Hormones changing the structure of my hair
My hair falling differently on my face again
To round around my head and not straight at all
Points to a change in the overall atmosphere surrounding me
I’m back in my teenage years again
I have to learn again to temper my hair
I have to learn more to trust myself and not be fooled by people
Who try to make me see myself through their eyes
The eyes of ignorance and prejudgment
Who try to make use of me like of a tool
Which can be disposed of
She is cursed to living all by herself, and although not always physically alone, the others are missing at the exact moments she utterly needs them. So she watches tv, trash tv, to get the human interaction form there. There are always the others that things happen to.
Sun brings people. People bring themselves to the woods. She took the phone call out. She broke up in the woods. Yelling at each other over the phone. She doesn’t want to be on his terms anymore.
Omg, by the time I was back from my tour, the brake up women was still there. Not in the woods anymore, but there, in the park. She has a white cap with fur at the tip and a plastic bag. Blonde and not exactly thin. By now it was only the voice of a male voice-mail coming out of the phone.
Guy standing in the bus, man, retired. Talking to women guest, also in her 60s or 50s, very sure of himself. Women impressed. Guy sits down on the place the women has left empty. He starts shaking, unable to control his body.
The first days we don’t even remember. They were too far away. We started dancing in the rain and our lives were over. But we lived again. And again. And again. Through you and I. We lived and died. And did not remembered when we lived or when we died. The first days were too far away. It could be yesterday, that we died again. It doesn’t matter. The first days are important. But we forgot them. We let ourselves fooled by the rain drops and forgot about them. And the rain drops turned into rivers and took us away, far away from where we started. That far away that we forgotten the road back. We stopped dancing in the rain and wanted to go home, but the darkness showed nowhere. And then we died waiting, but nobody came. Nobody came and nobody left. We were all together and all the same. And all lived and died and nobody went and nobody came. And the rain drops stopped raining, and it was moisture all over. And it did not dry. And it would no dry. It will remain and make our skins smell, like moisture, from the rain drops, into which we danced once...
Ode to prejudgments
Prejudgments save. Because they rely on collective experience, gathered among time. Because, even more, they rely on collective fears, which have become reality
with time. Prejudgments save because they are a defense system, a social immunity system. Prejudgments save because they are not true; they are real. Being real,
their reality guarantees their unconditioned and unanimous acceptance.
Prejudgments save because they don’t instigate to anything. Because they mean to ignore.
Prejudgments save because they move away: the person who has them from the one towards which they are directed to. Pointing finger, makes it disappear.
Prejudgments set apart, they choose, they close the circle. Prejudgments save because they close it and don’t let anything in. Because they are cleaning up.
Because they put everything in its rightful place. Prejudgments file away.
Prejudgments save because they are the most efficient white weapon. Because they do not kill. Not physically.
Prejudgments save because they do not condemn: the person who has them. They do not condemn, but consternate.
Prejudgments save, always!
Ode to the ones that see the future without you
Ode to the ones that live the future without you
Ode to you - for staying and listening
For seeing. For not moving on.
For staying and listening.
For stay and listen!
And let life go on without you
and see and listen the life that goes on without you
See and listen!
No rest
No rest, for rest means no future
Future means doing something
Even if running in circles
Or hitting your wall times and times again
But I want no future
And the present I’m not missing either
Go away
Remove yourself from me
Let me sleep.
Each evening is raining, with thunderstorms. Sometimes it rains far into the night, that I can only hear the thunder through my sleeplessness. And I cannot get up, because I am too tired. Because I cannot fall asleep.
Every night is raining, and all I wanted was for the day to pass, so the night could come, so I could sleep.
I cannot fall asleep, and it is all I ever wanted. But to sleep with no dreams! Just to be rested and calm, like dead.
I can’t listen to music, can’t call nobody. It’s just me with myself. And I cannot get away. I cannot let go of myself, cause that would be getting away. So I write to myself, hoping someday another self will read it.
Time stopped. It’s just raining ...
...
... and all I want is to fall asleep!!!
Creatures of the night –animals of the night
Walking graciously, like gazelles, with barely nothing on
They walk alone
The streets of this city
In search of him – the illusion who will get them out of their agony
Their agony being that he is not there yet.
Not him but HIM, the one, the big shot
The one they walk the streets alone for.
They walk the streets alone, but together.
Together, but not united. Together against each other
They walk and dance and move and talk and photograph
Their time is running out
They think to live means to live like that
But what they believe means to live means to die
To die of one’s own
Body just body
How I feel
Beauty in itself is not involved
In its patriarchal meaning of it
He wouldn’t look me in the eyes
Eyes on screen, eyes on screens, screams my name
Excitement and thrill while one doesn’t know what the night can bring
But sorrow and thoughts, for we have done this numerous times before.
The street, the wood, the street, the street.
The house with kitchen lit in green.
She run by it. Again. She did.
This time the background room was lit.
A man and women in the kitchen lit in green inside
the house at the edge of the winery,
where the view of the city begins.
She saw this times again, and again.
The circular runs always have the kitchen green.
But this time the room in the background was lit.
The kitchen was empty with nothing to see,
and only the room in the background was lit. in red