCREAMING