Earth, where Hell becomes flesh Where blood is sane Death our breath Where glass is murder Corpes, daily bread Earth; a hell as paradise Where Evil becomes angels The sun means darkness The trees are bare The deserts black Dreams will not come true Illusions are mirrors Our favorite spot With false masters And pointless views
Soft and white Deep, big eyes Hidden worlds What never saw the light again Little teeth So fluffy Cuddle Strong to withstand the cold Little miracle A creation Of land and sea The key The seal To everything To survive Died in red, in blood On a white plate of snow The endless fall of humanity
In memory of the thousands slaughtered seals during the brutal and cruel seal hunts in Canada 2019
"In recent years, hundreds of thousands of seals have been killed annually in the commercial seal hunt. More than one million seals have been slaughtered in the past five years alone. These kill levels are among the highest witnessed in Canada in half a century. The last time seals were killed at this rate—in the 1950s and '60s—the harp seal population was reduced by as much as two-thirds." Source, The Humane Society of the United States
Is it not tiresome To lose all leaves and build up again At blossom night Is it not tiring to lose some sleep To get up again To read a book What's not finished To turn the light on What's not there A nail without a hammer A saw robbed of wood A lock on a coffin To see waves in a river Fruits in a plant Sand as earth Oil as water Salt as dust The Devil in blue Sugar as poison And sleep as a candy store
I'll see you in Autumn When the days are short and the nights long Filled with words To pick them out of the cold evening air The air so thick, clouds packed with thoughts The memories of Poe and Frost, so close by Where are you, my Sylvia, Emmy and my gliding Lizzy The smell of fallen leaves Creating mountains to ascend Taking the darkness in The trees become brains To cerebrate, to ponder As mates Now the air is thin, Spring arrived Eyes everywhere No more safely hiding Or a walk in the dark The white, clean blossom, the green overwhelming The light burning, day after day Morning after morning Night after night Dreams lost, the field gone, No more shadows to capture Waiting for the dark months of pumkins Hazelnuts, smelling woods and sniffing dogs Colourful mushrooms, dancing dwarfs and elves The morning melancholy mists Thinking of her Autumn is for writers The black nights feeding them, pleasing them With their touch and mysterious breath Now there is only Blue We put away our pens, till the next Autumn When we'll meet again and dance in otherly worlds Till the next winter Longing for the first sunshine Her brushes warm and tender Outbursts of blooming Dreaming of fields full of harvest Are we here just to dream And not to live it, when it's there I'll see you in Autumn..
Watching me Their eyes on my skin My eyes meeting them, to drown Pushing me inside Far away In a deep corner Provoking emotions In pain Losing hope No place alone Wherever I go Hiding my face Watching me Their laughs sounding through As knifes, day after day Saturday after Monday What comes first.. Ask Alice or maybe the rabbit Who looses time Checking his watch Their words A hell of darkness Skinning me, eating my flesh With their looks, till we are Only bones Moving like stiff puppets Searching for light Reaching for my pen Where a word creates a path To sooth, to cradle my soul To give more room In my cramped heart For salvation
Two coins for the ferry Tinkling in my hand To take me across, the other side I look into his weathered face Storm, rain, to endure The ferryman A death wrap in black veil Will he take me to the waters profound enough To carry my soul, to deep dungeons His mouldy clothes, smelling like graves With rotten flesh His dark eyes waiting for an answer Restless souls crossing over Is there a presence in there Or will he dissapear At the middle of the river When I doubt and want to go back The fog in my mouth, hard to breathe Thick and white The water black as an evening night Looking for my reflection My desperate face, pale and frightened Am I already gone Looking for my mirror in my pocket No, says the ferryman, not at the water The souls will slip in You will see your future And there is no turning back..