in the small clearing
frozen ballerina
ice crystal floor
tip toe dance
to the circle of life
Try to follow Mother Natures rhythm, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
Ballerina
Archive for ‘Poetry’
As time goes by
It has come to this, I fear
The passing, of another year
Reminiscing all, that's done
thirty one million five hundred fifty six thousand nine hundred twenty six seconds, all gone
Circle closes then takes another turn, my dear
Don’t wait, it may be too late, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
I’ve been struggling with the last line and I’m not really satisfied. I like to invite you to come up with another last line. Thank you in advance.
Beholder
The beholder
looking the same way
contemplating
eyewitness
seeing in different ways
processing
What we see is not what we get
if we get what we see
we see what we feel,
– – is right – –
Don’t be left, try to look the right way. Ha de Gött!
Advertisements
Faith and Hope
Faith and hope since the first dawn of Homo Sapiens, the thinking man the need has been around to explain the why, to make heads or tails why are we here bring comfort in the unavoidable end a sense of making sense of things out of sense Faith and hope since the dawn of civilisation, the social human the urge has been strong to compete and win, to conqour and divide how much can I pile a legacy to, cheat the definite end a sense of making sense of things out of sense Faith and hope since the dawn of religions, the summing human the misuse and abuse been the rule to control the tribe, the masses to fearlessly run towards the bitter end reduced to useful idiots in the hands of senseless prophets without any sense Faith and hope Hijacked to the dark side
Keep faith and hope but watch out for the false prophets, ha de Gött!
Inspired by John Malones poem Hope.
Advertisements
Advent
It starts already in September
sneaks up on you
when you least expect
you freeze, a shiver down your spine
but there, in the windings of the brain
the deceiving jingling pops up
welcome as zits in a teenage mirror
You try to fight it off, but then
but then in the shop
the frantic wailing from Mariah
all I want for Christmas is youOUOUOUOUOUOUOUOU
it sticks in your poor brain
like chewing gum under your shoe
You flee out the door while trying to keep your lunch
trying to calm down with a nice coffee
only to be punched in the face by
the ultimate torture
last Christmas I gave you my heart
a Wham in your gut
then you know, you have to succumb
to three months of terror
stumbling off, hollow eyes and pale
whistling jingle bells, jingle bells
Let the celebration begin, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
Fly off
On warm up-winds looking down on all kinds up high soaring will it ever be boring in the heaven blue this a freedom true would not be a big deal without this vertigo feel
It’s not the flying that’s difficult, it’s the landing. Ha de Gött!
Advertisements
Boxed in
The world is full of boxed in people constipated in their four wheel containers in endless bumper to bumper lanes rubbing shoulders with underground strangers rich and fame like an Instagram post cardboard poor as a news flash in the gutter hollow eyes rushing to lock themselves in afraid to be a wrapped give away by a white bearded man on boxing day
Keep your box open and let life in, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
Hymn
Land of Feel-Sorry-for-Yourself
a place to put you down
beat your ego up
Low Self Esteem for president
besieged by, enemy of you
never ending civil war
army fight call “no use”
stay down for every count
dare not to seek, citizenship
It all starts with the man in the mirror, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
The obliviousness book
Book full of forgotten things un-remembered issue release daily thick as the book of what-if's pocket size in constant use some miss-use now and then wear it on my shoulders every chapter, dare a read a highly dangerous deed largest book in the library that is my brain the book of oblivion
My memory is good but short, ha de Gött!
Advertisements
The Library
some in frequent use pages darkened by hungry fingers 'who done it' tickling the darkest inside us some covered by dust only yellow by age 'who wants to know' fuelling the creative light during long dark nights dark prose in the poetry corner and whiskey stinking PI's comparing their scars silent with millions of words organised in rows and shelfs collective minds peaks and abysses of humanity
Growing up in a broken home in the suburbs, the library was always a safe haven. Still today I get calm entering a library or a book store.
Take care of the libraries, Ha de Gött!
Advertisements
