Tag Archives: time

A metric analysis of impossible rhymes…

Flaming sword Eugène_Ferdinand_Victor_Delacroix

Life’s like a lobotomised impression
inside a golden skull;
too cheap to bury,
too expensive to keep.
A Stradivari of motionless complexities,
all sailing south, monstrosities,
as forbidden banners of condemned rebellions…
Tied to the mast of someone else’s travels,
on sleepless waves of no more dreams to catch,
blinded lighthouses
towering over shipwrecked carcasses
still flickering inside
the cheapest postcard of a better world,
conscripts of chemical genocides
fought over ivory ashes
of forbidden rattles
echoing impractical Edens.

The flaming sword is still there,
a metric analysis,
of impossible times…

Amazing traces…

Please watch before reading, and listen while you read:

The Idan Raichel Project – Hakol Over (Everything passes)

Idan Raichel clip 2

I need you to dream the colour of spaces,
the time between midnight, tomorrow and trees,
I beg you to fathom amazing traces,
layers of clouds returning to seas…

I dare you to picture small shells of forgiveness,
buried within improbable fields,
requiems sold to merchants of stillness,
swordless battles of useless shields…

I want us to marry in a destitute chapel,
by ministers chanting untimely hymns,
with broken pieces of soft marble,
exchanging a lifetime of broken dreams…

One day…

image

One day,
When far away
Shall draw so near
As to resemble oneness,
When all the fallen leaves
Shall turn as pages
Of another realm,
When time alone
Shall stand as stone cold witness
Of another age,
Remembrance shall return
To those same ashes,
From where the last great god
Was born…
He shall return,
Again, anew,
Poor Phoenix burning away its last
flame’s swan song…

Photo detail: Wikimedia Commons

“Not dark… yet… ” – Schizophrenica Magna


I would remember
any time available for thought.

I could avenge all memories
chewable,
or less…

I should attain
for nothing more
than senses…

I?
Me!
Why?

Why’s no one else
available for thinking?

Why so alone
am starving here
for waitings, I…?

Bye…

Just me and I…

Silence of the lamps…

…on existentialism

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Of scars and bars I am remembered,
Long time ago when sheep we were, and lambs;
When every “tender” felt like thundered,
Within the silence of the lamps…

Some other moments I may wish to follow,
But there’s no “other”, there’s no “that”;
Just crumbs of an existence, shallow,
Like the perspectives of a rat…

memento mori…

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As time goes by,
“and”
slowly becomes
eternity’s pathetic
substitute…

Skin crumbs…

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A new year?
Crumbs of an old, wept over…
lumped into unslept dreams…

As time goes by,
skin turns slowly
into another shade
of your younger soul…